Sean Beaudoin

Enough excellent writing to fill a large tube sock

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Super Bowl Halftime Show

I was feeling like a very old man as I watched in the depths of a "you call this music?" despair. And then Saul Hudson (I've taken Slash off the table, in the same fashion that Kenny G can only be referred to as Kenneth Gorelick) rose from below the stage like a formaldehyde-scented candle, burning away his last waxy glob of street cred. It was the same feeling I had watching Robo Cop for the first time--was it a rude satire of the future, or an eerily lucid vision of what's already here?

Comments

Thanks for bringing this up. It was spectacular, wasn’t it? At least Monsieur Hudson didn’t start dancing, too. And people want this, they pay for it. Tremendous!

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"Trail was no longer an accurate term. It was now just the slightest cleft between vegetation, like a rotting green thong pulled tight between the ass cheeks of being lost."

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