OH MOZ. Ask me, I won't say no, howwww could IIIIIIII

Happy 50th, you joyless, grouchy, beautiful wanker.


I'm taking you out for cheeseburgers after work today to thank you for providing the soundtrack for my life, oh and also for the lives of 17,000 fixed-gear and PBR fiends in metropolitan areas throughout the United States,
because
if it's not love, then it's
the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb that will bring us together.
(PS - I keep mine hidden, too.)


I know you didn't really mean it when you said this about the rap music:

“I really do think it's a great musical stench. I find it very offensive, artless and styleless. To me it's very reminiscent of thuggery, pop thuggery. I don't want to hear it at all."
(pop thuggery is our new catch phrase, you guys)

And I know you really meant it when you said this about how you and I have experienced life in much the same way thus far:

“I lost myself to music at a very early age, and I remained there.”



If this does not make you smile and be happy for things like summertime and music and life, then I'm afraid I can never, ever allow you to see me naked.


Plus, you captured my little American girl heart when you said this:
“I am capable of looking on the bright side - I just don’t do it very often.”

And this:
“Nothing is important, so people, realising that, should get on with their lives, go mad, take their clothes off, jump in the canal, jump into one of those supermarket trolleys, race around the supermarket and steal Mars bars and kiss kittens.”

I fancy you, Steven Patrick.