In these terror-rattled times, few of us truly prove equal to the task of eternal vigilance from all threats to our security, foreign, domestic, and potentially exaggerated. Yet such vigilance against terror in all its many guises must always be our goal. That is why I am writing this message to warn you against an attack from a most unexpected quarter: Don Henley. Today, while getting my lunch prepared, I turned the laptop on and heard Don Henley whine, “my love for you will still be strong / after the boys of summer have gone.” Needless to say, I interpreted his words as a threat. My theory was validated when Henley, in the very same song, admitted to hearing voices in his head, voices triggered by his spotting a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac. Many people have understood the message of those voices—“don’t look back / you can never look back”—as a rueful condemnation of those who have abandoned the values of the 1960s. This theory is idiotic. Why? Because it’s Don Henley singing. Ask yourself: Does that message make any sense spilling from the lips of Don Henley? The theory is a smokescreen and those who propagate it are either fools or disingenuous, objectively pro-Henley ministers of disinformation.
I see two options. Best case scenario, the man is a paranoid schizophrenic. Worst case, he is a deep cover terrorist sleeper agent—for Al-Qaeda, the Michigan Militia, the Klan, I don’t know—whose conditioning is activated by certain triggers, such as deadhead stickers. Clearly, “don’t look back / you can never look back” is an ego-cleansing mantra meant to salve the conscience of someone who has just committed unspeakably vile and despicable acts, acts which would fracture the psyche of any person were he allowed to remember them.
My intent here is not to stoke the embers of fear already glowing so brightly in your breasts, but, rather, to prepare you in case you find yourself—or, God forbid, your family—at the mercy of killing machine Don Henley, who may be acting at his paymasters’ behest or who may have gone rogue. How can you prevent Don Henley from proving that his “love [read: homicidal rage] for you will still be strong”? Simple: by ensuring that the boys of summer never leave. Ever.
Extreme measures? Perhaps. But we live in extreme times. And honestly, will anyone truly miss most of the boys of summer back in their hometowns? Many of them are layabouts and slackers who contribute nothing to society beyond, I must admit, a certain lithe, sun-kissed aesthetic appeal. I would argue that any one—nay, any dozen—is a small price to pay for my family’s security. No idler, I have put my faith into action. It’s true that I got some suspicious looks at Sam’s Club when I asked if they sold chloroform in bulk quantities, but I might never have found it otherwise. And in any case, their discount CD bins lead me to believe that Don Henley partisans have already infiltrated even such a bastion of freedom as Sam’s. While our home has no floorboards to speak of, and so storing the boys of summer presented something of a challenge, I found that our attic, after some re-organization, proved more than sufficient. True, the attic is not insulated and gets quite toasty in the hot August sun, but all to the better, I say: the stench of putrefying boys of summer carcass that has already begun to permeate our house will ensure that Don Henley always keeps a safe distance. Indeed, I’ve noticed that a few of our neighbors have begun to remark upon the odor. No doubt they’re wholly ignorant of the identity of their mysterious benefactor. I’m not in this for glory or fame.
I grant that in my zeal, I may have hoarded too many specimens of the boys of summer, or, as I’ve taken to calling them, “henleybane.” I’m not stingy, though. If you’ll contact me, I’d be glad to make a boys of summer mojo of any size for you. Most of them wore chains or necklaces of some sort, so I’ve crafted a set of fetching neckwear for the whole family. I don’t need to tell you that Don Henley hasn’t been sighted anywhere near my family in weeks. A word of caution to you bleeding hearts who might feel tempted to shelter or hide Don Henley: I urge you to remember, if you’re not for murdering teenage boys and storing them in your attic, then you’re with Don Henley.
In addition: Yes, I posted this on my blog. I'd also like to point out that this thread serves a purpose. Lastly, bread-bin.
That is all. With vigilance, Gav.
But......but.........but..............but................I LIKE his music.....
Also, I only read the first four sentences and Ryette is super hawt.
S.T.A.L.K.E.R.;4243638 Also, I only read the first four sentences and Ryette is super hawt.
*yawn* I do hope your alarm clock doesn't interrupt your dream too early.
There are no alarm clocks in fantasy land..... :D
Mr.Gav;4243640*yawn* I do hope your alarm clock doesn't interrupt your dream too early.
I think I smell something burning.
S.T.A.L.K.E.R.;4243638But......but.........but..............but................I LIKE his music..... [/quote] You'll think twice about that when you've read' my 'article'.
[quote=S.T.A.L.K.E.R.;4243642]There are no alarm clocks in fantasy land.....
The route to fantasy land is through sleep valley. Or do you randomly visit fantasy land while you're wide awake, or driving the car, or shopping for cauliflower in your local 'mart?
Mr.Gav;4243650The route to fantasy land is through sleep valley. Or do you randomly visit fantasy land while you're wide awake, or driving the car, or shopping for cauliflower in your local 'mart?
HA! I run rings around your logic!!! I don't eat cauliflower!!!
I think I smell something burning.[/quote] Yes. Before I departed from the thread, I set alight to S.T.A.L.K.E.R.'s ego.
[quote=S.T.A.L.K.E.R.;4243654]HA! I run rings around your logic!!! I don't eat cauliflower!!!
I on the other hand, sir, do eat cauliflower. See, I blame Don Henley for allowing my logic to backfire on me.
My ego is fireproof..............and stuff
Big words for someone who's signature appears to be in flames.