#Yacht Rock Radio

[serpentinesheldonserpentine]

A frequently overlooked part of the Yacht Rock Flotilla.

I know nothing about this band- hard to believe, I know- but they were a staple on our easy listening “rock” station, WIOQ Philadelphia when I was in high school.

Easy listening rock station? Look, doofus: The Brothers and Sisters listened to the Sound Of Philadelphia on WDAS, the stoners listened to WMMR and WYSP; the pretty, peppy, preppy white girls listened to WIOQ. Hence, WIOQ. Ever hear the song where Chicago and The Beach Boys team up? I did. Lots.

The Deadheads? They listened through their headphones to the fourth side of the 'music on three sides' Second Winter album by Johnny Winter while they invented hot boxing. Far out, man.

[heycerulean]

someone show leif autoheart he would LOVE autoheart

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: December 7, 1976

Lyrics:

… There's talk on the street

It sounds so familiar

Great expectations

Everybody's watching you

… People you meet

They all seem to know you

Even your old friends

Treat you like you're something new

… Johnny-come-lately

The new kid in town

Everybody loves you

So don't let them down

… You look in her eyes

The music begins to play

Hopeless romantics

Here we go again

… But after awhile

You're lookin' the other way

It's those restless hearts

That never mend

… Oh, Johnny-come-lately

The new kid in town

Will she still love you

When you're not around?

… There's so many things

You should have told her

But night after night

You're willing to hold her, just hold her

Tears on your shoulder

… There's talk on the street

It's there to remind you

That it doesn't really matter

Which side you're on

… You're walking away

And they're talking behind you

They will never forget you

Till somebody new comes along

… Where you been lately?

There's a new kid in town

Everybody loves him, don't they?

And he's holding her

And you're still around

… Oh, my, my

There's a new kid in town

Ooh, hoo

Just another new kid in town

Ooh, hoo

Songwriter:

… Everybody's talking 'bout

The new kid in town

Everybody's walking like

The new kid in town

There's a new kid in town

I don't want to hear it

There's a new kid in town

I don't want to hear it

There's a new kid in town

There's a new kid in town

There's a new kid in town

Everybody's talking

There's a new kid in town

People started walking

There's a new kid in town

There's a new kid in town

There's a new kid in town

Glenn Lewis Frey / John David Souther / Donald Hugh Henley

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Eagles

[egghorn]

listening to the Sirius XM Yacht Rock channel and they keep saying stuff like 'soft rock, that goes hard' and 'its not a genre, its a lifestyle'.

They just played the Hall and Oates I Can't Go For That song twice within the same hour.

[uneasylisteningradio]

Transistor Sister #153 February 12, 2023

mini theme (which turned into a bit of a maxi them): songs where band members address each other!

stream on Mixcloud

Freddy Cannon - Transistor Sister Spanky & Our Gang - Sunday Will Never Be the Same

Powerplant - Broodmother Jimmie & Vella - Chica Boom Violin Sect - Fit & Anxious Delia Derbyshire - Ziwzih Ziwzih OO-OO-OO

Prospexx - Secret Police Smirk - Total Reality Keith - 98.6 A Touch of Hysteria - The Rulers Rose Melberg - Healthy Sick Gordon Bok, Ann Mayo Muir & Ed Trickett - Dark Old Waters

Innovations - Put a Little Away The Drin - Eyes Only for Space La Fraction - La Cuisine The Mall - Burning Age

Sweet - Ballroom Blitz (Live UK Tour 73) Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys - Bubbles In My Beer (feat. Tommy Duncan) Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers - Government Center Talking Heads - Take Me to the River (Live) Eggs - The Government Administrator

Agnostic Front - Power The Monkees - Papa Gene's Blues Hattie Hudson - Doggone My Good Luck Soul Alternative TV - Why Don't You Do Me Right Pixies - Monkey's Gone to Heaven MC5 - The American Ruse The Clash - Complete Control The Devils - Devil Dance

Poison - Talk Dirty to Me Chumbawamba - The Day the Nazi Died

[seaslugfanclub]

Kool-aid Isn’t the Only Thing I’m Thirsty For

Happy 4th of July everyone!

————————————————————————

“Y’know my great grandfather was stationed in France?”

“No shit? My nephew was deployed there.”

“Yeah— Cant remember for the life of me what division he was in, but he was sent back to the states after he blew off most of his fingers.”

“Yeesh.. Makes me mighty glad I missed out on all o’ that! hey- make sure to keep flippin’! These need to be grilled correctly.”

“Don’t tell a man how to use his own grill…”

Sykes, Rourke, and Alameda hovered over the grill, Sykes in charge of the burgers as he shot the shit with the old commander and cow wrangler, a half-smoked cigar hanging from each of their mouths and a chilled beer bottle in hand.

It had been a while since Sykes had celebrated the 4th, but he had subtly dominated the command of the grill. And Rourke was more than happy to piss away time, puffing on his cigar as he talked about old war battles with the two other men.

The sun beat down on the men, who had stationed themselves in the old lot behind the main studio building, both Rourke and Sykes had exchanged their usually stiff outfits for their old wife-beaters. While Alameda wore a simple plaid button up. An old radio played classic yacht rock, sitting atop a splintering picnic table. And a cooler filled with drinks was placed beside the grill, a few spare wasps hovering around the yellowed plastic of the cooler.

“(Y/N)!!!” Sykes hollered, Rourke and Alameda flinching at the noise,

“How're you doing with the Kool-aid!?”

(Y/n) opened the door to the backyard, calling back, “Almost done!!!”

Closing the door, (Y/n) turned towards Medusa, who was finishing mixing the disgustingly sweet drink, limp cigarette between her lips

“Hey, don’t get any cigarette ash in it!” They whined.

“Oh please, I won't! At least the ash would cut back the sugar.” Medusa muttered, sweeping back her dangling American flag earrings.

(Y/n) nodded, pulling on the hem of their denim shorts that stuck to their sweaty skin. “Cool, Imma bring out the ketchup and shit, Facilier, do you wanna join us?”

Facilier, who was draped on the counter across from Medusa, top hat off and slightly fanning himself shrugged,

“Eh, I’m not too big on burgers Chére. And I’m pretty sure drinking even a small glass of that red monstrosity will put me in an early grave.”

“You sure? I brought some illegal fireworks that we’ll be setting off later? You could do the honors of lighting them?”

Facilier paused his fanning, “…Illegal you say? What kind?”

“Oh I’ve got; Snakes, sparklers, firecrackers, M80, black cats, Roman candles, screamin’ Mimi’s, ladyfingers, fuzz buttles, snicker bombs, church burners, finger blasters, gut busters, crap flappers, whistling bungholes, spleen splitters, whisker biscuits, honkey lighters, hoosker do’s, hoosker don’ts, cherry bombs, nipsa daisers with scooter stick, and whistling kitty chasers.” (Y/n) listed off with their fingers.

…

“….Well, I could never pass up a good ol’ Roman candle… sure. Just let me know when you bring ‘em out.”

(Y/n) laughed, nodding excitedly as they carried out all the condiments, paper plates, and napkins to the backyard, Medusa bustling beside them with the large pitcher of iced Kool-aid.

“I haven’t had a proper July 4th cookout since I was a girl! I still remember my ol’ mother and father screaming over the undercooked hot dogs… Oh, back when this country had proper domestic violence~” Medusa cooed, a nostalgic smile making her eyes squint.

The park attendant gave Medusa the side eye, brows furrowed before shaking their head, (Y/n)’s attention quickly turned towards the large men outside.

They tried not to blatantly stare at how tight Sykes beater was stretched around his chest, or how all of the men’s chest and arm hair were slicked with sweat, OR how an old anchor tattoo made itself known on Rourkes back whenever he flexed, OR OR how good Alameda looked taking a long puff his cigar.

…

“…Meat's back on the menu tonight…” (Y/n) thought to themselves, hoping that the heat could excuse their flushed face.

To break out of there thoughts, (Y/n) shouted to the group,

“Alright! Who’s ready to party!?”

———————————————————————

“What in god's name are they doing?” Hook muttered, watching through the window in morbid fascination as (Y/n) fanatically cheered on Facilier, who had begun to laugh maniacally as he shot off three Roman candles at once.

“Oh it’s that silly American holiday, today. The one where they dress up is garish clothing and raise their cholesterol.” Cruella hisses, already feeling a headache coming on. “I tell you those Americans eat like they have free healthcare..”

“Ugh, a wretched holiday for a wretched country, the traitors..” Governor Ratcliffe sneered.

“Oh, now look at that—” Hook pointed out,

From the backyard, Rourke hands (Y/n) what seems to be a small, multicolored bazooka, a wicked grin on his face as he helps them light the rocket's fuse.

Rourke ruffled their hair, stepping back a few paces to join Sykes and Slim’s side, watching proudly as (Y/n) braces and aimed the rocket towards the sky, shooting a fiery ball high up into the night air, which promptly exploded into a burning flower of sparkles. The firework joking one of many across the dark sky.

“USA! USA! USA! USA!”

…

“…I bet 30 dollars one of them is losing a finger tonight.” Clayton speaks up amongst the crowd of villains watching from inside.

“Aye, make that 50.”

————————————————————————

Just wanted to write a little blurb celebrating the 4th of July! I realized just how little American villains the Disney cannon has, and I wanted an excuse to thirst over Rourke and Sykes in old wife- beaters grilling me a burger🤤.

(ALSO DISCLAIMER!! This was merely written for fun. I love America and I love the beautiful nature it has, but I don’t love the American government.

This was not written with any political intention, only thirst for old men and Kool—aid.)

[emswritingsstuff]

Radio Control (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

summary: playing your music in the car, daryl isn't a huge fan.

note: very self-indulgent drabble, i headcanon that daryl likes heavy rock music, so quite the opposite of yacht rock. also i wrote this in like JUNE

WC: 0.3k

—

“Turn tha’ shit down,” Daryl scoffed as reached over to the car radio. Smacking his hand lightly, you shot him an offended look. “It’s not even that loud. Besides, without the music I’d be bored as hell.” You could feel Daryl roll his eyes as he focused his attention back to the road. 

Passively listening to the music, your face lit up when Reelin’ In the Years by Steely Dan started coming through the speakers. Turning up the volume knob slightly, you sang along. Daryl’s small grumbles were heard in the background but you just ignored it, just living in the moment. Soon the music got extremely quiet, abruptly stopping your singing to look over at Daryl. 

“What was that for?” as you spoke, it was your turn to reach for the volume knob. But quickly getting stopped by Daryl who grabbed your hand and held it up. “No, can’t focus with yer hippie music blaring,” he kept sneaking glances at your angry expression. Snatching your hand back, you crossed your arms and looked out the window. 

“It’s not hippie, it's yacht rock. If you're gonna insult my music, do it right.” You could sense Daryl’s eyes roll again as you saw him pinch the bridge of his nose out of your peripheral . He let out a deep grunt and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, I should get music choice anyways,” leaning forward your put up your hand and wagged your finger. “Nuh uh, I’m passenger. I get the choice here.” 

Daryl, not wanting to continue the argument any longer, just sighed. “Fine, play what ya want. Won’t complain again.” Getting all smiley again you said a quick, “You’re the best” before turning the music back up. 

Jamming out again, you felt the happiest you had felt in a minute. Finally getting to the music you love again. And even if Daryl complained about it, you knew he loved it. You could see it in his body language when he tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

[ourpickwickclub]

The Retropop review of Bouquet is so nice and objectively fair. He gets it.

https://retropopmagazine.com/gwen-stefani-bouquet-album-review/

On 2020’s Let Me Reintroduce Myself, Gwen Stefani declared she’s ‘still the original me’, but four years later the singer – who scored a run of hits with No Doubt before launching a chart-topping solo career – reemerges as a ‘70s yacht rock siren on her fifth LP, ‘Bouquet’.

A collaboration with country producer Scott Hendricks, the 10-song LP sees the hitmaker ditch the ska, electro-pop and hip-hop sounds of her previous releases in favour of a more organic direction, resulting in her most personal body of work to date.

It’s only fitting that first single Purple Irises features Gwen’s husband, Blake Shelton, as her duet partner. Not only one of the earliest songs to emerge from the album sessions, the autobiographical track journeys through her early relationship insecurities to the pair’s life together on their Oklahoma ranch.

Lead single Somebody Else’s is something of an outlier on the record, with the storming anthem bidding farewell to the past with no uncertainty. A sure-fire radio hit, it stands out as one of the strongest tracks in her repertoire and a line in the sand as she proclaims: ‘Leaving you saved me, my God / Look at me blossom.’

The botanical theme runs through the record, with the title song and Marigolds early highlights that celebrate their connection, as she sings on the former: ‘Look at the life we made / We’re makin’ our own bouquet.’

It’s a metaphor for the album as a whole, with each song reflecting a particular moment, mood or emotion; Empty Vase is a tribute to Shelton filling her world with life and colour, while Pretty sees Gwen compare her inner glow and contentment to a dazzling diamond ring.

The understated Reminders is among the singer-songwriter’s most poignant lyrics, as she reflects upon the moments of happiness that enrich her day-to-day life, as the slow-burning Swallow My Tears sees her set aside past heartbreaks and embrace the present wholeheartedly.

"No doubt a jarring listen for longtime fans who have come to expect a signature sound from Gwen, it’s nonetheless one of the strongest releases of her career to date and further proof of the diva’s versatility in tackling a spectrum of genres with ease. It may not be her most commercial offering, but ‘Bouquet’ will surely be remembered as an essential chapter in Gwen Stefani’s decades-spanning and ever-evolving career."

A great review! Thanks for sharing it.

— M

[nycbabyjoey]

Escape From Silly Times Daycare - PROLOGUE

NSFW 18+ Only

Sunlight peeked in through the cracks in the blinds as the alarm on Michael's iPhone started to chirp. Michael struggled to crack open his eyes as he threw his large, weighted comforter from off of his body. He slumped his hand over and hit the phone to stop the incessant noise. His phone showed the same time it always did: 6:30 a.m. This was the start to Michael's day... every day.

Michael turned his eyes over to the other end of the bed to his wife, Phoebe, who was thankfully still sound asleep. Phoebe didn't work and Michael's habit of making noise early in the morning (i.e. getting ready for work) made it so he had to endure an earful from his cranky wife in addition to his early routine. So, as he slipped out from under the sheets, he made sure to do so without making a peep.

He quietly made his way over to his walk-in closet and slowly slid the door open. Rows of repeating articles of clothing were on either side - one shelf of khakis, one closet rod of grey suits. The only articles which offered a more colorful variety were Michael's button down shirts, which alternated between white or blue, and an assortment of ties to match with his outfit. The most standout tie was one covered in a pattern of dollar bills, which Phoebe had gifted him ironically enough with his own money to celebrate his first day at his new job three years ago. It was a novelty tie; obviously, he couldn't wear it to work but that didn't stop Phoebe from ranting at him that he didn't appreciate her gifts.

First, Michael stripped out of his sleeping outfit, including his dirty boxers, partially stained with the remnants of an especially exciting dream he had had last night. He chucked them into an ever-growing pile of his dirty underwear that was mounting in the laundry basket. These dreams were hazardous to the load of laundry, but they were pretty consistent since Phoebe had expressed her disinterest in having sex regularly.

Michael groggily changed into his typical outfit - white button down shirt with the top collar buttoned with a grey suit and a striped tie. After changing, he slid the closet door behind him, wincing in fear as Phoebe stirred at the sound of the door squeaking. With the door completely shut, he sighed a quiet sigh of relief, happy that he hadn't woken his wife up at the last possible moment.

Safely in the kitchen, Michael's breathing returned to an audible norm now that he was blissfully alone for the only time of his entire day. For thirty minutes, he was able to sip his coffee, eat his toast, and work on a few clues from Sunday's crossword without anyone interjecting and telling him what to do. Once the thirty minutes were up, he had to begin his drive to the office, which added to his alone time but was not nearly as relaxing as his morning coffee due to the overwhelming amount of traffic. It was a long commute into the city, which is why his alarm was set so early in the morning. He dreaded it; nonetheless, he grabbed his keys and braced for the flood of cars.

As the chorus of horns on the interstate surrounded him, Michael gripped his steering wheel and took a long, deep breath. Car horns were always the background noise to his yacht rock radio station, but Michael hadn't been able to come to terms with their daily occurrence; in fact, they only became more irritating with every commute. Michael turned up the current song, trying to drown out the roar of never-moving traffic.

"Arthur, he does as he pleases All of his life, his master's toys Deep in his heart, he's just, he's just a boy Living his life one day at a time And showing himself a pretty good time Laughing about the way they want him to be"

The verse echoed in Michael's head until he was jolted back to reality by a shout, "Mike!"

Michael was sat at his cubicle in the office with his computer monitor turned on and his email opened to several unread messages. He must've gotten lost in his routine, mindlessly parking his car, making his way up the elevator, and setting up his work area as if he were on autopilot. As if he were a zombie.

The shout came from his coworker Jim, who was sat partially on the edge of Michael's desk but with both feet on the ground. He held up a folder of forms. Michael hated Jim for always showing him up at work and brownnosing the boss. Jim had the charisma that Michael lacked but made up for in actual work.

"Morning Jim," Michael managed. "How's your day so far?"

"Not bad, not bad," Jim responded. "Just had a meeting with Mr. Boss Man. Seems like they're going to announce who's getting the big assistant manager promotion later today."

Michael had his eyes set on that promotion since the former assistant manager left the position. He was a shoo-in, after all. He had the most sales of any of the agents, was always on time, and even stayed late most days. He didn't want to seem too excited in front of Jim since that was the sort of thing that would earn him some ribbing from his coworker, so he played it cool.

"Oh yeah?" Michael inquired, continuing the conversation. "You have any idea of who's going to get it?"

Jim looked around the office, raising his eyebrows as a sly grin grew on his face. "Well... it's me!" he announced. "That's why I just had that meeting. Oh gosh, I'm supposed to keep quiet about it, but I just can't keep my big mouth shut!"

Michael's heart sank. Of course Jim had schmoozed his way into the big promotion. Why would Michael even bother getting his hopes up? Jim must've noticed Michael's reaction because he immediately took the opportunity to dig the knife in deeper.

"Hey, keep your head up," he feignedly encouraged. "There'll be other promotions. Now that I'm your supervisor, I can always put in a good word." Michael had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes and groaning. "Speaking of being your supervisor," Jim continued. "I have some sheets I need filled out before EOD that I won't be able to get to because I have a lunch thing with a client. If I send you a link with those sheets, would you be able to handle those for me?"

"Actually, I..." Michael began to protest.

"Perfect!" Jim celebrated. "That'll be such a big help! You are such a team player!" He then opened his manila folder and placed one of the forms in front of Michael. "Also, before I go, could you sign and date at the bottom there?"

Michael began to look over the form. "It's just performance review stuff," Jim clarified. "All very standard."

That was enough for Michael to sign - if it would get Jim to leave him alone faster.

Jim took the form back and thanked Michael before leaving him to get to those Google sheets that needed to be completed. Michael opened Jim's link to a folder with a dozen sheets, each with hundreds of rows that needed to be math-checked and approved. He groaned, mentally rescheduling all the tasks he had planned to work on today. These sheets would take him all day.

And so they did. As Michael diligently did the math for each row and verified the result, he felt his mind wander to the reoccurring dream he had been having. The dreams never involved his wife, which Michael would sometimes feel guilty about. Last night, the subject of Michael's fantasies was Zendaya. She had busted down the door in a pair of sexy lingerie and crawled towards the foot of the bed, ravenous for his cock. She jumped on top of him before whispering sensually, "I want to feel it throbbing inside me."

Michael came back to reality, realizing that he'd have to redo the math of the last few rows as he hadn't even been consciously paying attention to the results. He looked around anxiously, worried that someone may have noticed the slight bulge in his dress pants. It was hard for Michael to focus on the task at hand, not only because of his sexual frustration, but also because it was so goddamn boring! And as Michael would get distracted, it would only take longer and longer.

A coworker stopped by at five o'clock to tell Michael about the happy hour happening in the lounge area to celebrate Jim's promotion, but Michael still had two sheets left to do. Regardless, he would rather jump out his office's sixth floor window than "cheers" to the tool who assigned him the extra busywork anyway.

At 8:00 p.m., Michael finally finished the last row and forwarded them back to Jim before shutting down his computer.

The drive back home wasn't as painful as the one that morning, mostly because the interstate was clear of rush hour traffic at this late hour. Still, the impatience to get home after a long day frustrated Michael. It was 9:06 when Michael made it inside his front door, which gave him an hour and twenty-four minutes to eat dinner, shower, and brush his teeth before going to bed.

Phoebe was in the kitchen as Michael walked in to reheat some leftovers. She wore a black see-through lace robe, which caused the immediate return of Michael's bulge. She had rollers all through her dark hair and she snacked on some potato chips with one hand as she swiped on her iPad with the other. She didn't bother saying "hello" to Michael before rushing towards him with the iPad.

"Babe!" she exclaimed in her dash, "Look at this bag! Don't you think it would look so great with my new heels?"

Michael glanced at the Prada website only briefly, not really looking but just out of a sense of obligation. "Yeah, definitely," he half-heartedly agreed before making his way to the fridge.

"I'm so glad you think so, baby!" Phoebe cheered. "Because I ordered it earlier!"

"Didn't you get a Prada bag like three weeks ago?" Michael asked as he pulled a cold dish of ziti out of the fridge.

"I know!" Phoebe said. "Now, I'll have options!"

Michael popped the ziti in the microwave before turning back to Phoebe. "Ok, honey, just..." he stammered. "We may need to be a bit careful with spending going forward. I... I didn't get the promotion."

"Oh, honey," Phoebe said with melancholy. "I heard. I'm so sorry."

"You did?" Michael questioned.

"Um... yeah," Phoebe responded. "Your... your boss called."

Michael sighed as the microwave beeped. He dejectedly opened the microwave door and grabbed the now hot bowl of ziti, throwing it on the kitchen counter as his fingers quickly felt the burn.

"Come tomorrow, that silly promotion isn't even going to matter," Phoebe declared as she grabbed her bag of potato chips and started to head upstairs. She paused though and turned back towards Michael, "Oh, before you take a shower, can you take the trash out? It's full. Thanks, baby!" She made some kissy noises and made her way upstairs.

Once Michael finished his dinner and took the trash out to the end of the driveway, he took a shower before joining Phoebe in the bed where she was reading Gone Girl next to the reading lamp stationed on her bedside table. Michael, horny from earlier, started to cuddle up to his wife and kiss her on the cheek. Despite his obvious hints, Phoebe would just smile and giggle shortly with her eyes glued to her novel. Michael figured his best chance would be to just ask, preparing himself for the usual rejection.

"Oh, baby," Phoebe pitied. "I'm in the middle of my book."

"It'll be quick," Michael bargained, knowing that was typically a bad thing.

"Fine," Phoebe agreed, much to Michael's surprise. She lifted her robe to unveil her pussy, dry as a desert. Michael, on the other hand, was ready to go and his precum acted as an instantaneous lube. He climbed on top of his wife and inserted himself; his tiny penis didn't cause any discomfort for his wife as he did so. As he thrust, Phoebe held her book behind his head, continuing to read as Michael did his best to pleasure her. She read about a paragraph before the sex ended with Michael whimpering and keeling over to his side of the bed. Michael gasped for air in pure ecstasy while Phoebe turned to the next page in her book. "That was nice, dear," Phoebe said simply, obviously not believing her own words.

It was 10:39 at that point and Michael closed his eyes as Phoebe continued her book. As Michael started to fall asleep, he thought ahead to the day that awaited him. It would be another average day where he would be used and emotionally neglected by his wife Phoebe, teased and condescended to by his coworker Jim, and rendered involuntarily celibate much to his sexual frustration; all the while feeling trapped in this never ending, soul-crushing cycle that made him feel worthless.

Michael was right about the details of tomorrow, but his overall conclusion was not correct - tomorrow would be anything other than an average day.

Waking up to his alarm at 6:30 a.m. was much the same as was his regimen of throwing his messy boxers in the laundry, getting dressed in a replica of yesterday's suit, and making his way downstairs to the coffee machine without waking Phoebe up.

However, as he sipped his coffee and worked on his crossword, he noticed Phoebe coming down the stairs in the same lace robe from last night. He set his coffee down and immediately began pleading, "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you up! I'll try and be quieter next time!"

"You didn't wake me up," Phoebe said morosely. "I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Michael questioned. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Michael turned to it as if something alien was on the other side; no one ever knocked this early in the morning. He looked to Phoebe for some type of validation, but she stared at the floor. After a moment, he walked over to the front door and opened it. Two large uniformed men pushed past Michael and entered the house.

"Hey!" Michael called after them, following closely behind. "Hey! You can't just barge in here! What's the big idea?!"

He made his way back to the kitchen where the two men were stood next to Phoebe. "I assume this is him?" one of the guys said, pointing at Michael. Phoebe silently nodded and the man turned to address Michael for the first time.

"You've been enrolled in a special program for reeducation," the man explained coldly. "Your program begins immediately and we are here to escort you away as soon as possible. You are required to leave all personal belongings behind or they will be confiscated from you at your arrival. If you resist, we are authorized to detain you through force. If you don't have any questions at this time, then we ask you to turn around and leave with us peacefully."

Michael's mouth hung agape. For seconds - what felt like minutes in his head - he was speechless. "Any questions?!" he finally responded. "Any questions? Yeah, I have a few questions. Phoebe, what are they talking about?"

Phoebe looked up at Michael with some shame. Her voice cracked a little as she spoke, "I love you, Michael. I really, really do, but... you're not the kind of husband I need. I need someone who can provide for me. Someone who bets on himself and wins every time. I need a real, supportive man."

"I provide for you!" Michael shouted back.

"You can't provide everything I need!" Phoebe claimed.

Michael scoffed. "All of this is because I didn't get the promotion, isn't it?"

"It's not just that!" Phoebe answered. "Our sex is terrible. I barely feel your prick inside me and it only takes ten seconds of me lying there like a starfish for you to..."

"Ok! Ok! I get it!" Michael interrupted, suddenly embarrassed that this intimate conversation was taking place in front of two strange men. "So what? You think you can just send me away to this 'reeducation' program and they're gonna teach me how to be a big, strong man for you?"

"No, that's not what they're going to teach you," Phoebe clarified. Michael was puzzled. It felt like every minute detail Phoebe dropped into the conversation changed Michael's understanding of the problem entirely. Why was Phoebe complaining about his inability to provide and please her if she wasn't going to send him away to a program that fixed those issues? She continued, "When you come back, things will be completely different. But, we can be together forever. And happy! It's for the best."

"You can't make me go," Michael said, standing his ground. "You can't take me against my will. That's illegal!"

"We have all the proper paperwork," one of the men said, pulling a piece of paper out of his uniform's inside pocket. Michael's eyes widened as the man unfolded the form to display to him. Michael's signature and yesterday's date were at the bottom, clear as day. It was his performance review forms - except it wasn't. He had agreed to something else entirely without his knowledge.

Michael turned to Phoebe with a look of absolute betrayal in his eyes. Phoebe looked away again, unable to make eye contact with him. "Jim?" was all Michael could utter in absolute disbelief at Phoebe's disloyalty.

"Alright, time to go," the other man said, grabbing Michael by the wrist. The other man held Michael by his other wrist and Michael complied as they lead him towards the front door.

An unfamiliar van was parked outside Michael's house. Michael was lead to the back of the van and instructed to climb inside. The van doors were shut, sealing Michael away from his mundane, everyday life.

Michael took one last look through the van windows as the van pulled away from his home, unaware of the experience that was waiting from him at his ultimate destination.

If you missed my last post, then you may not know that all future chapters of this story will be posted on a monthly basis to my Patreon exclusively for patrons at the $7 tier. If you want to know where Michael is being sent away to (you can probably guess; it's in the title), then join the club over on Patreon! Thanks guys!

[happinessismusic]

“It seems like eight years probably feels like a long time for a lot of people, but for me, it was eight years of healing, eight years of transitioning, it went really fast,” she said. “It’s interesting that this song rose [to become to the new single], because the rest of the record has nothing to do with that subject.”

The new single isn’t the only thing deceptive about Bouquet: Despite the cowboy hat on the cover, and the fact that the album was recorded in Nashville by an A-list producer (Scott Hendricks) with an all-star band of Music Row musicians, Stefani is insistent that she has not gone country. “It’s not a country record,” she says.

Instead, Bouquet is packed with Seventies pop-rock radio gems, channeled through the prism of Nashville, but still authentically Gwen. “It’s all the stuff I listened to in the station wagon on the way to church,” Stefani says of the album. “Yacht rock, though it wasn’t called yacht rock then. The music I listen to now, I wanted this album to reflect that.”

That desire to make a cohesive — and with just 10 songs, focused — album also inspired its title. “I wanted it to be one big statement, and that’s why I feel Bouquet is a really perfect title,” Stefani said. “Like each song was handpicked with meaning.”

The flower motif — long a frequent theme in Stefani’s music, going back to the lyric “Born to blossom, bloom to perish” in her debut solo single, “What You Waiting For?” — extends into the music, with song titles like “Marigolds,” “Empty Vase,” “Late to Bloom,” and “Purple Irises,” the first track Stefani wrote for the album and a duet with Shelton inspired by their shared love of gardening.

[pailsofpasta]

maybe i just love jimmy buffet so much because i worked on his musical but I love him so much can we just talk about it for a sec. He is classic 70s soft rock, yacht rock and happiness but then you add in the beautiful poetry of his lyricism, the joy and carefreeness combined with a really gorgeous hit of nostalgia and bittersweet aging.

like for one, He Went to Paris, are you kidding me?? "now he lives in the island, fishes the pilings, drinks his green label each day" "through 86 years of perpetual motion" "some of its magic, some of its tragic, but i had a good life all the way" PLEASE i cannot imagine how that must feel to have lived and loved and felt so much pain your entire life I can barely handle my 20 years.

A Pirate Looks at Forty, "mother mother ocean" i think music just hits me too hard but you cannot tell me this isnt the most beautiful shit youve ever heard in your life. hes describing how mother earth is watching humans evolve and how he identifies with something he can never be. hes lived so much and yet "i made enough money to buy Miami but i pissed it away so fast, never meant to last". maybe its just the melody but everything is fleeting and hes acknowledging how hes getting older and nothing is permanent. "got to go fishing, down to rock bottom again" you hit rock bottom over and over and over again through your life and through it all you keep on living.

COME MONDAY, maybe I just crave security in myself and peace, and its a breakup song, but Oh My God "yes, its been quite a summer... and now you're off on vacation, something you try to explain" perfectly encapsulates the end of summer feeling. I am so bittersweet about everything. "i hope you're enjoying the scenery, i know that its pretty up there" GOD it takes me back to being 10 listening to the radio with my dad and learning the feeling for the first time.

"if we couldn't laugh we would all go insane" "if it suddenly ended tomorrow I could somehow adjust to the fall". shut the fuck up im in tears.

"so many nights i just dream of the ocean, god I wish i was sailing again" ME TOO JIMMY ME TOO

Tin Cup Chalice. just. it makes me yearn.

i am a drunk old man at heart leave me be to cry over buffet in peace.

[serpentinesheldonserpentine]

About to sail the smooth waters. Come aboard, we’re expecting you.

[pedge-page]

I found this detailing in Joel’s house and genuinely all I have to say is whoever was eating that pizza with a fork can go to hell 🤨

And look how cuteee🥹 ⬇️

Ok first it's also a PLASTIC knife like how????? With pizza???? Not even Italian Margherita flatbread pizza but like thick American greasy tough bread pizza????

I can't even figure it out cuz it's definitely not Joel nor Tommy.

Maybe its Sarah after she gets in her cleansing phase and she doesn't want grease to touch her face or fingers and Joel begrudgingly had to ask the delivery / cashieer dude if he had forks for his daughter.

But THE SECOND ONE UGHH SO CUTE. SHE WAS SO SMOL. BB. like can you image thick man Joel just being so big, and having this Little Thing on two wheels yeeting around his feet like how is he supposed to navigate a mouse???

And Her Lil dress?????🥺 like he had to shop and pick out her cute clothes each few months when she kept out growing them. Did he ever get sad having to toss her baby socks out ?

When she stopped calling him Daddy in favor of just Dad?

When she started listening to her own modern punk rock music and no longer tolerated his Yacht Rock radio that he played to make her fall asleep in his arms?

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: August 14, 1981

Lyrics:

Once in your life, you find her

Someone that turns your heart around

The next thing you know, you're closing down the town

Wake up and it's still with you

Even though you left her way across town

Wondering to yourself, "Hey, what've I found?"

When you get caught between the Moon and New York City

I know it's crazy, but it's true

If you get caught between the Moon and New York City

The best that you can do

The best that you can do is fall in love

Arthur he does as he pleases

All of his life, he's masked his choice and

Deep in his heart, he's just, he's just a boy

Living his life one day at a time

And showing himself a really good time

Laughing about the way they want him to be

When you get caught between the Moon and New York City

I know it's crazy, but it's true

If you get caught between the Moon and New York City

The best that you can do (the best that you can do)

The best that you can do is fall in love

When you get caught between the Moon and New York City

I know it's crazy, but it's true

If you get caught between the Moon and New York City

The best that you can do (the best that you can do)

The best that you can do is fall in love

When you get caught between the Moon and New York City

I know it's crazy, but it's true

If you get caught between the Moon and New York City

The best that you can do (the best that you can do)

The best that you can do is fall in love

Songwriter:

If you get caught between the Moon and New York City

I know it's crazy, hey, but it's true

Christopher C. Cross / Burt F. Bacharach / Peter W. Allen / Carole Bayer Sager

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Christopher Cross

[accidentalautomaton]

you know what. fuck it. tma music hcs.

jon- mostly classical, movie scores. he likes violin and piano and sometimes catches himself tapping out the melody. i’d also say a little bit of jazz, billie holliday sort of stuff. he doesn’t like lyrics because he can’t focus when he’s working but he’s got a few records he keeps lying around his flat

martin- also classical, but more relaxing guitar/piano stuff. big lofi fan; he’ll put the video on and spend 10 minutes watching it on loop. i think he’d also be a kate bush/fiona applefan, that kind of music he sings while cooking or cleaning etc. he’s a big fan of traditional music. he WILL sing an obscure polish folksong and you WILL listen and be amazed how decent he is at singing

tim- 80’s dad music. yacht rock. margaritaville. he doesn’t really pay attention/listen to music a lot so he likes what he did as a kid for the most part. he will also listen to depeche mode on occasion, and enjoys a small amount of rap- mostly just listens to whatever’s playing at the moment and says he enjoys it. will make fun of everyone else’s taste, though

sasha- she’s really into japanese pop at the moment and fleetwood mac. she likes listening to podcasts more than music but is known to enjoy a weyes blood song in her time. likes music she can airdrum with. i feel like she would be a jazz fan as well, but likes music with more lyrics and stories. she’s cried at don mclean songs multiple times but will never admit it.

melanie- COME ON. you know she listens to punk rock music. she likes stuff that’s bass-heavy and is known to stim by pretending to play the guitar. she likes stuff like tv girl and the crane wives, and listens to almost exclusively female musicians. but she will make an exception for tame impala, which is nothing like what else she listens to but she likes the vibes.

georgie- carol king, fleetwood mac, that sort of music. she likes stuff you can kind of tune out of when you’re working, but also will listen to of montreal sometimes. she wears those big headphones and has them covered in stickers and keeps them in the case. she also likes to listen to waltzes and songs u can dance to because her and melanie dance together a lot. her music taste comes a lot from her mom.

gerry- 80s-90s goth. (i already said this) but he usually turns his music up really loud because its understimulating so his hearing is kind of shit at this point. he taught himself spanish for fun as a kid and he WILL dramatically sing cien años alone. i think he would also be a nine inch nails/ insane clown posse kind of guy and occasionally listen to death metal but it’s a little too consistent for him. has those shitty little earbuds that completely destroy the sound and that’s exactly how he likes it

daisy- riot grrl music and angry folksongs. she will be the person blasting music beside you at the red light and she Will make it your problem

basira- is more a podcast/silence person (she’s really into history podcasts) and enjoys audiobooks but if listening to music she’ll put on whatever’s on the radio. has a soft spot for kpop but won’t listen to it often

[awesomehoggirl]

😭 i have to write a report on my past year at uni for my scholarship donor and the example letter is like 'i volunteered at a hospital and was on the cheerleading team and won competitions and worked a mental health service!!!' All i have done is start and stop and start antidepressants. and play yacht rock on the radio with my buddy:)