Moral Not Included

Once there was a girl (or young womyn in modern parlance) named Emily whose friends were going to the Hot Chip show in Montreal to dance their faces off with sexy Canadians in cool clothes. Emily desperately wanted to go, but she had to stay in Burlington to write her thesis because her kind but stern step-adviser was pretty much making her (since she was already late in turning in a draft) (and she kind of wanted to work on it, since she'd been neglecting everything that is "important" for the last 22 years or so).
So she went up to the library with carrots, twig tea and environmental philosophy books and pretty much cried on the keybored* while wishing she was sucking back G&Ts at the really dope, Euro-esque dance party. After a few hours in the air-tight shoe box of a library, her eyes were falling out of her head and the tea was wearing off.
All of a sudden, her heady godmother appeared out of thin air and a cloud of soy incense smoke to the tune of "Livin' Thing" by ELO! She looked like Patti Smith with a curly afro. She said, "Emily, here is what you should do. Go to the top of a mountain. Stay there for a while and imagine the most beautiful world you can. Then, decide what you can do to make it that way, and that's what you should do with your life. And you should start a punk band. And, change the background of your blog to black, it conserves energy."
Emily was like "wow! Thanks heady godmother! You're the illest."
The heady godmother was gone in a flash the color of Mark Bolan's translucent pallor, and Emily sat in the library for a minute contemplating what she'd said, and dreaming of the world the heady godmother had suggested. She got very excited about sunny days and shorter work weeks and happy babies and gardens all misty wet with rain and independence from non-renewable fuel sources (including biofuels like ethanol) and puppies and attractive men who are also sensitive. But then she realized she was still in the library, was still wrong about Heidegger, and had still been called an anti-Semite by her step-adviser for using the phrase "Judeo-Christian authority."
So she wrote for a little bit longer. And when she was done, she walked home, ate some wonderful tofu dinner that her loving sister had saved her, and watched the clip of Bowie on Extras.
The next morning, she was up with the compulsive exersizers to get to the radio station. It was a beautiful morning! The birds were chirping and the sun was rising over the mountains. Once behind the tables, she spun an ill mix of Abraham Lincoln's Cooper Union Speech (fiery to say the least) and Ratatat, and then played Koka Kola by the Clash:

I get my advice from the advertising world
Treat me nice says the party girl
Koke adds life where there isnt any
So freeze, man, freeze

Koka kola advertising and kokaine
Strolling down the broadway in the rain
Neon light sign says it
I read it in the paper-theyre crazy!
Suit your life, maybe so
In the white house-i know
All over berlin (theyve been doing it for years)
And in manhattan!

Then, some guy called in and requested "Straight to Hell" by the Clash, which Emily had not previously heard. But she put it on and the hook is the same as Paper Planes by MIA! Whoa! Two (more) points to Strummer, Jones et al.

You wanna play mind-crazed banjo
On the druggy-drag ragtime u.s.a.?
In parkland international
Hah! junkiedom u.s.a.
Where procaine proves the purest rock man groove
And rat poison
The volatile molatov says-
Pssst...
Hey chico we got a message for ya...
Vamos vamos muchacho
From alphabet city all the way a to z, dead, head
Go straight to hell

The guy called back and was very excited about the genius of the Clash and MIA.

Meanwhile, the heady godmother was back in the stacks of the cosmic collection and picking out tons of cool music as yet unheard by living ears. It was a beautiful sunny day, and Emily didn't even mind being stuck in the library to work on her thesis (again).


*LOL!!!!1