I Don’t Want a Wasp Neckace

Or: Trying to Live With Nature

I would like to take you down a thought train. We all have them. One minute you’re thinking about Motley Crue and what a pretentious ass you’ve become. The next minute you’re wondering whether you’ll ever have figs again if you kill the wasps in your shed.

Let’s start with “Shout at the Devil.” What follows is everything thing I thought:

I wish Motley Crue had written more songs like, “Shout at the Devil.”

God! I know all the words to “Shout at the Devil!”

(All the words to “Shout…” run through my head.

I wish I listened to more Motley Crue. I really liked them when I was a kid.

Now a lot of their songs feel a little dopey, I don’t know.

This all happened after the Judas Priest thing.

For context: My favorite heavy metal bands are Judas Priest and Iron Maiden with Black Sabbath not far behind.

Once when I was exercising (back when I exercised) it occurred to me that none of their songs were grossly sexist. I got a dopamine superiority bump and lost the ability to enjoy most hair metal.

I dwell in this a lot.

Back to the thought train.