This Evening's Turntable
Posting and reading to oddles of synthpop.
Yes, it's the eighties in here.
It's actually the EARLY eighties in here, though there's no sign of Michael Jackson. Human League's Lebanon is booming out of my computer as I type. I have all the synth bands queued in a special list, though I dropped a Eurythmics song in for the hell of it...
Even the books are dancing.
And I'm still too damn tired to come up with any pithy commentary, though I have enough energy to experience alternating waves of disgust and fury as I sort through the dirty, dirty news.
1 Comments:
as long as regan is no where in sight
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