Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Whoopee Wednesday: Part One

Dontcha love when TotD gets a little wine in him? Fires up the YouTube and blasts those ol’ New Jersey Blues and feels sorry for himself directly at you?

I always did enjoy weaponizing my Pity Parties.

But no more of that. One maudlin day is acceptable, two in a row is an unfollow, and three is a Smiths record. Today is for life, liberty, and the pursuit of some nice-nice.

Today will be for The Sexy: songs that have it, Dead members that remembered to pack it, and–perhaps later–an epistemological and socio-ontologic dissection of what The Sexy is.

We start with a song that has so much Sexy it verges on parody. It was written for a James Bond film, and not one of the new ones where Bond is only allowed to have sex once a movie; one of the old flicks where 007 barely has time to put his dick back in his pants.

Plus, it was written by Marvin Hamlisch, who never forgot to bring his Sexy to whatever award show he had been invited to.


  1. Wine? I blame The Boss.

  2. jesus h christ in a chicken basket. I am old

  3. No reason, I just like the pic

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