Flush It Friday: Bring Me The Funk! But Not Too Fast
This week, Flush It Friday is brought to you by a wealthy socialite by the name of Paris Hilton.
The Bad: My local government has decided it’d be a splendid idea to set up camera traps for speeding in my area. By area, I mean fucking everywhere! On paper, this sounds like a novel idea to deter speeders. However, the only fruitful end these camera meet are gauging drivers and pissing me off. Anywhere I go takes much longer than it did before, and I have to deal with coffin-dodgers driving 20 clicks under the limits to play it safe. It’s just a fucking cash grab for the local government to snag some bullshit money from drivers. Even if a person drives a little over the drive the limit, they get issued either a warning or a speeding ticket. As if people aren’t already getting buttfucked by Big Brother via parking tickets, parking fees, and ludicrous public transport prices.
If governments want to make a few dollars back from the people, stick to legal gambling and sin taxes. If I want to drive over the speed limit, I should be able to knowing the responsibilities of my actions. Speed, or lack thereof, doesn’t always correlate with safe driving practices. I could be texting some girl I met at Chili’s, taking pulls from my flask, and changing the radio station at the same time while I’m driving; yet as long as I’m following the speed limit, I can get away with this dangerous behaviour in front of the camera. Don’t try to tell me these cameras are about “safety”, because that’s bullshit. Fuck speeding cameras. The only places I think there should be speed traps are in school zones, because c’mon, don’t speed in school zones like a fucking animal. You’re better than that.
The Good: About a week back I was abducted by aliens. I know, I know. All of this talk about Big Brother and aliens are making me seem like some tin-foil hat-wearing-Bigfoot-researcher lookin’ motherfucker. Don’t be an asshole. Aliens are our friends. They simply want us to climb aboard The Mothership and get the funk into our lives!
“But, Paris!” You’ll say in your charming, sexy voice not dissimilar to the ancient legends of The Songs of The Mermaids. “How will I know if I have the funk? Do I need extraterrestial consultation to get the funk?” Relax. The Number One Rule of the funk is you got to chill the fuck out, man. It’s easy to tell if someone doesn’t have the funk. Know a dude who wears New Balance runners with denim? He doesn’t have the funk! Know that girl who is extremely passive at the office and can’t let shit go? She don’t have the funk! Know a shriveled, sun-dried hipster that rips e-cigs and scoffs at your music tastes. HE DOESN’T HAVE THE FUNK!
When I awoke in my bed after my alien encounter, I felt different. I realized that I have now become one with the funk. My tastes in metal and in music would never be the same. Forget Uptown Funk, although it’s an excellent track, here’s a bit of what I’ve jamming ever since the aliens let me take a swig out of their Eternal Bottle of Funk, Love, Space, and Time. The funk does not belong to me, it is meant to share.
The Ugly: I’ve been having to listen to a lot, and I mean A LOT, of Nickelback on the radio lately. They’re on tour so all of radio stations are subjecting me to put up with this horseshit. And I think that’s, er, bullshit!
“Well, you’re sort of over-reacting here, Paris.” You might say in a smug, pretentious tone. Or in a pirate accent, in the case that you’re a pirate. “You could just change the station. Problem solved!” First of all- fuck you. I’m not overreacting. YOU’RE FUCKING OVERREACTING! Any other band I could easily do that with, but my choice of stations are pop-country (lol), Top 40 (fuck yes), Mixed (mixed emotions), or radio rawk (lol). The problem is, that greasy thumb-lookin’ motherfucker Chad Kroegar writes music that fits into all of these demographics. It doesn’t matter what station I listen to, I’m fucked like a soup-sandwich.
Although, the lyrics of Nickelback songs never fail to amaze me. They can go from how a boyfriend is jealous so he beats up dudes who hit on his stripper girlfriend to how a dude is all alone in this world and just KNOWS there’s the perfect love of his life waiting for him! It baffles me. Anyway, I put up with this assult on all senses in hopes of hearing I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen. Just because I’m a pleb doesn’t mean I have a shit taste in music. Well-I kinda do- but that’s besides the point!
This Friday I will be spending time at work listening to Nickelback. As played out as Nickelback-hating is, I needed to rant about it. On the bright side- here’s some jams I’ve been listening to at work when I can break from the shackles of corporate radio that may liven your Friday up! So dip your toes in this Open Swim, shoot the shit, have just a swell Friday!
