#Smith Pink Trucks

[smithpinktrucks]

Simplifying the New HVAC System for Our Customer by Smith Pink Trucks At Smith Pink Trucks, we prioritize customer education. Our goal is to not only perform exceptional HVAC services, but also equip homeowners with the knowledge they need to care for their system. By doing so, we aim to enhance the longevity and efficiency of their HVAC. bit.ly/3gJRwOX via YouTube https://youtu.be/DrDu-IyMNpk

[candied-boys]

📻Country Radio Themed Prompt List🐎

Y'all, it's rodeo season and I'm havin' a hot cowgirl summer!

I know there are at least a few of us out here who love a little small town, texas two-step, roll in the hay, tailgate party, coffee with a sunrise, dusty boots and sundresses kinda slow life. I know I can't stop putting my favs in situations whenever I listen to country music and I hope y'all hop on the bandwagon and join me for my first creation challenge!

So round up your fav cowboys and giddy up, gurl! We ride 'til the end of September! Radio playlists below👇

FAQ:

Can I submit something I already created if it fits the vibe?

HELL YEAH! Old content that fits the theme in anyway and new creations are all welcome! (Honestly even if it doesn't fit any of the prompts, I'll take any country content I can get so please reblog your works and tag me!)

How can I write for the country genre if I'm not familiar with it?

Don't sweat it! If you vibe with anything here that's more than enough! I tried to pick lyrics with a variety of themes - family, love, coming of age, angst, bad boys/girls etc. They all centre around a sense of connection and relationships - universally human themes.

We're all here playing games that locate the characters inside cultures outside of Japan and we're here writing for cultures outside our own when writing for these games, so don't be shy! Just let yourself have fun.

What should I do with lyrics?

Use the prompts however you like; Any and all types of content submissions are welcome — writing, drabbles, head canons, drawing, mood boards, playlists, whatever makes you say, "Hell yeah!"

Examples: You could use the lyrics directly as quotes, indirectly as the premise for the art. Anything! You could incorporate the lyrics from the rest of the song. There are a ton of great lines/ideas in the rest of each song. You're not restricted to these quotes. I just picked ones that speak to me or have a strong image. If you vibe with it and it inspires you, go for it!

What fandoms can I use with these prompts?

Any suitors from games by CYBIRD (Ikepri, Ikevamp, Ikerev, MidCin, Ikevil, Ikesen, Ikegen, Morganatic Idol, ANYTHING)

What kind of content is allowed?

Sfw, nsfw, dark, angst, fluff, suitor x suitor, selfship, oc x suitor — anything is fine. I only ask that you use Tumblr’s built-in content label system to mark content as mature when appropriate. Use tags and warnings as you see necessary.

What tags should I use?

#CountryRadioCC

please at me @candied-boys so I can add your work to a masterlist

Playlists:

Lyrics:

Heart Like A Truck - Lainey Wilson

I got a hankering for four wide tires

And I can't help it, it's the way I'm wired

'Fore you get too close

Boy, you need to know

Turn - Tyler Hubbard

The way she turns 501s into long, tan legs

She can turn a bad day around like she turns those heads

She can turn one little look into turnin' me on

Five more minutes into all night long

Fishin' in the Dark - Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

And it don't matter if we sit forever

And the fish don't bite

Jump in the river and cool ourselves

From the heat of the night

I Grew Up On A Farm - The Reklaws

Why I gotta watch the sunrise

Job ain't ever done till it's done right

I'll tell you what makes me cry about a steel guitar

And why I gotta work so hard

Dirt Cheap - Cody Johnson

That little girl that used to swing right there

I still see her pink bow in her brown hair

Runnin' up after one of them long days

A big smile makin' every little worry fade

Use Me - Dallas Smith

I'll let you go like I always do

Won't hurt as bad 'cause I always knew

That I was just a chapter, no happily-ever-after

Old Dirt Roads - Owen Riegling

Come and find me down where the treeline ends

And the cattails grow

We can be free, livin' our dreams out

Singin' to the radio

American Kids - Kenny Chesney

Sister's got a boyfriend Daddy doesn't like

Now he's sittin' out back, 3030 in his lap

In the blue bug zapper light

Fast Car - Luke Combs

Won't have to drive too far

Just across the border and into the city

And you and I can both get jobs

Finally see what it means to be living

Long Hot Summer - Keith Urban

I wanna see your brown skin shimmer

In the sun for the first time

I gotta be the one who knows just what to do to you

To get me that smile

I Like It, I Love It - Tim McGraw

Spent 48 dollars last night at the county fair

I throwed out my shoulder, but I won her that teddy bear

Cowgirls - Morgan Wallen

And she got a cold heart but she got a warm smile

Cut from the same cloth, she kinda buck-wild

Little bit angel, whole lotta outlaw

She's trouble but I'll tell you right now, y'all

A banner for y'all:

Adorable horse dividers by @/plum98

[misscammiedawn]

Story time. Allow us to ramble a little.

Recently we have been reading interviews about I Saw The TV Glow. In one interview Jane Shoenbrun mentioned her experience rewatching her own Pink Opaque, that being Buffy's musical episode, Once More With Feeling.

Reading it unlocked a key memory. A memory I'd like to share today.

CW: Suicide mention

Text version:

We have never seen Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Not all the way through anyway. By the time we had the ability to our distaste for Whedon soured the idea. We had seen the musical episode. We were sure of that, however it was lost in the sea of blurry memories from the period of our life where we were making it on our own. I shall spare the details but at 16 we were pulled out of school and at 17 kicked out on our own. This story takes place sometime within those fuzzy years.

These were the days of web forums, HTML and Limewire. The days that told you System of a Down wrote a Zelda song and that Mew could be found under a truck by the SS Anne. We lived in London at the time and during our early days of homelessness we found free ways to keep ourselves going. Did you know that one of the HMVs in Oxford Street had a movie theatre in the basement that just showed off DVDs? We watched Shrek 3 times in a row in that baby. It gave us somewhere to be that wasn't the abandoned flat we were holed up in.

More often than not we were at the library using a computer and logging into Yahoo Groups and a video game web forum. There we met a person I shall call Rosy. Rosy was an admin at the forum and was, like us, keyed in on a specific comic adaptation of the franchise. We used to read each issue religiously, camping on the floor of the W.H. Smith's in Waterloo station. Funny... we have no memories of our little sister growing up but we can remember the exact space that the comic was stocked on those shelves. Two and a half decades later...

Our mutual love of this niche comic and the fact that we were both ostracized from a portion of the fandom that was attempting to do a fan-made continuation made us fast friends. In many ways Rosy was our first true friend. She was 5 years older than us. She was also moving to London for university. We met up. Spent time at the same internet cafes and libraries.

Time flowed. We grew closer. We shared our intrigues and stories. We would sit with our back to the wall curling the wire of our landline around our finger vividly picturing the tales she told us about her roleplay adventures. That became a fixture. She would talk and talk about the fantasies and stories of her daily life and we would just visualize it.

She was a fan of Buffy.

She was excited for the sixth season starting on BBC.

As she spoke about the plot she described in great detail the plot of Glory from the previous season, elaborating on how much she enjoyed and appreciated that storyline. An orderly named Ben who was possessed by a goddess named Glory and would become her.

I cannot recall the details that she laid down, but I do recall that we would picture it vividly and clear in our head. This becoming a woman. I do not recall if we focused on the topic or she was preoccupied with it, but she elaborated on the differences between representations of men becoming women in fiction.

She elaborated that in much of culture a man becoming a woman was seen to be disempowerment. A joke. Something of a humiliation. That it was constantly looked down upon.

I feel like she was venting frustrations about her gender being used as a tool for ridicule and how Buffy as a show empowered her as a woman not just in the strength of its predominantly female cast but in that a meek and lowly man was seen to become an all powerful goddess in feminine form and how much that impressed her and resonated with her.

She even went on to elaborate on examples such as a story she had stumbled upon about a group of male prisoners having their violent urges suppressed by a feminizing treatment and how it made her feel sick to her stomach that being turned into a woman was treated as this horrific thing within that fiction.

These memories are likely inaccurate from the years and years between, particularly as they were lost to me until recent weeks. Even still... I recall us feeling somewhat hurt and confused in that moment and yet in time I believe we misunderstood her at the time. We were not yet ready to grapple the topics being laid at our feet.

I pause now to mention that note that Rosy a cis woman.

So we decided to tune in to BBC2 and see what all the fuss was about. The musical episode was our first exposure. It was adorable. We keyed in on Allison Hannigan's Willow instantly. If we had tuned in for gender related reasons then having a red haired queer woman to focus on did not hurt at all.

Plus it was lesbian representation.

A side bar which can fit its own storytime segment is that our mother is a lesbian. Our mother is a strange figure on the edge of our life, particularly as the UK courts deemed her "unsafe" to raise us and the gay community of 90s London had some biphobia strong enough that though I cannot recall any memories of seeing our mother face prejudice for having biological children I know it was an issue.

We would watch Hercules, Merlin and Xena with her. She was not shy about sharing her feelings about Lucy Lawless. In fact, now I say that, it is pretty odd that I am aware that Angelina Jolie in Girl Interuppted was her biggest screencrush.

Allosexuals are going to be allosexual, I suppose.

Point is, since a very early age we were aware of sexualities beyond hetero and just how much it made the target demographic light up to see themselves on screen.

We'll get back to that...

The musical episode of Buffy is not one to walk in on. Yet it has a romantic ballad of lesbian bliss with a mild undertone of psychological abuse strong enough that it could be detected by someone who lacked the broader context that Willow was rewriting her girlfriend's memories rather than communicate openly and honestly.

It also is entirely based about characters who have had their emotions reach a boiling point burst out into song. Song and dance in musicals are expressions of emotion that can no longer be contained by dialogue alone and that episode was forcing each character to spill their truths. Leading to the reveal that Buffy is deeply angst-ridden about being brought back to life.

Rosy had taken effort to explain that Buffy died at the end of Season 5. Between the conclusion of Season 5 of Buffy and Season 2 of Twin Peaks, it's clear that Shoenbrun also had feelings about killing off the lead in a season finale cliffhanger.

That... hit. This is a topic about our gender and not our mortality so I shall not elaborate. But that final song and the episode ending on a discomforted emotion that Buffy regretted being alive? That was the moment we became engaged with the show.

It's funny...

We watched it for 12 weeks.

The plot followed the slow corruption of the redhead that we had fixated upon. How her addiction to magic was ruining her relationships and compromising her good-natured spirit. I do not recall the episodes well enough to comment upon their quality or how well the story was handled.

I do recall how the story between Willow and Tara ended, however.

It was so senseless. So cruel. So... pointless.

Certainly, it allowed the queer backbone of the show to become an evil witch and likely be defeated in the season finale, perhaps turned back to the side of good once more? I do not recall and did not stick around.

The emotional tension between the troubled couple had hit its apex and discussions were forced to happen and Willow was discovering that she could not abuse Tara into staying. She could not bespell her without circumventing her agency and understood that she had been doing that very thing by not allowing her to remember their fights.

Then Tara drops dead.

Tara just dies.

An accidental stray bullet from outside the house just pierces through her body.

I do not know the history of this character. I was attached to her only in the way of knowing that so few pieces of positive queer media existed in the awful landscape of the 90s and it was nice to see a lesbian couple allowed to exist openly and without inference and innuendo.

And they killed her.

They just murdered her so Willow could become evil for a few episodes.

Rosy was livid too.

I have no memory of the conversations we had but I recall our intent to stop watching was solidified and she did not blame us. She knew our history. She likely knew we were trans, even if we were a lifetime away from accepting it.

Buffy may be a good show and worth watching. Perhaps some day we'll get over our distaste for Whedon and watch it.

But now we have the memory resurfaced, I wish to linger on the version that existed in our head before the musical episode. Before we knew what Willow looked like and projected ourselves upon her.

Just the mental image of a meek boy turning into a literal goddess and how that expression of empowerment resonated so deeply with our cisgender friend that it blossomed into an emotion that we would someday recognize as gender euphoria.

I have no clue how Ben was in the show. I do not know if he was an allegory, if he communicated with Glory, if this big bad of the season was someone worthy of Rosy's admiration.

All I know is that someone saw positivity reflected in the screen and a dumb kid who had so very few role models saw someone she respected described crossing the chasm of the gender spectrum as a positive thing.

Even if the representation is not perfect, even if the creative team themselves are not perfect... sometimes someone can find language to convey their truth from seeing the ideas play out on screen and sometimes hearing someone else's truth can be the key to unlocking your own.

I did not see the TV glow.

But I heard it in her voice and felt it in my heart.

It took over 15 years from those events to come out. But I did. And Rosy was there with a message on social media "It'd be rude to say 'I always knew' but..."

[ghostgorlsworld]

Violent Delights Chapter 6

Okay. I know I've been gone for a while, but I'm here to apologize and bring a new chapter lol I love you all

Summary: Billy Hargrove is the silent, angry coworker you've been trying to avoid for months, unwilling to get yourself tangled in Hawkin's bad boy. But one day, you begin to notice the scars on his body, the random attacks of headaches and violent flashbacks, the way you always had a nagging feeling there was someone else peeking at you from his eyes--you've never been able to resist a mystery.

Part One and Two can be found right here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/writerwannabetree/689499396213243904?source=share

"You're two hours early," you say wryly from your front porch. 

Billy is standing in your driveway, grinning like a vandal with his hands shoved in his pockets. "I didn't want to wait." "You're going to have to wait anyways," You say, gesturing to your wet hair and baggy Elvis shirt. "I just woke up about an hour ago." His eyes drop to your bare thighs, mouth curling at the freshly shaven skin, and you roll your eyes. 

"Where's the parents?" Billy asks, glancing at the empty driveway. "Dinner party with their friends," you answer, stepping back into the house and leaving the front door open behind you. Billy takes the hint, following you into the empty house with a shrug. 

"Are you hungry?" You ask out of politeness. "You want a drink?" "In a minute." Billy eyes your house with interest, the repainted cabinets and second-hand furniture, your baby pictures hung over the mantle. He takes one down to inspect, you in your sophomore year of high school, dressed in a jersey from your boyfriend at the time with your back against your parent's truck.

"I'm in this picture," he says, passing you the frame, "Look." Sure enough, his Camaro is parked in the very corner of the frame, his denim-clad back just barely visible through the blurriness of the camera. "Look at that," you say, "I never noticed." He takes the picture and sets it back on the mantle. "I never knew you dated Smith." "The jersey?" You laugh. "Yeah it lasted a whole month. I dumped him at that Halloween party, I think you had just came into town."

"Remember when I came into town, do you?" Billy asks, his eyes still on that picture. 

"Of course, everyone does. You were the most exciting thing to happen in Hawkins High since Jerry Jones accidentally set fire to the chem teacher." You head into the kitchen to pour yourself and Billy a glass of Kool-aide from the pitcher on the counter. "I'm going to have to get dressed before we go to the movies, you know."

But Billy isn't paying attention—he's too busy pushing open the door to your room. He grins at the fluffy pink bedspread, the piles of books, the embarrassingly large poster of Johnny Depp in the corner. You have pictures tucked into your mirror frame, Steve and Robin grinning beside you in most, the three of you squeezed into the same picture booth. 

"Cute," Billy says, brushing his fingers against a picture of you sunbathing in a skimpy swimsuit. 

"I feel like a zoo exhibit," you say as he snoops around your room, his scarred eyebrow raising at one of Steve's sweaters lying forgotten on your desk chair. 

Billy takes a seat on your bed, sprawling out as if he belongs there, his shirt riding up his stomach to reveal hard stomach and a blonde happy trail. "Nice bed, the springs don't even squeak." There's a double meaning there, his blue eyes dark and languid as they return to the bare flesh of your thighs.

"Oh stop," you say, making a face. "You're getting horny teenage boy all over my room." You reach into your closet for the dress you were planning to wear tonight, a short floral number with sweeping hippie sleeves and a daring neckline. 

Billy whistles, admiring the dress with a tilt of his curly head. "I ain't a teenager anymore, babe." You laugh. "That's even worse." 

***

Billy's POV

Billy is laying on a bed the color of Pepto Bismol, the fabric soft enough to make him want to close his eyes, her smell filling up his nose like the best kind of drug. He had taken off his jacket and left it on her desk, a reminder to both her and Steve that he had been here.

She hums softly from the bathroom as she dresses—if he listens carefully, he can almost hear the fabric sliding against her skin, his stomach filling with heat. Fuck, this room, it was so much better than he could've imagined.

Billy has never been early for a date before, but he couldn't seem to wait. He had done all the things he used to do before a date, showering and slicking his hair with hair gel—he spent fifteen minutes debating between his silky red button up and a plain white shirt before finally deciding she would like the white better, dabbing cologne on his throat, his wrists, below his belt. He took his time, enjoying the anticipation, the nervousness curling in his stomach. It felt like his first time, like he was fifteen again and twitchy with want, with excitement. 

But there was still two and a half hours left, and Billy ran out of cigarettes shortly after he got out of the shower. Fuck it. 

He likes her house, the childhood pictures on the fireplace, the yellow kitchen, the fact that her parents are nowhere to be seen. There's more books in her room than he's ever read in his life, and enough movie posters to wallpaper a small house, but he likes her room—specifically, he likes imagining her in it, showering and changing and reading under her pretty pink covers, wearing only a baggy shirt and panties that make him want to sink his teeth into her plush thighs. 

"Are you behaving in there?" She asks, her voice muffled by the bathroom door. 

Billy grins at the ceiling. "I always behave, sweetheart." "Liar."

Billy looks towards the bathroom door, the leftover steam from her shower still curling into the air. Before the Mindflayer, they would have never even made it to the goddamn movies, not with this empty house and soft bed. He likes to think he would've called her the next day, but honestly, he's always been a fucking asshole when it comes to women.

He liked being an asshole, he liked leaving just because he could. He liked not feeling anything for any of those girls—screwing his way through Hawkin's High was a fun pastime, leaving little cheerleaders crying in the parking lot.

That Billy would have laughed himself fucking sick if he could see him now, sprawled out on a girl's bed with a hard-on just from sniffing her pillows. He couldn't imagine leaving, he couldn't imagine not wanting more.

God, what did the Mindflayer do to him? The next few hours go by in a blur, movie theaters and popcorn, his hand sliding to her lower back when they took their seats in the theater. Just that small movement made his chest hurt, his hands clenching against his seat possessively. 

The movie is boring, the girl wants the rich guy, the best friend wants the girl, and the rich guy is a dickhead—a love triangle, she explains to him in a whisper, I hope she ends up with Duckie. That distracts him to the curve of her breasts in her low neckline, her softness that makes his mouth water. 

The Molly Ringwald chick doesn't end up with Duckie, which pisses him off for some reason. The rich guy doesn't know what he wants, he's unsure and helpless and doesn't understand her, yet somehow he still got the girl. It's bullshit, and that's what he tells her on their way out of the theater, his hand tucked in her back pocket like a claim.

She shrugs, "Sometimes girls are stupid, you know? What's best for us isn't usually what we want."

"Are you talking about me?" She grins, "I don't know, do you think I want you?" "You wouldn't be here if you didn't," Billy says wryly, leading them to his car. "Are you ready to go home or…do something else?" She leans against his Camaro as he opens the door for her, looking at him in that contemplative way again. "What's something else?" "We could go back to my house." Her face winces, and he quickly adds, "To kiss and shit, not fuck. I'm just not ready to bring you home." She thinks about it, he can see her pretty cogs turn. "Okay." "Okay?" Billy asks, taken off guard. 

"Okay."

[thanksforthedinosaur]

august 2023

1. annie dirusso - hybrid 2. olivia barton - i don't do anything 3. shy martin - late night thoughts 4. tiny habits - hemenway 5. savana santos - messy 6. wallice - prepaid wireless 7. alix page - automatic 8. livia o - please don't hope for somebody better 9. leanna firestone - special 10. abby holliday - better by now 11. annika bennett - scared of getting what i want 12. lauren spencer smith - hey 13. grace gardner - acrobatics 14. julie byrne - portrait of a clear day 15. matilda mann - in plain sight 16. holly humberstone - room service 17. leith ross - too much time in my house alone 18. tessa violet - kitchen song 19. tommy lefroy - worst case kid 20. illuminati hotties - truck 21. emily vaughn - god complex 22. oston - hot 23. chloe george - runaway blue 24. tiffi - hoodie 25. madisenxoxo - mothership 26. sody - frozen lake 27. lyn lapid - poster boy 28. flowerovlove - coffee shop 29. forrest nolan - miss misery 30. sara kays - fireflies 31. ggwendolyn - my year of rest & relaxation 32. fizz - close one 33. deb never - say 34. palehound - eye on the bat 35. pynkie - plz 36. girlhouse - you don't think about me 37. dee holt - sober 38. king mala - sunny side up 39. syd b - focus 40. lauren sanderson - amen 41. hailey knox - charismatic 42. marian carmel - fabric of reality 43. moon tang - water comes out of my eyes 44. cassie marin - cup! 45. flo - 3 of us 46. alayna - who am i now 47. niko rubio - un millón de besos 48. cloudy june - you problem 49. maude latour - no rush 50. claud - a good thing 51. salem ilese - strongly worded letter 52. sorry - screaming in the rain again 53. jades goudreault - you're a star kid 54. maisie peters - you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man) 55. lølø - hot girls in hell 56. peach prc - favourite person 57. superfan - for you 58. tilly louise - baggy t-shirt 59. hannah cole - big bite 60. claire rosinkranz - screw time 61. spill tab - fetišh 62. suzie true - dumb 63. sundial - liar 64. meet me @ the altar - give it up 65. carr - dirty shoes 66. liza anne - rainbow sweater 67. sophia bel - 2am (and i did it again) 68. mimi webb - house on fire 69. helvetia - sideways 70. sedona - domino 71. jeromes dream - reminders to parallel 72. glass bones - pine overcoat 73. tsosis - snake eat tail 74. ivri - infinitesimal 75. 大原ゆい子 - ムスビメ 76. oohyo - teddy bear returns (summer edition) 77. minsu - buddy 78. youra - (throat) 79. hanbee - cushion 80. 김수영 kim suyoung - stumble 81. choi jungyoon - instant lover! 82. yebit - avec 83. hathaw9y - eclipse 84. shinee - gravity 85. layzi - idk 86. qveen herby - marie antoinette 87. almondmilkhunni - anxiety 88. jamila woods - tiny garden 89. madge - buttonss 90. poppy - knockoff 91. lizzo - pink 92. khalid - silver platter 93. tiffany day - should i be ok? 94. gabby's world - just for you to hear 95. patchymate - care 96. juliet ivy - lug 97. carol ades - free 98. tinashe - talk to me nice 99. reddish blu - humble me 100. vagabon - do your worst 101. kito - sticky 102. pinkpantheress - turn your phone off 103. charli xcx - speed drive 104. billie eilish - what was i made for? https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1f3MH87NHIo6qJU4zdztU4?si=77919b43299a4a62

[newcountryradio]

New Country 27e jaargang  #T1252(S811) (C52) van 28oktober 2024  (wk 44) uitzending op Smelne fm & Crossroads Country Radio

Album van de week:  Riley Green - Don't Mind If I Do

Classic album:  Tim McGraw - Set  This Circus Down                  2002

Hits of the Year : 2011

Maandfavoriet : Cody Johnson /Carrie Underwood – I’m Gonna Love You

Maandartiest : George Jones       

George Jones –  Beer Run  W/ Garth Brooks    *maandartiest

Alan Jackson – Livin’ On Love

Martina McBride – I Love You        #1 25 jaar.

Morgan Wallen – Love Somebody

Wyatt Flores - Welcome To The Plains

Scotty Hasting -Lee Brice- Dolly Parton – Til the Last Shot’s Fired

Bailey Zimmerman – Holding On

Benjamin Todd - Shooting Star

Post Malone . Pour Me A Drink  #1

Riley Green - That’s A Mistake .  *Album vd week

Riley Green - Turnin' Dirt    Album vd week

Vince Gill – I Still Believe In You    Entertainer 1993

Blake Shelton – Honey Bee

Brad Paisley – We Danced

Merle Haggard –   Natural High

Cody Johnson /Carrie Underwood – I’m Gonna Love You .  . favoriet 

Cole Swindell - Forever to Me.  sofi

Tim McGraw - Angry All The Time

Tim McGraw - Grown Men Don't Cry  (classic album )

George Birge - Cowboy Songs.

Pam Tillis - Maybe It Was Memphis    (3 in 1) 

Pam Tillis - When You Walk In The Room      

Pam Tillis - Mi Vida Loca       

Riley Green - Alcohall of Fame

Toby Keith - She's a Hottie.

Luke Combs - Better Together  

Jelly Roll - Winning Streak..#1 album.

Michael Johnson - Give Me Wings

Jamey Johnson - Between Jennings and Jones

Cody Johnson – Til’ You Can’t

The Louvin Brothers - Wabash Cannonball     Truck song

George Jones –  Tender Years   

Sarah Darling -  Pink Skies    juweeltje

Johnny Delaware  - Running.

Oak Ridge Boys - Come On Home

Nate Smith - California gold    vw

Riley Green - Torn     Album vd week

Willie Nelson – Mr Record Man     

Eddy Gee - A Happy Man    *Dutch corner

Early Bird - Mother Played The Dobro

The Band Perry -  You Lie    #5  2011  

Chris Young – Tomorrow   #4 2011 

Rodney Atkins – Take A Back Road  #3 

Jake Owen – Barefoot Blue Jean Night  #2 2011 

Ely Young Band – Crazy Girl      #1 2011  

[ulkaralakbarova]

In Venice Beach, naive Midwesterner JB bonds with local slacker KG and they form the rock band Tenacious D. Setting out to become the world’s greatest band is no easy feat, so they set out to steal what could be the answer to their prayers… a magical guitar pick housed in a rock-and-roll museum some 300 miles away. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: JB: Jack Black KG: Kyle Gass Lee: JR Reed Dio: Ronnie James Dio Open Mic Host: Paul F. Tompkins Lil’ JB: Troy Gentile Security Guard: Ned Bellamy Security Guard: Fred Armisen Car Chase Cop / Gang Leader: Kirk Ward Truck Stop Waitress: Amy Poehler The Stranger: Tim Robbins Satan: Dave Grohl Guitar Center Guy: Ben Stiller Girl: Lara Everly Girl: Brittany Eldridge Girl: Melissa-Anne Davenport Gang Member: John Ennis Gang Member: V.J. Foster Gang Member: Jay Johnston Drunk Frat Dude: Colin Hanks Al’s Bar Waitress: Stephanie Erb Gorgeous Woman: Amy Adams Tattooed Biker: Milos Milicevic Ecstatic Woman: Molly Bryant Poopy Guy: Michael Rivkin Stand Up Comic: Gregg Turkington Exploding Head Guy: Patrick M. Walsh Fainting Woman: Bevin Kaye KG’s Mother: Evie Peck Young KG: Mason Knight Bully: Erik Walker Betty Black: Cynthia Ettinger Billy Black: Andrew Lewis Caldwell Tarot Card Reader: Laura Milligan Frat Boy #1 (uncredited): Jason Segel Bud Black (uncredited): Meat Loaf Sasquatch (uncredited): John C. Reilly Film Crew: Casting: Jeanne McCarthy Executive Producer: Georgia Kacandes Songs: Jack Black Stunts: Jack Gill Executive Producer: Ben Stiller Original Music Composer: John King Makeup Designer: Barney Burman Second Unit Director of Photography: Paul Hughen Supervising Sound Editor: Elmo Weber Stunt Double: Cole S. McKay Visual Effects Supervisor: David D. Johnson Casting: Juel Bestrop Executive Producer: Cale Boyter Stunts: Mic Rodgers Songs: Kyle Gass Writer: Liam Lynch Producer: Stuart Cornfeld Editor: David Rennie Executive Producer: Toby Emmerich Executive In Charge Of Production: Erik Holmberg Second Assistant Director: Heather Grierson Production Design: Martin Whist Sound Effects Editor: Derek Vanderhorst Director of Photography: Robert Brinkmann Executive Producer: Richard Brener Original Music Composer: Andrew Gross Second Unit Director: Rick Avery Supervising Sound Editor: David Bach First Assistant Director: Milos Milicevic Stunts: Doug Coleman Stunts: Tim Trella Stunt Driver: Angelique Midthunder Art Department Coordinator: Mike Piccirillo Stunts: Robert Chapin Set Decoration: Don Diers Costume Designer: Dayna Pink Stunts: Terry Jackson Stunt Double: John Ashker Special Effects Makeup Artist: Toni G Stunts: Tom Elliott Special Effects Makeup Artist: Justin Stafford Special Effects Makeup Artist: Mike Smithson Stunt Double: Rick Miller Stunts: Larry Rippenkroeger Stunts: Sean Graham Art Direction: Maria Baker Stunts: Ian Quinn Script Supervisor: Pamela Alch Stunts: Brian Machleit Sound Effects Editor: Clayton Weber Still Photographer: Zade Rosenthal Stunts: Frank Torres Aerial Director of Photography: David B. Nowell Hair Department Head: Linda D. Flowers Key Hair Stylist: Merribelle Anderson Makeup Artist: Ralis Kahn Hairstylist: Yeşim “Shimmy” Osman Sound Effects Editor: Marc Glassman Visual Effects: Brent M. Bowen Camera Operator: Michael FitzMaurice Sound Effects Editor: Orada Jusatayanond Costume Supervisor: Hope Slepak Stunts: Dean Bailey Stunts: Eliza Coleman Makeup Department Head: Kate Shorter Stunt Coordinator: Scotty Richards Production Supervisor: Ralph Bertelle First Assistant Camera: Thomas Vandermillen Stunt Coordinator: Brian Avery Visual Effects: John Coats Stunts: Kevin Abercrombie Special Effects Makeup Artist: Scott Stoddard Stunts: Joni Avery Stunt Driver: Ed McDermott II Special Effects Makeup Artist: Michael Marino Second Second Assistant Director: Velvet Andrews-Smith Steadicam Operator: Jon Myers Stunt Driver: Jody Hart Stunts: Roger Richman Second Second Assistant Director: Ivan Kraljević Stunts: Danny Wynands Stunts: Jeff Brockton Stunt Double: Tad Griffith Stunts: Buck McDancer Special Effects Coordinator: Andy Weder Stunt...

[mad3jokes]

Good Joke Of The Day

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[montyterrible]

An American Clouseau in Africa—or, Ernest Gets Problematic-er?

I think the potential trouble with 1997’s Ernest Goes to Africa is pretty clear from the title alone, but the above image, which was the first thing I saw upon loading the IMDb page for the movie, gets at the heart of the matter pretty cleanly as well. Of all the Ernest movies I remember watching and re-watching from my childhood, this was one of the ones I expected to have aged the worst, and that is pretty much true. You’ve got the brownface from the above image, topped off with a pretty racist accent, and which goes on for a bit, the treatment of native people and their languages and customs as a somewhat prominent part of the overall story, and a man-in-a-dress gag sequence where Ernest disguises himself to infiltrate a harem. And while there are still some fun elements, like Ernest using the bra that was part of his harem disguise to launch ostrich eggs at a pursuing truck and knock out some gunmen, the fun is definitely spoiled some for me these days because of the above insensitivity. But I more or less expected that going into it.

What surprised me most in the end was that Goes to Africa apparently was actually shot in Africa (in Johannesburg). That doesn’t absolve it of anything, obviously, but I had figured that after all of the above, the final kicker of it all would end up being that it was filmed in Tennessee or something. I wasn’t sure, looking at the outdoor locations on offer. My feeling was definitely more American Lawn Grass at points, an impression that I think arose partly from the fact that in somewhat stark contrast with Ernest Goes to Jail (1990), Goes to Africa looks much less like a “real movie.” It looks a bit flimsier, a bit less… cinematically lit, and with some footage that seems to be at a higher frame rate, though at least some of that might be intentional, to create an illusion of speed at certain points. Looking into the movie a little afterward and finding out it was one of the later, direct-to-video Ernest features made those observations make a lot of sense.

I’m keeping the “American Clouseau” thing in the title because Goes to Africa still reminds me a little of The Pink Panther. A heist to steal two precious stones in the opening scene in Africa contributes to that impression, but the international intrigue elements that kind of develop off on their own away from the main character for stretches also add a nice bit of (maybe) compelling drama to the proceedings just like they do in a similar fashion in The Return of the Pink Panther (1975). On the other hand, the visual reference for that opening is clearly Indiana Jones, and the daring fictional hero that gets evoked at points as Ernest’s love interest’s ideal man is called “Illinois Smith” to really drive that point home.

Goes to Africa is a lot Bigger than Goes to Jail in terms of its basic concept—Ernest P. Worrell, recently fired gas station mechanic, gets mistaken for a secret agent of some sort and whisked off to Africa with the waitress he’s been trying to impress—but there is something fun about the aggressively Blue-Collar-Coded Ernest, with his jeans and denim vest and ballcap and grit-colored t-shirt, being in this situation, with his pockets full of rubber chickens and teddy bears and, like, salami. It’s also just nice to watch a movie with such incredibly normal-looking people in it. It’s been said before, and about far better “old movies” than Ernest Goes to Africa, but we’re sorely missing folks like this in these dark airbrushed, roided-out days. I was mesmerized by the main antagonist’s thinning hair in part because he absolutely looked the part of the sort of White Guy Poacher you’d expect to steal valuable jewels from indigenous people in Africa, and I just know that role would not have been so well-cast if somehow Ernest Goes to Africa was made today. Which is to say that when conservatives want to make a point about “wokeness” or some such nonsense by invoking the un-make-ability of Blazing Saddles (1974), they could at least go for the deeper cut and use Ernest Goes to Africa instead, for variety’s sake maybe.

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[smithpinktrucks]

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[thisblogisboundforglory-blog]

#15 - The Country is Wild. The Basques Have a Center for Cultural Studies*

Jack Intsu is a shepherd from up in the wild Basque country, which any Nevada schoolchild can tell you is near Elko. There are rumors of some Basques over by Spain, too. But that’s only because they haven’t seen Elko yet.

Jack never graduated high school. But his familiarity with the desert and his many years in Northern Nevada, all of which is somehow pitched at a 20% grade, makes him so useful to the Danger Rangers that the BLM now employs him full time at Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. 

Close friends call it by its first name -- Red Rock. Many of the rocks are, in fact, red. Many are pink. There’s a fair bit of salmon going on, too. There’s sandy gold, as well. Some are peppermint striped. There’s a great big one the colors of Neapolitan ice cream. A largish lump is bone white.

And some of them are completely different. This is important, but not more important, at this point, than Jack.

Because Petra is absolutely not thinking about Jack right now. She is not listening for the happy chatter of the Americorps troop he supervises when he’s not trying to hand out the wonder of creation to folks only just discovering that it is possible to get seasick in a jeep.

It is coincidence that the staff up at the interpretive center happened to tell her all about where he is from and that he never graduated high school.

And she’s not angling to run into him. Nope. Petra is just taking an alternate path back to her pickup truck in case there is something really science-y to be discovered upon it. For science.

Okay, for money.

Petra isn’t a professional feces finder. Neither is she a hobbyist. She does rocks. So, usually, scat only interests her when it is old enough to become a coprolite, and, frankly, she avoids coprolites now that they can tell her their life stories. You do not want to know what horrors once lurked inside the intestines of a giant ground sloth.

Unless you do.

If that is the case, there are some nice people over on Sunrise Mountain who can help you out.

Sunrise Mountain is the small grayish lump directly across the valley from Red Rock, huddling inconspicuously next to the big grayish lump that most people think is Sunrise Mountain. 

The point is, Dr. Petra Smith is between gigs. Turd hunting is how she makes a few bucks helping out a wildlife biologist friend who actually made his grant deadline.

The bastard.

______________________________________________________________

*And the best damn cowboy poetry in the world

*And sheep. Lots of them

[slippinmickeys]

Three Part Harmony (1/?)

The worst thing about it was the screaming. She would never get it out of her head, nor any other thing from that day; the position of the bodies, the smell of cordite pricking the hairs of her nose, a red slash of blood on an old tile floor. If they had arrived five minutes later, it would have already been over, too late, and when she thought about it it made her skin crawl, an actual galvanic response.

Xx

They rumbled over the rise that led to the VanDekamp farm just as the sun was reaching the peaks of the mountains that wreathed the valley on which it sat, the horizon to the East a clouded field of magenta and rose gold. The truck they drove could barely make the climb — a Chevy Silverado that had been built during the Nixon administration. It had a tailgate that wouldn’t always hold and a rusty hole in the floor of the cab big enough that you could drop pennies through it and onto the roadway below. Mulder shifted into a lower gear as they started down the hill.

Outside the leaky window, the grass was stiff with frost, and low, brown husks of corn sat in neat rows, cut to the quick to wait for spring. Inside the cab the old radio, which modulated only by amplitude, seeped out a crackling version of Linda Ronstadt’s Blue Bayou . Scully stole another look at Mulder, her eyes coming to rest on the elbow of his red mackinaw which was worn and faded to a light pink.

She’d been thinking about it for weeks, this drive-by. Ever since Skinner had intimated by extremely back-channel intel that there might be some kind of a threat. They were just going to see what the situation was. They weren’t really going to get close.

His eyes connected with hers over the soft flannel of his shoulder, his hair now grown out enough that it brushed the collar of the thin jacket. He was half-nervous, half-angry; he didn’t think this was a good idea, but he’d reluctantly humored her, and she’d pushed, she had.

He’d been going by ‘Steve,’ and he looked the part — like a corn fed good ole boy who’d never left the state — he wore steel-toed boots and faded Wranglers and had a bushy beard that tickled the skin of her stomach in the dark.

Scully took a shaky breath and grinched at her reflection in the side mirror, looked at her dime-store attire and her too-thin cheeks. Her roots needed dyeing again, but that was harder to tell with her hair up, and so she pulled it back with a plastic clip from her purse, though nothing could be done about the wispy flyaways; red at the root and dark at the ends, like a quill dipped in poison.

When she turned back to face the windshield, Mulder sat up straighter on the bench seat, squinting into the sun.

“What is it-“ she started to say, but the words died on her tongue. Up ahead, in the driveway of the old farmhouse, was a large black SUV, parked at an angle across the gravel drive, all four of its doors standing open, exhaust purling out into the cold air in a steady plume.

“Shit,” Scully swore under her breath. Mulder leaned across her and pulled an old revolver out of the glove box before slamming the accelerator to the floor.

He dropped the gun on her lap and wiped the back of his hand across his upper lip as the truck roared down the incline toward the house. “Make sure it’s loaded,” he said, nodding towards the box of ammo still sitting in the compartment before her. Mulder corrected a fishtail which had spun the back of the truck almost to the berm and did not take his eyes off the house.

Scully’s hands shook as she flipped out the cylinder, spinning it to make sure each chamber had a bullet. She then dumped a handful of loose rounds in her pocket and another handful into the pocket of Mulder’s coat. They had only the one gun, a large caliber Smith & Wesson they’d gotten in a trade for labor by a man who no longer wished to be associated with it. Scully didn’t like the provenance, but their need outweighed any lingering ethical hesitation and in their time on the run they’d learned not to ask questions.

“You should take it,” Mulder said, jerking the wheel when they hit a rut going too fast. They were only about 40 yards out from the house and approaching fast. “You’re the better shot.”

But it was just supposed to be recon , Scully thought. Just a drive by the house, just scouting. Maybe a glimpse of the baby, Scully had thought but didn’t say, though in her dreams she is like Wewe Gombel and stole him away in the night. A TARFU situation had not been in the cards. She wasn’t prepared for this, she wasn’t—

A distant shot rang through the air, loud even over the roar of the old engine and growl of the big tires on gravel. A shotgun, Scully’s training informed her. Then a double shot; smaller caliber, semi-automatic. Mulder swore viciously and her womb contracted inside of her, as though it could feel the proximity of its own fruit.

“I’ll get the baby,” she advised him, unable, even now, to say William’s name out loud. The thought of their child hurt, the months without him leaving her with a yearning that felt like addiction. Even just the idea of holding him again sent a thrill through her body akin to a drug-like euphoria. She pressed the gun into Mulder’s lap. “You cover me.”

Mulder grunted an affirmative and pulled in hot, right behind the SUV, gravel shooting out to spray the fender of the big black Yukon, and they were out of the truck almost before it stopped moving.

Training took over and they approached the house at an angle, Scully on Mulder’s hip, quick up the steps to the front door which stood wide open. Silence for a moment in the doorway, and then a shout from upstairs, a crash, a thud, and the godawful wailing of the baby.

Mulder grabbed Scully’s collar as she tried to launch herself past him, and she almost shook him off before coming to her senses and stopping just over the threshold, one hand raised in acquiescence. Her heart pounded and her breath was coming in hot little pants, but it would help no one to get herself killed.

She could smell the sharp tang of apocrinal sweat as Mulder raised the monstrously large pistol and crept in past her, a sheen of perspiration glinting off his forehead.

Just inside and around a corner lay two bodies; what appeared to be a white male, dressed in black with half his face blown off, and several feet further on, the body of what must have been the Farmer VanDeKamp, clothed in faded coveralls with two small bullet holes just off-center of his forehead. Next to him lay a walnut-handled shotgun. Scully paused as they passed to hopelessly feel for a pulse. She glanced around for more buckshot, but seeing none, left the empty rifle where it sat.

From upstairs, the wailing continued, and had she not been distracted by it, she might have been more help.

There was a blur of motion just in front of her and a grunt as a man came sailing out of nowhere and careening into Mulder, pushing him back so violently that one second he was at her side, and the next, he was not. The Smith & Wesson went off like a cannon and clattered somewhere to the floor. Scully screamed Mulder’s name, her voice an unholy screech.

It was impossible to tell if anyone had been hit, with the two men grappling fiercely in the close quarters of the small hallway. They went careening into a wall where someone’s elbow left a dusty hole in the drywall and then separated just enough for Scully to watch as Mulder pulled back his arm to deliver a haymaker which dropped the other man to the floor.

Scully whirled, hearing a strangled shout from upstairs and the pitch of the baby’s howling intensified. When she turned back to Mulder, he was straddling the man he’d felled, his hands around the man’s neck, squeezing, squeezing, the veins on Mulder’s forehead bulging. His assailant was swatting at Mulder’s hands with ever decreasing strength and Mulder finally looked up at her, teeth clenched and eyes wild. “Go!” he grunted.

Scully wasted no more time, turning and flying up the stairs to the sound of the baby’s cries.

The shrieks were getting louder, the child terrified and calling for help that seemed not to come. The sound made her stomach churn as she moved down the hallway, mindful of the doors on either side. They had only accounted for two men, and if the open doors of the Yukon were any indication, they had at least four to contend with. Scully moved slowly and silently, fighting every maternal instinct that told her to run.

The photos that lined the walls were old and sepia-toned with hoary edges, the people in them staring out, unsmiling. Scully ducked down so that she was no longer in their line of sight. She passed a bathroom, a bedroom with a floral quilt thrown back, and then she was at the nursery, her pulse pounding a staccato rhythm.

The sound of the baby screaming seemed to increase in octave and volume the second she crossed the threshold of the child’s bedroom door, and she froze with one foot in, attempting to take in the sight before her.

William — it was him, it was really him — stood up in the crib in the corner of the room, so much bigger and older than when she’d last seen him, hands clenched on the thin railing, his face red with fury or fear, tear tracks in shiny lines down his soft, round cheeks.

On the floor near the crib lay the body of a woman, Mrs. VanDeKamp, presumably, her neck twisted the wrong way, one knee bent limply as though she still meant to get up.

On either side of the dead woman, at angles to both the baby and Scully, were two men, dressed all in black. At first, Scully thought they were standing, facing the crib, perhaps finding it difficult to execute a child, as both men held pistols forward in their hands, but after a few seconds of looking, Scully could tell something was off. For one thing, they were frozen. Not in hesitation or regret, but honest-to-god immobilization, as if they were figures on a TV screen that had been paused mid-action. For another thing, each man was floating almost four inches off of the ground.

Scully blinked once, then blinked again and took one more halting step into the room.

William’s attention shifted to her, but the men didn’t move and the baby only paused his screaming long enough to take a hiccuping breath.

From behind her, Scully could hear Mulder tearing up the stairs, knowing it was him by the sound of his desperation. He stopped in the doorway behind her and Scully could hear his breathing hitch as he took in the sight before him, as he processed the same impossible thing she was witnessing herself. Scully took another step forward, but did not take her eyes off the baby.

“Mulder, get the guns,” she said, her voice having to carry over the sound of the crying child.

“Yeah,” he said breathily, and Scully took several more steps toward the crib.

“It’s okay,” she said calmly, holding out her hands to show she wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay, William.” The boy’s face was beet red and two snotty lines ran from his nostrils to form a gummy parentheses around his still-screaming mouth. The inside of which, she noted with detached fascination, now held four little teeth.

“Shh,” she shushed. She approached the boy as she would an injured animal, warily and slowly and with an empathetic wrenching at her heart.

“It’s okay, baby,” she said, only inches away from him now and the look in his blue eyes was so heartbreaking, tears spilled over her own cheeks. The baby lifted one hand off the crib railing to reach for her, and time itself was wrent to nothing for one glorious moment as she reached back.

The second she picked him up, he stopped crying and wilted against her shoulder, either in relief or exhaustion. Behind her, she heard two loud thumps and Mulder spit out an expletive. When she turned around, the two men in black had crumpled to the floor and Mulder was standing there in surprised confusion, the shiny S&W still in his hands and the men’s two Glocks tucked into his waistband.

“Are they dead?” Scully asked, distracted by the weight of the baby in her arms. He was heavier than she remembered. Of course he was.

“I-“ Mulder stammered, “I don’t know.”

In any other circumstance, she probably would have insisted they stop to check, but instead she just stepped over the man closest to the door and looked to Mulder. “Let’s go,” she said.

They thundered down the stairs and threw themselves into the cab of the truck. They didn’t bother with seat belts as Mulder jammed down the clutch and popped it into reverse, flying away from the farm as quickly as they had flown into it.

Scully still had William in her arms, the warm thunk of his head lolling wetly on her shoulder, his breathing evening out from the hitching hiccupy gasps of the minutes previous. His little hands were clutching rhythmically at the collar of her shirt and she would have buried her face into his neck for a good long huff if she hadn’t slid sideways along the slick vinyl bench seat and into Mulder’s side.

“Jesus,” she muttered, and slid back to buckle herself in, which prompted Mulder to do the same. The road felt more pocked and rough than it had on their way in, and they rattled and shimmied their way away from the house.

“Slow down,” she said. Now was not the time to get a flat or break down, and it was unsafe as it was, with the baby.

Mulder flicked his eyes to the rear view and eased up on the gas and Scully leaned forward to look through the windshield for air cover, but there was nothing there. One more look through the back window — there was no movement from the house, and the SUV just sat there, still running, doors still open, getting smaller and smaller until they were over the hill and out of the valley and there was no longer anything left to see.

Mulder heaved a breath that he’d been holding too long. A moment later he reached out with a shy hand to run the backs of his fingers along William’s felty pajamaed arm.

“Is he okay?” he asked tenderly.

“I think so,” she answered, just above a whisper.

Mulder pulled back his arm and refocused on the road. The baby in her arms took a deep sighing breath and went limp with sleep.

[dionysianfreak]

is anyone interested in my music associations for the Theoi ? actually I don't care you're getting them anyways.

as I've shared before music is super important in my practice. i have synesthesia so my personal connections between Divine energy and music is very strong. so, I want to share my strongest song connections to each God I have a playlist for. i hope you enjoy the Theoi per my brain

Their playlists are linked in Their names if you'd like to see it in full. this is a long one, so the songs and playlists are under the cut !

Dionysos

general vibe: fast paced, sensual, ecstatic, fatherly, reckless, sadistic

song association: Verbatim — Mother Mother

I cross my legs just like a queer but my libido is strong when a lady is near, ya. What defines a straight man's straight? Is it the boxer in the briefs or a 12 ounce steak? I tell you what a women loves most, it's a man who can slap but can also stroke

song association: Sunflower — Post Malone

Every time I'm walkin' out I can hear you tellin' me to turn around. Fightin' for my trust and you won't back down even if we gotta risk it all right now. I know you're scared of the unknown. You don't wanna be alone. I know I always come and go but it's out of my control

Aphrodite

general vibe: feminine, lovestruck, independent, sexual, prideful

song association: Butterfly's Repose — Zabawa

But it's time to rest, now. Let it all melt now, wipe your tears. The sun's already set, now. Won't you go to sleep, now? I'll see you in your dreams, 'cause I'm right here. Darlin', I'm right here

song association: Sugar Daddy — Qveen Herby

If it's my right to taste the riches of the earth–these bitches better let me work. A private host, a private toast, to new horizons. Nevermind what I had to do to get these diamonds

Hermès

general vibe: obscure, crafty, goofy, wooden, repetitive

song association: Homage — Mild High Club

Please just have a laugh with me 'cause you know I'm borrowing by now. These sounds have already crowned. Come on, it's a silly dream, dreaming of the imagery unfound. The view sits nice from that cloud. and if you want a piece of my thoughts there's a coin worth flipping, why don't you toss?

song association: The Bidding — Tally Hall

I graduated at the top, I like to take advantage of the bourgeoisie, so if you have a fantasy of being a queen maybe you should blow a couple bucks on me. Going once, going twice, won't these gentlemen suffice? Any here? Any there? Any motions anywhere? Going twice going thrice–Guess this means we'll go four times a lady

song association: There Is a Light That Never Goes Out — The Smiths

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us–to die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

Hekate

general vibe: loud, wrathful, angry, avenged, strong, dominant

song association: IC3PEAK — Грустная Сука

Wild dogs are afraid both of me and of fire, that’s not a coincidence. I’m throwing up right on your marble floor, grinning at shadows in the mirror. Cross yourself every time you see me, I disrupt your beliefs. I’m ruining your day with my dead pale face...There is no one above me here luxury life is not my style. I love mud, it makes me high, I smile only when I bite

song association: Nightmare — Halsey

No, I won't smile, but I'll show you my teeth and I'ma let you speak if you just let me breathe. I've been polite, but won't be caught dead lettin' a man tell me what I should do in my bed. Keep my exes in check in my basement 'cause kindness is weakness, or worse, you're complacent. I could play nice or I could be a bully–I'm tired and angry, but somebody should be

Pan

general vibe: indie rock, masculine, indulgent, lonely, melancholy, stoner-esque, classic

song association: Breathe (In the Air) — Pink Floyd

Breathe, breathe in the air. Don't be afraid to care. Leave, but don't leave me. Look around, choose your own ground. Long you live and high you fly. Smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry, and all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be

song association: Do I Wanna Know? — Arctic Monkeys

Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week. How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. Spilling drinks on my settee

Kore

general vibe: dynamic, floral, gentle, dangerous, soft

song association: Persephone in the Garden — Aidoneus

Did you know I was there? Did you know what I needed? How, how long did I stand in the garden with my breath against the leaves as the trees bowed down and weeds would gather around my legs up to my knees

song association: Plant Life — Owl City

I'd rather waltz than just walk through the forest. The trees keep the tempo and they sway in time. Quartet of crickets chime in for the chorus. If I were to pluck on your heartstrings would you strum on mine? I've been longing for daisies to push through the floor, and I wish that plant life would grow all around me so I won't feel dead anymore

Hera

general vibe: vengeful, powerful, femme fatale, protective, motherly, regal

song association: Everything Matters — AURORA

You're part of the dawn where the light comes from the dark. You're a part of the morning and everything matters. And we are, an atom and a star. You're a part of the movement and everything matters to me

song association: Black Velvet — Alannah Myles

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell. Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high. Mama's dancin' with a baby on her shoulder, the sun is settin' like molasses in the sky. The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything. Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for black velvet and that little boy's smile. Black velvet with that slow southern style. A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees, black velvet if you please

Zeus

general vibe: contemplative, solemn, regal, boisterous, classic, gentle, classic

song association: Dreams — Fleetwood Mac

Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing. Say, women, they will come and they will go. When the rain washes you clean, you'll know, you'll know. Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions. I keep my visions to myself. It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams and have you any dreams you'd like to sell? Dreams of loneliness

song association: The Great Gig in the Sky — Pink Floyd

And I am not frightened of dying. Any time will do, I don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime. If you can hear this whispering you are dying

Ares

general vibe: dark, bassy, abstract, masculine, chaotic, phonky, fast-paced

song association: RAVE — Dxrk ダーク

there are no lyrics in this song

song association: JUDGEMENT NIGHT — HEALTH, Ghostemane

All I gave is a fuck but now don't wanna fuck up again. Don't wanna pretend that I can't demand my place, stay safe. Motherfucker wishing again the world coming and none of us think about making sense. The only way nobody comes is threaten shit up my nose. And Lord knows, and I don't want it to give me hope, and God is a no-show, God is a no-show, GOD IS A NO-SHOW

[newcountryradio]

New Country 27e jaargang  #T1233 (S792) (C36)van 10 juni 2024  (wk 24) uitzending op Smelne fm & Crossroads Country Radio

Album van de week:  Kameron Marlowe – Keepin’The Lights On     

Classic album: Hank Williams jr -  Five-O        1985

Hits of the Year : 1995

Maandfavoriet : Kaitlin Butts - Roadrunner

Maandartiest : Alabama    

3 in 1: Brooks & Dunn         

Alabama – 40 Hour Week  (for a livin’)    *maandartiest

Luke Bryan – Play It Again    #1  10 jaar

Megan Moroney - Never Left Me (From Twisters The Album)

Luke Combs - The Man He Sees In Me

Jackson Dean - Big Blue Sky

Ashley McBride – The Devil I Know  60

Conner Smith ft Hailey whitters – Roulette On The Heart  59

Tucker Wetmore – Wind Up Missin’ You 54

Bailey Zimmerman – Where It End    #1.

Kameron Marlowe - I Can Run   Album vd week

Kameron Marlowe - 911

Dolly Parton – Heartbreaker     Entertainer    1978

Shania Twain – Any Man Of Mine 1995

Lee Brice – More Than A Memory

Merle Haggard – Movin’ On    

Kaitlin Butts - Roadrunner. favoriet 

Gabby Barrett – God, Money  Love sofi

Hank Williams jr - I'm for Love.   classic album

Hank Williams jr -  Ain't Misbehavin'  classic album

Terri Clark – Poor Poor Pitiful Me  ft Lainey Wilson.

Bailey Zimmerman -Holy Smokes.

Brooks & Dunn – A Man This Lonely      (3 in 1)  

Brooks & Dunn – Believe

Brooks & Dunn - Cowgirls Don’t Cry

Kameron Marlowe -Strangers   Album

Morgan Wallen - Born With A Beer In My Hand  #1 album.

Zach Bryan – Pink Skies

Gringo Pistoleros - That's How I Got to Memphis

Vincent Mason - Can’t Just Be Me.

Jenny Don’t The Spurs – Jealous Heart

Stickers –   Girl In A Pickup Truck. (trucksong)

Alabama – There’s No Way      maandartiest

Willie Nelson – Dusty Bottles    juweeltje

Willie Nelson – Many A Long and Lonesome Highway   vw

Kameron Marlowe – Tennessee Don’t Mind   album

Jesse Daniel -  When Your Tomorrow's In The Past (feat. Jodi Lyford).

Hayfever – Moody River  - Dutch corner

Men of the Village  - Another Start.   Dutch corner

No Saint - Only One Cowboy

Clint Black – Summers Coming   #5 1994

John Michael Montgomery I Can Love You Like That  #4

John Michael Montgomery Sold #3

George Strait – Check Yes Or No  #2 1994

Tim McGraw – I Like It I Love It    #1 1994

Lost Dog Street Band – Last Train

Men Of the village

[apelcini]

so disappointed in my camera for not getting a picture of this white gmc pickup truck with a hot pink custom license plate reading “DAVE SMITH”

i’m on a road trip and I’m super bored so now you’re going to get the worst sightseeing tour of i-90 east to spokane