Yes, I intended to write only the return entry today, and to go back to routine observation of Kinger's lifestyle. I figured I would give it a tasteful day or two until I produced another nugget. Then I would continue to write a few entries a week consistently, making sure to do some quality control on each one. However, that all changed when I decided to log into facebook today, to find a giant status-message-comment orgy over one singular detail.
Last night at a party, Kinger sang along to every single word of "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" by Meatloaf. Stop the presses.
At first I simply flipped through all the friend-comment nonsense. I mean, seeing anybody singing along to Meatloaf is something you could post on youtube and get a few thousand views on, but by the sounds of it, they could've sold tickets to this.
I had to find out what happened.
I went straight for the jugular and talked to Kinger himself. He had previously told me that his father was a huge Meatloaf fan, so I already knew how he memorized the lyrics, but what could've prompted him to belt them out oh so prominently last night? Alcohol? Well, yeah, probably, but that's too simple. I could be drunk enough to have sex with Kenan Thompson and still not sing Meatloaf.
Kinger then launched into a Texas-sized rant about how "kids who don't even fucking know the words" were trying to steal the show and no doubt impress the ladies with their feigned knowledge of Meatloaf's lyrical genius, so he had to assume the role of "kid who fucking knows the words" and belt it as loud as possible, just to shame the fuckers out of attempting to worm their way into anything even resembling a vagina.
For simplification and visual aid we will assume "kids who don't even fucking know the words" look like this:
Kinger has officially blown me away. The amount of dignity, honor, and tact shown by him on that evening was astounding. "Kids who don't even fucking know the words" have been plaguing parties, college or otherwise, for the better part of history. Sometimes they're even pretending to sing songs that everyone else at the party likes. Kinger decided to sacrifice his own credibility as a human being just to shoo these bastards away. And something tells me that somewhere in Kinger's heart of hearts, he did it for his good ol' pep-pep as well. Rest easy, Kinger, I'm sure there was a gleam in ol' Officer King's eye for you.
So, next time you're at a party and douchebags aren't pretending to sing along to your favorite ironic 80's single, thank Kinger. Thank him hard.
No comments:
Post a Comment