Well, let’s say we make it just one little pink house, okay? And you go ahead and keep it. I’d just as soon sleep here in the van.“Little Pink Houses,” John Cougar Mellancamp
There’s no accounting for taste and I don’t think smart or dumb has much to do with it, but I’ll always remember him unfondly as Johnny Cougar. I heard one of his songs on the radio the other day and couldn’t help thinking what utter, simple, pretentious crap it was.
Anyway, I liked Springsteen until about 1981 or so, when he started believing the things people wrote about him and he tried to become serious and deep with his songwriting. Either that or his muse sudenly died. Everything through Born to Run was full of life and joy and the joy of life, and then it wasn’t.
I have trouble connecting Johnny Cougar with Lynryd Skynyrd in any way at all, unless you are talking about what was left of them after the plane crash. As for Mr. Z, I guess I didn’t take enough drugs to deify Dylan as so many seem to do.
I like him. Dunno about pretension; that involves a lot more telepathic skill than I bring to the game. I don’t like all of his stuff, maybe just over half.
I guess pretending to be from Bloomington when you’re really from Seymour is offensive to some, though.
…down by the river.
Didn’t his veins seize up or something? I know his songs congealed the milk on my cornflakes. Speaking truth to power takes a toll, I guess.
Let me tell you a ditty ‘bout Jack and Diane
Let me assist you in the head with a frying pan.
John Mellencamp: the stupid man’s Bruce Springsteen.
Now wait just a minute…I liked John Mellencamp…
Actually, Mellencamp is the smart person’s, um, Lynyrd Skynrd? Or maybe the smart person’s Eagles. Springsteen is the stupid person’s Bob Dylan.
You’re way off, Phil.
1) The Allman Brothers are the smart person’s Lynard Skynard.
2) A smart person’s Eagles doesn’t exist.
3) Springsteen is New Jersey’s Bob Dylan
There’s no accounting for taste and I don’t think smart or dumb has much to do with it, but I’ll always remember him unfondly as Johnny Cougar. I heard one of his songs on the radio the other day and couldn’t help thinking what utter, simple, pretentious crap it was.
Anyway, I liked Springsteen until about 1981 or so, when he started believing the things people wrote about him and he tried to become serious and deep with his songwriting. Either that or his muse sudenly died. Everything through Born to Run was full of life and joy and the joy of life, and then it wasn’t.
I have trouble connecting Johnny Cougar with Lynryd Skynyrd in any way at all, unless you are talking about what was left of them after the plane crash. As for Mr. Z, I guess I didn’t take enough drugs to deify Dylan as so many seem to do.
On the other hand, I need a lover who won’t drive me crazy.
Does she also need to know the meaning of ‘Hey, hit the highway!’?
If so, I have someone in mind. Bertha Butt.
No, Johnny Cougar is the boil that broke off of the ass of the bass player from Molly Hatchet and started a solo career.
I like him. Dunno about pretension; that involves a lot more telepathic skill than I bring to the game. I don’t like all of his stuff, maybe just over half.
I guess pretending to be from Bloomington when you’re really from Seymour is offensive to some, though.
but I fight…, I fight and always lose. can’t figure out why, maybe i’m just wrong or a loozer