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August 31, 2005

9 1/2 Fugs

I present to you Mr Mickey Rourke, who is currently working a style I like to call Intoxicated Lucifier, because I'm pretty sure he'd steal your soul if he weren't so wasted. To wit:

The hair? The Van Dyke? Those glasses? That ascot? He's fully in thrall to the Dark Lord. And he'd TOTALLY take your soul in exchange for like, you know, something, if he wasn't so fully THRASHED, dude. And, yeah, he's got shit to stir and babies to eat and brimstone to boil, but that can all wait, because first he's got to paaaaaar-tay!

But watch out. Because when he rolls over and wakes up in the gutter, just before the dawn, and he has to scamper back to his lair before the harsh light of day exposes his Mark of the Beast to the trash guys, he'll probably swing by your house, ostensibly to ask if he can shower before he heads into the office because you live so much closer to his work than he does and man ALIVE did he get hammered last night, and he'd really appreciate it, you are a PEACH, just know that he is probably actually there to suck your eternal soul out through your nostrils and use it to prolong his unholy Reign of Terror here on earth. So if Mickey Rourke comes knocking at your door, gentle readers, especially if he happens to be wearing what looks like a velvet smoking jacket, take heed. Take heed, take heart, and lock your door.

Posted by Jessica at 02:20 PM | Permalink

 

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