Humor – Page 72 – I Don't Get It

Whenever I Call Kenny Loggins “Awesome”

I wanted to perk up this evening, so I put on a happy song, “Whenever I Call You ‘Friend,'” by Kenny Loggins and Stevie Nicks. Yes, I enjoy soft rock. Yes, it’s a strange title. It doesn’t make sense, but neither do the 70s.

Who is this beautiful model in a peacoat, so downtrodden? Such a pretty thing.

This was Kenny post-Loggins and Messina. Yes, you have heard of them. They sing that song, “Danny’s Song,” which never says Danny at all, but you’ve heard it.

Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you, honey.

See, you remember.

Anyway, this was before Kenny wrote the soundtrack to every blockbuster movie in the 80s. Yes, all of them. Can we say royalty checks?

Whenever I hear this song, I wish I was at a packed karaoke bar, wearing a gypsy poncho like a crazed Gold Dust Woman swirling about, doing my best Stevie Nicks impression with someone possessing awesome Loggins hair.

Oh. My. Goodness. Talk about a penetrating gaze. It’s like a beady-eyed baby bird with gloriously feathered (more bird references?) tresses. Gee, I bet his hair smells terrific.

And look at THIS. Look at it. It was his Cindy Crawford supermodel phase.

I am entranced by those luscious curls.

And what about this? Some backpack-wearing Jehovah’s Witnesses left a pamphlet in a door with some serious questions.

I think he got confused. A beard-crazy WordPresser posted this awesome pic of Kenny with Messina. He was “ugly Christmas sweater” when ugly Christmas sweater wasn’t cool.

But he had to get old because we all get old. Here he is singing “What A Fool Believes” with Michael McDonald.

Son of a gun. I always thought the lyric was “The wise man has the power.” It’s not. It’s “no wise man has the power.” That changes everything. I need some time for reflection. Don’t worry. I’m alright. Don’t nobody worry about me.

Your Penmanship Is Atrocious

Serious About Slip ‘N’ Slide

How Not To Lasso A Filly

More proof that the 1970s were so so so odd.

Is it wrong that what I find most disturbing in this yearbook picture is her lack of a belt? It would really pull the look together, and break up two pale colors. Even just a simple brown weave belt could have changed everything.

In any event, I think the punishment is too harsh. And talk about a chafing rope burn…What is wrong with these people?

If Crispin Glover Were A Hungry, Angry Shemale

Welcome to Vogue Sep 2013, 902 pages of over-the-top, aesthetically displeasing ads that I DO NOT GET. I still regret paying $1 for it. All I wanted was some perfume samples.

Look, I liked Vogue as a youth. I enjoyed models and high fashion and keeping up with the trends, perusing through the modern and artsy pages. Perhaps they were even inspiring at one point. But now? Now I cannot get past these ads. Vile.

Spare me any comments about how high-concept or fashion-forward Vogue is; you’ll only sound pretentious or as tired as Madonna’s antiquated song. Ads don’t happen by accident; I’m 100% certain this contrived androgynous look was exactly what they were going for.

All I know is, somebody, please FEED HER. (Not Jennifer Lawrence, but the topless one). And make sure she keeps it down, if you know what I mean. And while you’re at it, throw a shirt on her and trot her to the closest neurologist to see if those dopamine receptors are down, because this one’s smile is broken.

Ralph Rucci, this makes me feel uncomfortable, and discomfort does not buy your product. In fact, it makes me want to ralph into a toilet bowl (where you should put your flowy too-long skirt, fur muff, belt, gloves and bad eye shadow). And take that hairdon’t back to Moe from the Three Stooges. But props to you for getting celebs to buy your clothes! Rich folk love them some runways. Cha-ching!