International Louie Louie Day
Following the signal…
People used to say that, when every other living thing was gone, only cockroaches would survive a nuclear apocalypse.
For some reason, you’re still here — and you’ve definitely seen your share of cockroaches. That’s about it for signs of life, though. Except for the signal.
It’s the only human voice you could find on your truck’s radio dial. There’s a relentless, chugging beat behind it, and the words are notoriously unintelligible.
So unintelligible, in fact, that an FBI obscenity investigation churned out pages and pages of documents that hoped to declare the lyrics obscene. As they listened to the version by the Kingsman, pervy-eared Feds heard “Grab her way down low” in the repeated gotta-go line; their best misheard lyric was, “I felt my bone . . ah . . in her hair.”
1-2-3. 1-2. 1-2-3. 1-2.
The song is relentless, an earworm, ear-cockroach broadcast on perpetual repeat. It’s the rock song that survived the apocalypse, and you dream of some impossible frat party, the same track spinning, a crowd dancing at the end of the world.
You steer towards where the signal is strongest, as cities burn in your rearview mirror.
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