Strong women and me

Now, now, don't get me wrong - I *may* have once upon a time liked those Bulgarian female athletes, but that was a passing phase. I much prefer getting beat up by lissom young things. Well, young things, at any rate. Ok, ok, just things. Fine, anything. Damn you (a la Stewie).

But as usual, I ramble. Do you know that song "You can call me Al?" I call him that, but he is Mr. Zheimer to you.

No, this post is to excoriate all the whiny female singers out there. Here I am, listening to some classic Chryssie (Hynde). What a voice, what songwriting. Blondie, as kitschy as she later may have become, had a voice to shiver me timbers. Laura Fygi's Besame Mucho (translation: "La cucaracha") still is one of the best numbers out there. Grave, regal Nina Simone - an example of how you emote. Dietrich wondering where have all the children gone. Janis Joplin. Even Gwen Stefani.

And what do you have these days? The destrruction started with Britney. I would give it to her one last time, from this end of a firearm. Mariah - what would Jesus say??!! Whitney, the unbearable being of light(headed)ness (getting ready for a fusillade on this one). I am not sure of Winehouse, scathing comments and beehive jokes welcome. I could go on, but have some kamikazes to be downed.

Singing today is all about squeaky tramps gyrating in perpetual mallfunctioning wardrobes. Think of our children. Is there a place for this in civilization?

Possibly, yes. In my apartment. On mute.