Foo Fighters, "Walking After You"
The mind-numbing shittiness of the day didn't keep me from noticing the rise and fall of the rumor that Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny finally set up a love shack together, fulfilling at last a romantic yearning deep in the hearts of a million geeks (who, to mix franchises, cried out at once and were silenced when it predictably turned out to be bullshit). On the plus side, the rumor's falsity probably helps us avoid years of tasteless jokes based on the theme of orifice probing. So I guess we dodged a bullet after all, hey?
Also, it helps me come up with a filler post today without having to think at all: romance, The X-Files? Oh yeah, that definitely conjures up one of the best cuts from the generally excellent anyway companion album from the first X-Files film, Foo Fighters' "Walking After You", which is really about as good a song as you could write about the romantiplatoniprofessional friendsexualship Mulder and Scully had back in The X-Files' prime. There's actually something really uniquely tender about telling someone you care about that you have their back: not just that you love them, but you're willing to be responsible for them, that you have them covered. It's possible the only words in all of fantasy and science fiction that are more romantic than that are "As you wish" and "I know".
Aw, man, I didn't mean to get all sappy and sentimental on you. The ScatterKat is off in faraway lands, visiting an old high school friend and her family. Which is why I can't drown myself in the bathtub after having a day at the office like today--there'd be no one around to feed the cats.
I kid, I kid: ScatterKat's Mori is locked up in a room because she and Elvis aren't getting along too well, but Elvis would have access to my corpse and could probably get fat off it until the ScatterKat came home. There we go: a dead lawyer is partially eaten by a housecat; that is the kind of heartwarming mental image I want people to associate with Standing On The Shoulders Of Giant Midgets, not celebrity innuendo and this schmoopy horseshit.
Anyway, I need to get home and have a drink. And I'll raise a glass to you and try to do the same for me, eh?
Also, it helps me come up with a filler post today without having to think at all: romance, The X-Files? Oh yeah, that definitely conjures up one of the best cuts from the generally excellent anyway companion album from the first X-Files film, Foo Fighters' "Walking After You", which is really about as good a song as you could write about the romantiplatoniprofessional friendsexualship Mulder and Scully had back in The X-Files' prime. There's actually something really uniquely tender about telling someone you care about that you have their back: not just that you love them, but you're willing to be responsible for them, that you have them covered. It's possible the only words in all of fantasy and science fiction that are more romantic than that are "As you wish" and "I know".
Aw, man, I didn't mean to get all sappy and sentimental on you. The ScatterKat is off in faraway lands, visiting an old high school friend and her family. Which is why I can't drown myself in the bathtub after having a day at the office like today--there'd be no one around to feed the cats.
I kid, I kid: ScatterKat's Mori is locked up in a room because she and Elvis aren't getting along too well, but Elvis would have access to my corpse and could probably get fat off it until the ScatterKat came home. There we go: a dead lawyer is partially eaten by a housecat; that is the kind of heartwarming mental image I want people to associate with Standing On The Shoulders Of Giant Midgets, not celebrity innuendo and this schmoopy horseshit.
Anyway, I need to get home and have a drink. And I'll raise a glass to you and try to do the same for me, eh?
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