This hot track is off the Iron Eagle II soundtrack, which is about eighteen times better than the Iron Eagle I soundtrack. What’s that? You disagree? Well, there’s a little chant that is used in North America for occasions like this…Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!

I find the legitimacy of this track highly dubious due to the fact that at the beginning of the song, one member of the group claims to be excited about having received a sweater for Christmas. Liar! No one under the age of 60 ever gets a thrill over a sweater being a gift. This is a fact.

The best slush flavor is suicide (where they mix a little of every flavor together), but it’s hard to get a good one today because mostly the only slush options places have is cherry and blue raspberry. A suicide needs a combination of at least six flavors to be considered a success. I’ve heard that some people refer to this flavor mixing method as a graveyard, swamp water or garbage. Those are alright, but they lack the dangerous edge of drinking a suicide.

Holes in pockets are destroying the economy and affecting the common man every day. We must declare a ban on holes in pockets, and if necessary, go to war with pockets themselves!

Oh yeah, now I remember why glam rock did so well. It was totally fun!

Talk about a hard road! These guys got so fucked over by their label, that their completed second record got pulled off the release list two weeks before it was supposed to drop. In a roundabout way, it was released in a Rykodisc compilation seven years later, but by then it was too late, even for True Believers.

You gotta respect someone with the balls to tell it how they see it. One time, I met the best friend of one of my friends, and within five minutes of us talking in private he told me, ‘shut the fuck up and never talk to me again.’ I thought it was a fluke, but sure enough the next time we met he again told me, ‘shut the fuck up and don’t talk to me.’ And I never did.

Hell yeah! Let’s take a trip. Where do you want to go? The Badlands with a quick stop at Wall Drug to laugh at all the compiled crap they have there? How about to Branson so we can try to drink some senior citizens under the table. Wait a minute, we fling around senior citizen like nobody’s biz, but why don’t we use senior illegal immigrant?

Though he’s not heard on this song, Vinegar Joe had a male vocalist named Robert Palmer as well. Wonder what became of that dude.

Looks like this song can only be found on a compilation record called The Big Apple: Rotten to the Core Vol 2. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of boss tracks on there.

These guys remind me of Adam & The Ants, who I wish were now giving classes to disaffected goth youths. In their class, Adam would show them that if you really want to stand out, dress like Elizabethan fops trying to disguise themselves as Native Americans from ‘60s cowboy movies. You’ll still get the shit kicked out of you, but you’ll look fantastic doing it.

One time I went to a Red Lobster that had its lobster tank in the waiting area. Every so often, a person would come and grab one to throw in the cooking pot. About the third time this happened, it slipped out of the grabbers hand and landed on the floor. Someone nearby shouted, “Look out!” And there was a near panic with everyone shuffling away from the lobster – which in addition to being on land, had rubber bands around its claws. Me and the lobster grabber were the only ones who laughed.

I love this song because it tackles an issue that happens all the time in society, but all other bands won’t touch. Seriously, if you’re not here to have fun, beat it!

These guys should re-release this song now and act like it’s an anti-war protest jingle. They’d make a mint. It’s not like they dated it by saying the Ayatollah is an Assahola or anything like that.

Funk is a music fad that needs to come back. Even a shitty funk record will have a couple jams you’ll like, and I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t like it. Everyone feels the need to hate on some genre of music, but no one would cop a distaste for a funky bassline backed up with some brass.

This record is one just one big heartbreak, with each song tearing you apart in a different way. A great listen, but don’t dare put it on the turntable if you’ve just broken up with someone. You’ll have hanged yourself before the end of side one.

Holy crapola is Dianne Davidson an amazing singer! Even crazier, she produced and recorded this album herself when she was 19. Listen to this song and try to even fathom how a 19-year-old can earnestly sing with such gut-wrenching emotion. I thought 19-year-olds only worried about what the best brand of hair gel was.

Believe it or not, this is actually the most accessible and sensible song on the entire album. You’d expect anything less from a band whose guitarist is dressed like a mime? (Not a joke, he really is.)