Unbeknownst to Them, the Libertarian Elite about Kills Me
America, as you may recall, the Libertarian Elite were patronizing the hell out of me for not knowing what Pad Thai was, among other things.
Well, the Progressives could not let the insult stand, so tonight we went out for Thai.
Elias ordered.
Later, his face appeared to be melting off. I couldn't be sure, though, because I was crying.
Three times the proprietors of the restaurant came to check on us.
"Very spicy," they said, snickering and pouring more water.
The soup we had was so hot that I thought it would kill me. And yet, so tasty that I kept eating it.
Now, I'm laying here wondering if I'll start to hallucinate, because the only other time I've ever felt this way--hot, unfocused, hyper-alert--was after dropping acid. Err, allegedly dropping acid. Many years ago. In the 70s, when I toured with Led Zeppelin...
Speaking of which, 2 out of 2 people who had an opinion about it at dinner totally agree that II is a much better album than Physical Graffiti.
posted by Aunt B at 9/21/2005 03:12:00 PM
7 Comments:
There goes the hapless 'Progressives' again. Ordering food that is too hot and trying to use water to soothe their scorched palates.
That is what the rice is for. The starch of the rice will bring the heat down on your taste buds mo' better than water.
Isn't that just like you conservatives? Assuming that every extreme experience must be unpleasant. Some folks don't mind a little discomfort if it's leading someplace interesting.
Hmm...that explains a lot more than just the Thai, doesn't it?
Isn't that just like you 'Progressos'?
Assuming that I'm assuming your experience was unpleasant.
My point is mocking your futile attempts to douse your burning taste buds and how that is symptomatic of the "Hey! Let's have a drum circle to end the war" mentality and how that is directly correlated to your culinary knowledge.
Physical Graffitti is better than II, so there.
Oh, I forgot! You're of the 'if it feels good, it must be a sin' end of the political spectrum. Thus the reason you feel compelled to tell me how to stop a perfectly amusing experience.
Really, this obviously explains how you can like an album without "Whole Lotta Love" better than one with it. A whole album full of unbridled awesomeness must be really hard on you. All that fun stuff and no way to stop it.
Or maybe it's just that you hear that album and know the truth--that Robert Plant (like Dean Martin and McKinley Morganfield) sings like he wants to fuck us girls and we want to let him.
Certainly, it's not that much fun to listen to some guy seducing every girl he can get to listen to him.
You leave for a week and you forget everything.
I'm of the "There is no sin" end of the political spectrum. We do things out of enlightened self-interest. Not because our imaginary friend or our bleeding heart tells us to.
Graffiti is better, because there is more Zep to enjoy. The triumverate of "Houses of the Holy", "Trampled Underfoot", and "Kashmir" blow "Whole Lotta Love" out of the water. Of course that is probably just the voice of maturity talking.
Next time you entertain a gentleman caller, put "Trampled Underfoot" on before you retire to the bedroom. I guarantee you will break the bed.
Well, unlike some people, I tend to appreciate the artistry of a well-constructed bed. Mine regularly supported 600 pounds of grandparents and annoying grand children before it was passed on to me and I assure you, the only way that puppy is coming apart--no matter how raucous the activity--is if Jimmy Page is channelling his old landlord and levitating the sidebars enough to let the end pieces slide up over the grooves they're hooked into on the head- and foot-board.
Still, I appreciate the advice.
Should a day come when I'm retiring to my room with a man old enough to have purchased Physical Graffiti in vinyl when it first came out (perhaps with horded milk money?), I'll be sure to put it on, and turn it up very loud. I hear that, after eyesight, one's hearing is usually the next to go and I like to be courteous to my gentlemen callers.
The scary part is, I think I own Zep II on vinyl. As with all things that matter, it's in a box somewhere.
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