Hogs
Rolling Thunder takes self-righteousness to new ironies
Speaking of Memorial Day 2006, while the denizens of New Brunswick, New Jersey, endured the bad rhymes of so-called Christian rock, we in the nation's capital were rocked all weekend long by the unmuffled din of Harley Davidsons roaring through our streets with no regard for the fact that some of us actually live here and would have liked to hear our jazz and conversation during our family picnics.
Your blogstress fails to appreciate the sound of a Harley; take the muffler off a Japanese bike, and it wouldn't sound all that different. In fact, your cybertrix once had a Pinto with a bad exhaust system from which issued a reasonable approximation of the Harley soundscape.
While your Webwench may be annoyed by the annual Rolling Thunder rudenessfest in Our Nation's Capital (not to mention the sight of that many fat, furry white people convening here all at once), she cannot hope to match the dudgeon in which her friend Frank Gilligan (your blogstress's partner in musical crimes) found himself, especially in his consideration of the presidential election just past:
You goddam dirtbags went along with the long [swift] boat crap because it was redneck chic to do so. You got that goddam moron re-not-elected, and now you have the nerve to complain about Straight-Line Pure Republican policy as it relates to you and your livelihood?
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