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Until the next e-storm breaks,
join me, won't you, in gazing upon a Lansing, MSU, pre-Association Earvin Johnson, young n' fine in '79. All the dudes say damn, all the ladies say swoon, all the people of both genders say Pro Keds.
Courtesy of SI.
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If I weren't from here I'd probably hate the Lakers and every last one of their courageous, handsome, and upstoppable point guards.
If I weren't from my dad and mom I probably wouldn't be a lady musicnerd and wouldn't have the hips that I do.
If a frog had wings it wouldn't bump its ass a-hoppin.
So let's stop talking in hypotheticals, people, and just enjoy it all.
I listen to everything at inappropriate volume in my headphones and this, I think, is why I seem to get so much more excited about songs than everybody else in my life. Billy Joel - “Big Shot.” A big fucking beast of a song, courtesy of Long Island and the year 1979, that will always always bang. Just always.
mp3.
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