I fucking knew I shouldn’t have gone into the office today. After yesterday’s debacle, I knew that I was taking a big chance by going to work, but they’re kind of funny about people actually showing up and, you know, doing shit, and I didn’t think it was very likely that they’d accept a Chicago song as a valid excuse for missing work. So I went in, put on some headphones, and repeatedly jammed the polar opposite of Chicago: a song called Check My Brain, which is loud, and awesome, and has a riff that sounds like Alice in Chains mowing the lawn drunk.
Things were going pretty well for a while, and I’d almost forgotten that just 24 hours earlier I’d wanted to light Peter Cetera’s fucking eyelids on fire when all of a sudden I heard it again: That fucking voice.
You’re the meaning in my life
You’re the inspiration
Someone stick it to my wife
I’m incapable of insemination
I have to admit, I may have got those lyrics wrong because I think I fucking blacked out with rage when I heard that goddamn song come on. Really? Workers can be subjected to Peter Cetera on two consecutive days and no one goes to fucking jail? I thought people were goddamn accountable for their actions in this fucking country! That’s what the judge keeps telling me, anyway.
So fuck this, I hereby challenge Peter Cetera to a fistfight. Now you may be thinking to yourself, “Why don’t you beat up the disc jockey that played the music, or the kidnap the owner of the radio station? Peter Cetera wrote those songs ages ago. He didn’t do anything to you.” That’s a good point. Allow me to counter it with the following, airtight logic:
Look, if I go all psycho and start burning death threats in the lawns of local disc jockeys, the cops are gonna take notice, and I don’t know about you, but I dabble in human trafficking, and by “dabble in”, I mean I do it a lot. So it won’t do to have the cops poking around my house. (Before you get your panties in a wad over the human trafficking, relax: I merely kidnap Liam Neeson’s daughter and sell her back to him. I’ve done it sixteen times already! Three more and he gets her back for free!)
But if I punch Peter Cetera in the fucking face, it’s not going to be a big deal. Assuming you could find a cop willing to arrest me, and assuming the DA felt like prosecuting me, here’s how the trial would go.
Prosecutor: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are here today because of the man you see sitting at the defendant’s table. The state alleges, and will in fact prove that he did, willfully and with extreme malice aforethought, punch Peter Cetera in the…
Jury: Not Guilty!
Judge: I hereby pronounce the defendant our greatest national treasure. Release the groupies!
So as you can see, there’s a huge upside to fighting Peter Cetera, and virtually no downside. Don’t believe me? Check out this Facebook page, Chicago Peter Cetera Era:
One person likes this. And if you don’t count Peter Cetera, that’s… (gets out calculator) …like fucking no one! Who’s going to complain? Besides, it’s not like I’m going to sucker punch him (although I reserve the right to do this if he records music again in violation of numerous UN resolutions). It’ll be an even fight. We’ll square off, I’ll punch him in the ovaries, he’ll weep softly into a bouquet of posies, and everyone will be better off because of it.
So, yeah, I’m going to fight Peter Cetera. Kenny Loggins, you have been put on notice.
I’d like to laugh, but I’m too busy being angry at you for putting that stupid song in my head.
You’re the inspi-RA-tion…
Dammit Dogs, you suck.
(insert Brady Bunch waa-waaaahhh trombone noise)
I refuse to click read the lyrics or watch the video.
Who said that guy could exist?!? I won’t even type his name. Could he be any…. Creamier?
And billy corgan. What a jerk. I saw them in concert 20 years ago and was thoroughly unimpressed with his attitude.
Hell, and welcome to Rock and Roll 101. Today’s lesson, adjusting your attitude to suit Heather Gauthier. Because if you don’t, she’ll call you Creamy.
Oops. Sorry. There I went and took my bad day out on poor Peter Cetera. ARG I SAID HIS NAME NOW I’LL NEVER GET THAT SONG OUT OF MY HEAD IHATEYOUCREAMYCREAMYPETER!
Want me to beat him up for you?
And henceforth, he shall only be known as Creamy Peter.
I have the song stuck in my head now too. I hated the song then and I really hate it now. I just keep picturing Ralph Macchio getting his face kicked in in Okinawa. Actually, that part’s not so bad.
I should get a film degree, pay my dues, and work really hard until I am allowed to make a Hollywood movie, and then I’ll remake Karate Kid II, and it will be nothing but Peter Cetera getting his ass whipped.
Fuck certera- there are more important things to think aout- like making sure everyone votes for you and vesta in the Bloggies!!!!! Vote people vote, don’t let that lazy, unoriginal blogess win again!
Don’t worry, the fix is in. I’ve got pictures of Bloggie voters consorting with zoo chimps.
Yes! You get that Kenny Loggins next! A self righteous prick is what he is. I’d get him myself but unfortunately my crippling fear of being defeated in single combat by Kenny Loggins keeps me at bay. You win this round Loggins.
A Loggins/Cetera fight would be like watching two butterflies go at it.
My contempt for Kenny loggins led me to a blog of an apparent ex-friend of his. Apparently the only thing lamer than Kenny logins is the company he keeps bit I still found it enlightening:
I miss having time to go through your stuff. Waking up early is cool.
Perhaps, but I don’t recommend it. I prefer to stay in my hyperbaric chamber with a handle of whiskey until well after noon.
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