This is the rob blatt blog.

Jesus H. Christ and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

We live in the dullest state
Package stores all close at eight
Malls are full of optometrists
And restaurants we hate
Swimming across Lake Quassapaug
Stealing makeup, catching frogs
Cutting our feet on broken bottles
As we wade in the Shepaug
It’s true for horses, cows and dogs?

Connecticut’s for fucking
That’s all there is to do.
I love to listen to classic rock
and have sex with you.

Doing hole shots at the mall
Writing Ozzy on a wall
Watch the corn get tall
There’s nothing else to do at all.

Goin’ where we always go
Doin’ what we always do
Waitin’ to turn into the people
We are bound to turn into.
What else do other people do?

Connecticut’s for fucking
It’s the Nutmeg state
If we can’t afford to buy antiques
then we just copulate

Connecticut’s for fucking
And Massachusetts too
I want to climb up the sleepy giant
and have sex with you.

Up in Fairfield
In Old Lyme
We’re just fucking all the time.
Out in Derby
Down in Kent
We’re all busy getting bent
In the Constitution State.

Connecticut’s for fucking
While we’re waiting to
Turn into the people
everyone here turns into.

Connecticut’s for fucking.
There’s nothing else to do.
I wanna listen to classic rock and have sex with you.

We all love to fuck in Connecticut.
We’re all getting fucked in Connecticut.
Let’s fuck!

Can anyone tell me what the hell a “hole shot” is? Pretty much all of the song is true, which is the sad part.

Have I blogged about how I much I love my Sirius radio yet? Probably.