If you had invoked me before you began this journey,

There’s an article on the BBC today about how two words were blanked out of the Rolling Stones half-time show on Sunday. The first was in Start Me Up: “You can make a dead man cum” and another when Rough Justice hit “Now I’m just one of your cocks.”

“TV censors deemed two lyrics too sexually explicit to be broadcast and they were cut from the three-song show.”

Sexually explicit? I could understand that if they did something like Starfucker, but they’re moaning over the words “cum” and “cocks”? Yes, I understand the logic is probably along the lines of the half-time show and American Football are “wholesome family entertainment” and we wouldn’t want the little ones to be scarred by (mild) sexual references.

But if you look at the lyrics of so many “pop” songs today, they’re far more explicit. Yes, I’m making a broad generalization here, but look at rap. Songs to have made it to the top 40 list in recent years include 50 Cents’ Candy Shop. This is the first one that springs to mind simply because if you look at the lyrics and watch the video, dear god is it more blatantly explicit. And yet, it was on the radio constantly. Granted, they didn’t ask the 50 Cent to play the half-time show at the Superbowl, but I’m sure this song is much more familiar to the younger members of my generation then say The Stones’ Sister Morphine. Even then though, Sister Morphine doesn't’ bug me, with the blatant drug references. Under the cut are excepts from the lyrics of both songs.

Candy Shop
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Sister Morphine
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I’m disgusted in a way that I’m not after hearing “You can make a dead man cum.” Seriously, I want to take a shower. And I wouldn’t consider myself a prude when it comes to musical lyrics. Shall we talk about Leonard Cohen’s Chelsea Hotel No. 2? “I remember you well in the chelsea hotel,/You were talking so brave and so sweet,/Giving me head on the unmade bed,/While the limousines wait in the street.” But Cohen’s lyrics, in my opinion, give his women a humanity that rap seems to lack. I can’t help but think that he really loves women - and not just in a sexual way. He’s a wonderful lyricist (even if you consider his music, as someone once called it “music to commit suicide to”), and even something like the opening line of Chelsea Hotel No. 2 doesn't seem to be dirty, but instead is something beautiful. If you’ve never heard the song, I’ve got a yousendit link at the bottom. Download it.

To get back to the Stones, they weren’t half-bad. Granted, the sound was sort of crummy (and dad said they’re a great live band, he’s seen them a few times), and the set was short (it was a football half-time show), but I liked them. Certainly better then the debacle of two years ago - Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake. I didn’t see what I heard was a snorer last year, Paul McCartney. I don’t think I saw U2 when they played a few years back.

To be honest, I’d rather the younglings heard The Stones’ lyrics then 50 Cent’s. At the least, there’s a tune behind them and Mick, while not the best singer, is still pretty damned good. (And certainly knows how to work a crowd.) They’re, among other things, classic rock and roll. I'm not saying that they're the pinnacle of family-friendly lyrics, but The Rolling Stones have still done a good number of very good/great songs - Satisfaction, Wild Horses, Tumbling Dice, Dead Flowers, Jumping Jack Flash, and more.

Not to mention, The Stones have been on the circuit continually for about 40 years. In 10, I’d be surprised if anyone remembered/knew who 50 Cent was.

Chelsea Hotel No. 2 - Leonard Cohen

This time tomorrow (Newport, not Tucson time) I shall be in Arizona. It will about 5 pm, and I shall be happy.


Flight leaves at nine tomorrow morning, leave the house at six. Thankfully, Southwest allows three pieces of checked luggae instead of the two I thought it did. Therefore, I can apprehend a duffel and I'll be all set. We have a single stop-over in Kansas City. *insert pathetic woot here*


Also, in an attempt to make my legs seem less corpse-like, I have resorted to Neutrogena "Endless Summer." As a result, I am sitting in the bathroom until it sinks in and I can put on pants or something.


Finally, my hair has been cut. It looks almost exactly the same, but much neater. Mom's got a new digital, and took some pictures the other night at my grandmother's. More pictures of me in the course of five minutes then in the last five years. I'll stick them on my computer and upload one or two when I get a chance.

So, next update will be from Tucson. *insert very happy woot here!*