I heard you’ve been having problems with your woman. The bitch reached up high–to the ho-zone layer–and gave your arch nemesis a reacharound. On your birthday. In an Olive Garden bathroom. That’s cold, broseph. Don’t worry, Mack is here to save you. We’ll take that streetwalker down a few pegs. No, I can’t advocate using a right hook to exact revenge, but an ironic and timely mixtape can do wonders where your sissy slaps might fail ... read more
Most of you probably know what you’re in for with this column, but I’ll give a brief overview for any new readers. Basically, I’m going to frisk and strip search all the biggest music-related stories from the past week. By the article’s money shot, I’ll have reached fifty obscure associations, all noted in parenthesis. Are you ready? Than like Amelia Earthart’s (2) radio, I’m out! ... read more
Cyndi Lauper is my favorite female solo artist of all time. Go ahead and snicker if you want. It’s true. She possesses everything I look for in chick pop stars: an octave-bending set of vocal cords, a completely unique sense of fashion, and a body I’d do dirty things to. She also wrote an entire track dedicated to female masturbation and frequently performs at charity events benefitting the victims of hate crimes. Could it really get any better? Yes ... read more
It’s pretty hip to hate on Cyndi Lauper and most of the 1980s musical scene nowadays, but I still absolutely love everything about both the “Time After Time” singer and the decade she’s so inexplicably linked with. The outfits were vibrant and showy, the hair was wild and unkempt, and the people weren’t looking for anything but a good time. The me decade more than justified its name ... read more
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