Frank’s Got the Funk have a song called Frank’s Got the Funk. You can tell it kicks ass because it’s got a skull in it. It’s five minutes long and starts with big butch drums. When Frank starts singing you feel your IQ go into a sudden, steep dive. Blind good fortune helped me level out near the lower single digits; I may not be as lucky the next time.
There aren’t enough lighters to wave in this world, nor sleeveless leather vests. I’ve sprained my fingers doing the devil’s horns and I can’t control the trickle from the corner of my mouth. The tattoo shop says my skinny arms won’t do for the heart-and-anchor I have in mind; my girlfriend’s just packed up and left, she says she can’t take this abuse any more, but who needs girlfriends when you’ve got the funk?
They don’t make them like this any more; it’s as if the eighties had never ended.