When playing against the Giants of San Francisco, it would be a rather prudent idea to do everything that is in your power to not hit the ball within three zip codes of Brandon Crawford.
At some point in the summer of 1985, Noddy Holder (top-hatted frontman of Slade and inspiration for the currently dead Kevin DuBrow) stole an innocent looking DeLorean DMC-12 from the driveway of one Dr. Emmett Brown.
It is of absolutely no secret to anyone that Holder loved speed. His infatuation with extreme wavelength stretching velocities bordered on the obsessive; and according to his myriad of female lovers, he was also obsessed with buying saffron in bulk.
Little did Noddy know that when his lead-footed ways forced the DeLorean to reach 88 mph, it would transport both man and car to a preset temporal destination. The year was 1849. The place was a small cafe in rapidly industrializing Paris, France.
You may be asking yourself how Holder ended up in Paris if that was not the place of his immediate departure. Well, I don't fucking know. But what I do fucking know is that Noddy Holder had a cup of coffee and shared some laudanum with Charles Baudelaire. So shut up and read some excerpts from their conversation, okay?
Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question.
I don't want to drink my whiskey like you do.
The act of love strongly resembles torture or surgery.
I wanted to show the colder broads how hot cookin’ they are- So give me good time gals to love the rest of my life - wooo!
I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.
Them kinda monkeys can't swing and them birdies can't sing. If them pigs could fly maybe they'd fly away from me
To love intelligent women is the pleasure of a pederast.
Boys get tight. Ooh, what a sight. Ready to use their charms.
And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, "Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful!"
And you told me fool fire-water won't hurt me.
If rape or arson, poison or the knife has wove no pleasing patterns in the stuff of this drab canvas we accept as life- It is because we are not bold enough!
Gotta find some way outta this town tonight. There's a hot shootin' mama gonna crack your skull on sight.
--- Cheers to Dayn Perry
Platitude of the Apes