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Instigators ARISE!


Greyhawke
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I remember the music of the 'eighties. I decided that I must have some understanding of pop culture, so I devoted a full year to paying attention to it.

 

Then I went back to D&D.

 

The 'sixties were pretty awful, between the plague and London burning down. But I did like John Dowland's music.

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Oh, I rememer "Thriller," and that inescapable video. I also remember "Safety Dance," "Send Me An Angel," "99 Red Balloons," "Here Comes the Rain Again," "Holding Out for A Hero," "Don't Turn Around (The Kommissar's in Town)," "Strip," "Every Breath You Take," "Wrapped Around Your Finger," "Hungry Like the Wolf," "Cuts Like A Knife," "Radio Ga Ga," "(Keep Feeling) Fascination," "Big Country," "Burning Down the House," "She Blinded Me With Science," "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," "Blister In the Sun," "Jump," "All Night Long," "Monkey on Your Back," "King of Pain," "I'll Stop the World and Melt With You," "The Rose," "Love is a Battlefield, "Total Eclipse of the Heart," "(I Hear the Secrets That You Keep When You're) Talking in Your Sleep," "Nice Day for a White Wedding," "China Girl," "Her Name is Rio and She Dances in the Sand," "I Like Them Big and Stupid," and "(Everybody Run,) The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun."

 

I never had been into pop music before that one year, and I've never been into it after. It was just a weird idea that I got in my head for that one year that paying attention to it was a normal thing to do.

 

Despite being the child of hippies, I would not be able to identify "Stairway to Heaven" if you hit me over the head with it, and I have never, not once, heard "The Macarena." Most of my knowledge of music is eclectic, weird, and semi-random ... except for that one year of pop music.

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The 80s for me was being 4 when it became the 90s. Although I still kind of remember a massive earthquake in northern California when I was 3.

 

Was that the one that happened live during a baseball game? The one where the freeway collapsed?

 

I was watching that game on live TV with my dad.

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Pingo: you managed to hear all the good stuff.

 

Buglips: I'm not against fun. I don't dance. See, due to a weird fluke and my own possibly autistic self at age ten, for me dancing was not only terrifying, I mean fake-an-illness-terrifying, the little boy who was always good running away from school terrifying, but the fact that they made us dance weekly at school also made it the state of being crushed by the system.

 

So everytime I see people dancing, my reaction is not "no fun for me thanks!" it's "No oh no we can get away from them I know a good place to hide you don't have to".

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I can't believe you were six years old when I started painting miniatures.

 

Actually, there's a girl at the gas station who, I'm told, has a crush on me. She's 20, and cute. I'm of two minds about it, since she's grown and presumably capable of making her own decisions, and heck when I was 20 I had no trouble chasing ladies 15 or 20 years more than me.

 

But at the same time, I find it a little creepy that I have paint that's older than she is. :blink:

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Meh, she's 20 and cute.

 

My own anecdote above may one day save you a lot of confusion. If, one day, you are in a queue and start dancing, one of the reactions you get is that a rough looking guy with an Australian accent wails "YOU BASTARDS" and starts punching the nearest baby boomer.... you'll know what's happening. I request to be subdued, placed in the recovery position, and fed Prozac until the shaking stops.

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Pingo: you managed to hear all the good stuff.

 

Buglips: I'm not against fun. I don't dance. See, due to a weird fluke and my own possibly autistic self at age ten, for me dancing was not only terrifying, I mean fake-an-illness-terrifying, the little boy who was always good running away from school terrifying, but the fact that they made us dance weekly at school also made it the state of being crushed by the system.

 

So everytime I see people dancing, my reaction is not "no fun for me thanks!" it's "No oh no we can get away from them I know a good place to hide you don't have to".

 

 

I used to be painfully shy, once. Used to hate dancing, too. And public speaking. Heck, human interaction in general.

 

Sometime in my late teens, though, I started to go mad. And now here I am, liable to do anything spur of the moment.

 

If I ever get a goodly bit of money to match to my madness . . . it's going to get weird. See, like, my friend has a black lab named Lucy. Lucy loves me a lot. I see this dog, and what I want to do is put goggles and a cape on her, with an old leather WWI pilot's helmet. Then get a convertable, and dress myself in a white suit with a black shirt and a tie that looks like a keyboard. Then wear a spiky white hair wig and tinted welder glasses. I'll call her Schprocket, and we'll drive around town with the top down listening to Kraftwerk, hanging out over the sides of the doorsill with our tongues out.

Edited by buglips*the*goblin
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