#cool struttin

[bainer]

Paul Chambers (with bass), Sonny Clark, Francis Wolff (background), Art Farmer (trumpet), and Jackie McLean (alto saxophone) during rehearsal for Clark's Cool Struttin' LP released 1958 (photos by Francis Wolff)

[jt1674]

[goodiecornbread]

Danuary, day 18

Looking cool and casual.

Happy birthday, Sonia! This one is actually posted on your birthday!

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

WAKE of the CLASH!

New chapter, new update graphics. How's our master escape artist gonna get out of this one?

on TAPAS and WEBTOON

[bleucoffeecup]

i can js vividly imagine them all STRUTTING in beat to Hot Chocolate's You Sexy Thing kdbsjsns and it's the most beautiful shit ever

More punks 🤎

[sleepyjuice]

Omg imagine everyone outside watching the fireworks but you and JJ are fucking in his room and the lights from the fireworks illuminate him beautifully through the window 😩

PHEW!!! i have a few filled requests sitting in my drafts but i had to write this and get it posted today for the 4th! thank you pookie for this!<3

warnings: 18+!!! unprotected p in v sex, creampie, think that’s it!

“Ah, fuck, JJ, they’re gonna hear us.” You spoke between moans, face smushed into JJ’s pillow as he slammed his cock into you from behind, the loud sounds of skin slapping against skin (even louder than usual in this position) filling the room.

His grip on your hips was tight, his rings cool against your skin creating the perfect contrast to soothe the slight burn from his grip.

“It’s loud as shit out there, baby, the whole fuckin’ island lightin’ off fireworks right now, no one’s gonna hear us.” He assured you, not stopping his movements as he spoke, his voice shaky from his relentless speed.

He was right, it was loud as fuck outside. Fireworks had been going off for at least an hour now and they would surely continue throughout the evening, so you two weren’t missing much.

You didn’t plan on sneaking away with JJ, but apparently he did. Something along the lines of how you were “struttin’ around in that thin ass bikini all damn day.” But you had no complaints.

“I’m close, Jay, oh god.” You whined as his cock continued to hit that perfect spot inside of you, your stomach tightening by the second.

“Yeah? Let me see that pretty face.” He breathed, his hands quickly sliding up your waist, cock still deep inside of you as he flipped you around so you were on your back and you were looking into each other’s eyes.

He had only stopped his movements for maybe three seconds, quickly continuing where he left off, his strong arms planted on both sides of you head as he kept himself up, his abs contracting with every thrust. He was so fucking hot.

Through glossy eyes, you took a moment to really take in the sight of JJ above you. His blonde hair and tan skin was perfectly illuminated by a multitude of different colors that seeped in through the window from outside, fireworks in the distance as well as many that were much closer sparkling in the night sky. You were a done deal.

“Shit— I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop…” You whimpered, your orgasm exploding through your body, similar to the fireworks just outside the window.

Your pussy clenched hard around his cock as his thrusts grew more and more sloppy by the second, his gaze transfixed on your face, flushed cheeks and parted lips as a sequence of soft curses and moans fell from your lips as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“God, you’re so perfect, takin’ my dick so good. Fuckin’ Christ, gonna cum, baby.”

That was more than enough to bring him to his end as well, stilling inside of you as you felt his thick cock twitch, his balls now wet with your cum pressed against your ass as he bottomed out and released inside of you, long hot spurts filling you up.

He grunted loudly as he spilled inside of you, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you a few more times, fucking his cum deeper into your pussy.

You gasped at the feeling, not missing the loud squelching sounds made from his movements, a pool of both of your releases dripping out of you once he finally pulled out.

You were panting, your naked chest rising and falling rapidly as you worked to catch your breath, properly and perfectly fucked.

“Shit,” JJ breathed, dipping his head to kiss your swollen lips sweetly before leaning back and grabbing a towel to clean you up.

“God bless America, ain’t that right?”

“JJ, shut the fuck up.”

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 | 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶A deleted scene from chapter twelve where receptionist!reader acts like a bimbo in front of Eddie just to rile him up. Written very tongue-in-cheek at the beginning.✶

NSFW — sexual themes, handjob, unresolved sexual tension, 18+

↳ start the story here to catch up!

[wc: 2.1k]

Heeding your checklist of chores, you idled at the workbench against the far corner of the wall. There were a few of the usual things you organized: placing nuts and bolts in drawers, facing products with their labels out, tidying small boxes, folding the end of the paper towel roll so it didn’t unfurl itself in the turbulent path of the oscillating fan. You bent over to toss cellophane wrappers into the waste paper bin, and took your time musing if the liner should be changed despite the little amount of balled up paper weighing down the bottom. Standing, you swept off the unsanded tabletop with your hands, and worked a crusty rag over an oil streak, making a mental note to call the laundry service to swing by a day early.

As you stepped away, you knocked a pencil to the floor. Its bright yellow body was impossible to miss, along with its excruciatingly long hexagonal roll carried by your elbow to the very edge, but you managed. You knelt to your hands and knees to retrieve the writing utensil, inspecting its broken tip. The graphite was missing completely, leaving behind an empty hole where it once was. An unfortunate accident. You rotated it a few times looking for other flaws—an honorable way to spend your time.

“You doin’ this on purpose?” gruffed out an annoyed voice behind you.

No need to check, you heard the amused twist at the corner of his lips. His left canine was probably on show, too. Not in a hurry to confirm, you gripped the pencil in your fist, and leaned forward, stretching in search of the missing lead before it was stomped into dust and potentially transferred from someone’s boot sole into a wealthy client’s car. You were thinking of them, really.

The floor was a rewarding oasis in the noonday sun baking through the warehouse windows. Your flat splayed hands and knuckles worked over the grit of dirt to inch your pursuit closer to the wall, drinking in the chill of the epoxy coated concrete cooling you down better than a 50 cent clear plastic cup of Kool Aid at a kid’s misspelled lemonaide stand. Though, the unforgiving flooring bit into your joints, and indented your knees with the netting of your pantyhose. But Eddie’s study did not sway to your shoe slipping off your heel. No, he was a gentleman. And as a gentleman, he praised the wealth of curves you put on display.

He used the heels of his heavy boots to drag himself from under a Mustang, thumping up beside you, wheels on the creeper rolling along the slick floor.

The lower you dipped your chest, the higher your skirt hem tickled the back of your thighs. In total innocence—truly giving your best effort to find the missing pencil tip—you tilted your hips to unimaginable degrees, presenting your ass to the point even your lower back side-eyed your act.

Smooth backs of fingers lifted the hem more. Eddie curled his index under your skirt, and assisted it to the crease of your cheek, following the change in nylon with his rough thumbprint as it wove denser around your thighs to hold you in. Tummy Control, it was advertised as. To a man who had seldom encounters with women, this meant very little to him, as did the change in texture. Though, curiously, he rubbed at it with interest.

“You’re something else, you know that?” But his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise. “I’m out here working my ass off, and you’re struttin’ around the garage in this lil’ piece.” The little piece in question was your corporate approved pencil skirt from a long forgotten temp job when your apartment lost two roommates in a breakup, and rent was past due.

Pandering to your audience of one, you shuffled two of the tiniest inches backwards, and steadied your hand on his outstretched leg. You bent at the hips, filling his large palm with a handful of your ass, and he admired you in a brush of fingertips near the innermost valley of your thigh, licking a divine chill up your spine. Playing along, you pretended to just notice him, assuming a sinless gasp, and following it with many airheaded inflections, “Oh! Didn’t see you there, handsome. Am I distracting you?”

The standing fan swung its head in your direction, sweeping Eddie’s bangs off his forehead in a brief burst.

You’d been on hundreds of dates, and not once had you been so deeply complimented by someone’s gaze.

Eddie dwelled in the distraction. He stroked his thumb over the fat, and traced his pinky along the hypersensitive crease before the swell which had your muscles tightening in a squirm. He was so close to the middle seam of the pantyhose. Perhaps he knew this as well, but didn’t care—he was just happy to be touching you. Laid out in the neon orange creeper, sun glancing off the packed garage, casting a glow across his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to look at you, so forthcoming and open. A trap, if there ever was one, luring you into picturing him twisted amongst your bedding on a late morning.

As he tracked his gaze over your backside, an aching reminder moseyed its way into his consciousness. Setting into a glare, he forced his way through any pleasantness lingering in his chest to tell you plainly, “Sweetheart, you’re fucking torturing me here.” You giggled, and he broke, falling victim to the squinch at his crow’s feet.

“You think I’m not torturing myself, too?”

“Dunno.” He craned his head back to check underneath the car for where each pair of boots were moving, and you peeped through the driver’s side window to keep tabs on the seated customers in the lobby. Once you both ensured there was no danger of being caught, he turned his attention to you fully. “You’re not wearing my favorite pair, so I couldn’t tell.” In case you weren’t sure, he wrung his hand around your leg, and drummed his fingers where there should be an easily accessible hole in your tights, where he could drag his fingers through your slick truth. His sorry features were tainted with remorse when your plush thighs weren't spilling out from the nylon; however, he drew his eyebrows in mock sympathy, and traced the area. “Could make these my new favorite pair, though.”

You about melted into a puddle of dumbstruck glee at his first foray into initiating dirty talk. “Yeah?” you stressed the word like he would—big smile and all. You raised the placement of your grip on his leg up, further, still going until the inside of your thumb threatened to assist what laid fat and heavy towards his hip. Car exhaust, pungent motor oil, and fumes swam in your head. Mind dizzy, you skimmed your nails over his heavy sack pressed tight against the seam of his coveralls. An implied line was drawn along your heat by his featherlight touch. You leaned over him, real close, chest over chest, knees spread because his hand encouraged you to do so. Mouth to mouth, considering kissing the dirt from his lips. “Wanna rip ‘em, and have me on top while you’re on this thing?”

Eddie moaned, and it wasn’t shy in the loud garage. “Want it so fucking bad, baby.”

A single ding from the bell atop your desk drew your attention.

Bodies paused, you both existed in the indecision of what to do. Eddie’s forehead wrinkled from his high brows driving his attention backwards, peering under the car again. The other employees of David’s Auto Repair shuffled around a Studebaker. There was no one inside to help the customer. What a shame.

Eddie lowered his chin in long clockticks, seeking you behind his heavy lashes and heavier gaze. His nose met the side of yours in an unrefined graze, dragging his chapped lips wherever he felt your smile. He kissed you hungry. Needy, desperate to fit the magnitude of his palm at the back of your head, and dirty your mouth with noses mashed together. He wanted you messy, he wanted you catching your balance on the creeper for the same reason his held sigh became your next breath, taking a pinch of your pantyhose over your pussy and twisting it around his fist to demonstrate his annoyance, as if the dull ache of your bottom lip against his teeth wasn’t illustrative enough. The peak of your whine and his approving hum tethered the snap of your tights and the squeeze he left on your thigh. Filthy warmth blanketed the top of your hand. Stifling hot, calluses running rough over your knuckles as he cupped your palm over his hard length, and curled your fingers around himself, kicking his hips up to really stretch the limits of your grip. Together, he guided you in a few teasing pumps along the base, ego growing at the pretty sound hitched in your throat.

“Hey, Ed!” Mr. Moore’s yell burst the bubble you two surrounded yourselves in. “C’mere, ‘nd look at this.”

It wasn’t an emergency. It could wait. There were enough mechanics on duty, they could figure out what they were gawking at, or admiring, or whatever it was they were doing. That was the justification behind your shared look with Eddie, and the tension holding you two apart faded within seconds. If anything it spurred you on. You raked your fingers through his hair, mussing the roots at the crown of his head, covering the side of his body with yours, stroking his cock. The consequences didn’t matter. He increased the pressure and showed you how he liked it when you looped your thumb and index around the edge of his fat tip and pumped him faster—

Ding, ding, ding.

The kiss slowed from the distraction, but you tried to keep going, staying in the moment with Eddie’s praise burning your cheeks. He was eager, he was close. He was whispering, “Feels fucking good when you—yeah—like that,” when you added the twist of your wrist to the end of motion.

“Ed!” Mr. Moore’s voice ruined the moment. “Where’d he… And wasn’t she at her desk a second ago?”

Ding, ding ding!

Your foreheads crashed together in a defeated groan.

Eddie sagged completely limp on the creeper. “Why do you do this to me?” He dropped his arms in a big shrug, kicking his legs out flat, throbbing hard in your palm. You curbed the urge to keep going and dragged your fingers away.

“Hey, you’re the one who started this,” you sniffed, sitting back to fan your face in effort to make yourself presentable while he considered rolling under the car for the next eternity to hide his blazing red cheeks.

“I was a good worker before you came along,” he argued, pointing at you with a nail outlined in grime. He did it with such vigor his shoulders curled off the creeper, sitting up to give you a real good talkin’ to. “I never did this sorta shit with anyone before you showed up. You’re bad for me. You drive me crazy.” Not an ounce of anger dared enter his tone, not even having strength to control his smile from going lopsided, dimpling, nose scrunching in a badly contained laugh. Never would he want you to think he was mad at you, even as a joke. He was soft like that.

Eddie broke first, and that’s all you needed to kiss him against the black Mustang door, thud on the metal deadened by his nervous hand coming up to brush his curls flat.

“You drive me crazy too,” you promised against his lips. “Now, try not to cum your pants when I bend over to get this trash, and have fun explaining to the guys why you can’t stand up for the next few minutes.” You cocked your head, and smacked your tongue in a hard, “‘Kay?”

He glared at your smugness. Glared at your backside, too. Scowled at his grip formed around the swollen length rising so obvious no matter how he fixed his legs, and surrendered to the humiliation of laying back on the creeper, summoning enough dignity to roll himself to the other side where a gaggle of boots scuffed the ground in search for him, and give some excuse that he was very busy fixing something and wouldn’t be available for the foreseeable future.

originally thursday's section in chapter twelve was split into three separate scenes. i was almost finished writing the first two when i took the section in a different direction and mashed all the important elements into the scene in the breakroom which did make the cut. truthfully i had only written to eddie's line of "wanting it so badly" and they would've gotten interrupted at that point (before any touching), but since this isn't exactly canon, i went ahead and had fun and made it a little spicier.

you might also recognize some imagery, lines of prose, or descriptions i salvaged from this piece and put into the final one!

[cgunderwearstories]

The cowboy swayed through the deserted streets of downtown, his boots striking an uneven rhythm on the pavement in the quiet early hours of the morning. His broad-brimmed hat tilted low over his eyes, and his blue jeans clung to his legs—well, mostly. What he hadn’t noticed in his drunken haze was that the entire left side of his jeans had torn away from the upper thigh to the waistband, leaving his underwear exposed in a scandalous, unrestrained display.

The torn fabric revealed his tighty whities, snugly hugging his frame with a level of exposure that seemed almost deliberate. The leg band was stretched taut around his thigh, framing a hefty bulge that leaned prominently to the left, standing out under the streetlight like a beacon. Unfazed, the cowboy continued his swaggering journey, completely unaware of how visible—and vulnerable—he had become.

Up ahead, a group of young men, out for a late-night laugh, spotted him. They exchanged amused glances, nudging each other and smirking as they took in the cowboy’s oblivious stroll, half-dressed and none the wiser.

“Hey, cowboy!” one of them shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Looks like someone got a little too wild tonight, huh?”

The cowboy stopped, blinking as he squinted through the haze. He turned around slowly, wobbling a little on his feet, finally noticing the crowd of men approaching with broad grins plastered across their faces.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” he slurred, pulling himself up straight. He tipped his hat back, a lazy grin spreading over his face as he tried to maintain a look of cool indifference.

“Your pants, buddy,” one of the men said, stepping closer and pointing at the torn side. “Ain’t every day you see someone sportin’ those good ol’ classic briefs like that. Real traditional, huh?”

The cowboy looked down, frowning in confusion as he noticed the gaping tear for the first time. His face flushed as he took in the sight of his tighty whities, unmistakably exposed, with the bold outline of his hefty package leaning leftward, perfectly framed by the torn denim. He fumbled with the torn edge, trying to pull the fabric over his underwear to no avail.

“Aw, hell…” he muttered, his cheeks turning red as he yanked at the loose denim, only to make the tear even wider.

One of the men stifled a laugh, folding his arms as he watched the cowboy’s pitiful attempts to cover up. “Laundry day, huh? That why you’re struttin’ around in those tighty whities?”

The cowboy shot him a glare, but his embarrassed expression betrayed his discomfort. “S’just… just a little tear. Ain’t no big deal.”

The group exchanged glances, their smirks widening. “Oh, it’s a big deal alright,” one of them said, chuckling. He reached out, giving the waistband of the cowboy’s briefs a playful snap. “You got yourself a real situation here, cowboy.”

The cowboy stumbled back, his face flushing as he tried to brush the man’s hand away. “Hands off!” he barked, though his slurred words and shaky stance did little to intimidate them.

“Hey, we’re just helping you out,” another man said, stepping forward with a grin. He grabbed hold of the remaining fabric on the left side of the cowboy’s jeans, yanking it hard. The tear split wider, and the cowboy stumbled as his jeans shredded further, exposing even more of his tighty whities.

“Whoa, hold on now!” he protested, swatting at the men, but his balance betrayed him, and he staggered to the side, clutching his exposed thigh.

“Look at him tryin’ to act all tough!” one of them laughed, reaching out to poke the cowboy’s exposed hip. “Gotta say, you’re makin’ a real statement with these tighty whities, bud.”

Humiliation boiled in the cowboy’s face, and in a moment of drunken bravado, he swung back at the nearest man. His fist missed, but he lunged forward, managing to grab hold of the man’s waistband. With one hard yank, he pantsed the guy, exposing a pair of sky-blue boy briefs covered in barnyard animals. The waistband was a contrasting, neon yellow, adorned with small, red stars—a detail that only added to the childish charm. The group erupted into laughter, the embarrassed man struggling to pull his pants back up while the cowboy stumbled back with a triumphant grin.

“Now who’s wearin’ the embarrassin’ underwear?” he slurred, his victory short-lived as he swayed unsteadily.

The men, now riled up, closed in on him. One of them reached behind him and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, grabbed the waistband of the cowboy’s briefs, yanking them upward in a vicious wedgie. The cowboy yelped, stumbling as the fabric dug into him, pulling tight against his skin.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” one of the men jeered, twisting the waistband even higher until the cowboy’s face was a deep shade of red.

The cowboy squirmed, managing to swat the hand away and turn around, but the men weren’t done yet. Another one of them lunged forward, grabbing the torn edge of his jeans and yanking hard, pulling the fabric downward in one swift motion. With a loud rip, the jeans tore even further, exposing nearly his entire left leg and leaving his tighty whities barely clinging to his hips.

But the worst was yet to come. One of the men grabbed the front of the cowboy’s briefs, giving the material a yank. The cowboy yelped as the white cotton stretched, the fly tearing open and leaving him in a humiliating state. His face burned as he struggled to cover his exposed cock, his once-proud swagger completely destroyed.

The group of men laughed uproariously, slapping each other on the back as they watched the humiliated cowboy fumble with his tattered clothes. He glared at them, his pride in tatters as he clutched the remnants of his jeans and underwear, knowing he’d never live this down.

And with that, the cowboy stumbled off into the night, his dignity left behind on the empty downtown street, the laughter of the men echoing behind him as he disappeared into the shadows.

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: PedantiCat has a question. "Since female lemurs are called Princess, how would Tangle's friends react to her casually revealing that she's royalty out of the blue? And would Tangle call herself & Blaze 'Princess Pals?'" [chuckles]

IAN FLYNN: [cackling] She absolutely would! KYLE: Uh-huh! IAN: [as Blaze] "Why didn't you bring this up before?" [as Tangle] "It never comes up! Like, y'know, the Kingdom of Spiral Hill has like, a holding of all of 30 acres! It's never been a big deal!" KYLE: [chuckling] IAN: Like, her whole title is technically on a piece of paper hidden in a file cabinet in the back of the Mineral Museum somewhere. You go up to Jewel, "Is she just makin' this up? Is this, like, another little fantasy trip of hers?" And she's like, "Oh! I forgot about that, hold on!" Climbs up the filing cabinet, digs through the papers. [as Jewel] "Yeah, here it is! Official and everything. Princess Tangle." KYLE: Wow! [chuckles] IAN: Everybody's kinda staring at her, like, "y-you're a blue blood!" And she's like, "eh, it's still me! ...Although..." KYLE: Oh no. Uh oh. IAN: [continuing as Tangle] "...It would be kinda fun to wear a tiara!" KYLE: [laughing] Oh, she's gonna hang out with Blaze, and then Elise is gonna show up. IAN: [chuckles] Tangle just struttin' into the Sol Palace on a "Diplomatic Mission" in the biggest quotation marks you can manage. KYLE: Tangle's going mad with power! [laughs] IAN: Heh, only because it lets her go even more cool places! KYLE: Yeah, that's true. That's true. [chuckles] It works out, 'cause Whisper is her knight, really, so... IAN: Hm! KYLE: [chuckles]

--- TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It's just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don't like an answer, you don't have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It's all just for fun! ----- This question was requested by @ddrmasterm! Do you want a specific question transcribed and posted? Send the question and the episode date to my ask box! Or if you just want questions about a certain character, send me their name and I will see what I can do!

[urhoneycombwitch]

I love Rockstar Eddie (or any Eddie really) where he thinks he's so cool and tough and hot shit and reader just puts him in his place. Not even like an enemies thing just like... if he likes to bite, reader will bite harder you know?

yeah yeah yeah!!

I tend to favor the “been with him from the start” reader x rockstar!Eddie cuz you know him so well. your dorky goof of a man is glowing under this new celeb spotlight and taking it like a champ but also he’s got so many yes-people in his life now and needs to be humbled by someone who knows him better than anyone

he’s trying on a bunch of different jackets for the concert later in front of his team and everyone’s hyping him up, even this ripped leather metal-studded monstrosity gets a bunch of “oohs” and “ahs”

he stalks over to you in the corner all cocky, struttin’ his stuff in front of a room full of paid staff, thinking you’ll be helpless to his charm in the new duds, waggling his eyebrows at u and asking “whatcha think?”

what he’s not expecting is you leaning in to kiss him chastely, then pulling back to whisper “that’s the ugliest coat I’ve ever seen 🥰”

he blinks and scoffs and does another lap around the room and then catches sight of himself in the mirror and realizes you’re right. who the fuck uses rhinestones as buttons.

he shoots you finger guns from across the room after ripping the offending material off his shoulders. *ken voice* “right as always 😎”

[jt1674]

[dudewhoabides]

Cool Struttin' (Remastered)

[abejamariposa]

Cantaloop Island: Funky Soul Jazz on Blue Note

Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia) (1993) - Us3 Cantaloupe Island (1964) - Herbie Hancock Señor Blues (1956) - Horace Silver Quintet The Sidewinder (1964) - Lee Morgan The Turnaround (1965) - Hank Mobley Blind Man, Blind Man (1963) - Herbie Hancock Hi-Heel Sneakers (1966) - Blue Mitchell Quintet Soul Woman (1966) - Big John Patton Brown Sugar (1964) - Freddie Roach Preach Brother (1962) - Fred Jackson Chitlins Con Carne (1963) - Kenny Burrell Judo Mambo (1956) - Jimmy Smith Mustang (1967) - Donald Byrd Chili Peppers (1968) - Duke Pearson Recado Bossa Nova (1966) - Hank Mobley Blue Bossa (1963) - Joe Henderson

Different Rhythms, Different People (1993) - Us3 Quantrale (1960) - Curtis Fuller Song For My Father (1965) - Horace Silver Quintet Crisis (1962) - Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers Adam’s Apple (1967) - Wayne Shorter One Mint Julep (1960) - Freddie Hubbard True Blue (1960) - Tina Brooks Congalegre (1961) - Horace Parlan Blues Walk (1958) - Lou Donaldson Cool Struttin’ (1958) - Sonny Clark Moanin’ (1958) - Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers Dat Dere (1960) - Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers Sweet Honey Bee (1969) - Lee Morgan Watermelon Man (1962) - Herbie Hancock Sookie Sookie (1970) - Grant Green Tukka Yoot's Riddim (1993) - Us3

Happy 60th anniversary of the release of “Cantaloupe Island” and “The Sidewinder”!

Compiled by Abeja Mariposa

[givingtorebent]

This was sent many months ago. To at the time a friendly acquaintance that was socially situated just perfectly [close enough to be weird to, far enough away to not expect the terrifying rotting seas of silly] and her being the recipient would [bonus points] give my good friend [also her neighbor] anxiety about me anonymoosly delivering a cow letter. Said friend did not know the contents of the letter. Was left to stew for a month before they found it in themselves to tell their childhood friend that he knew who sent them the cow letter. I had not seen her in that period of time.

The letter was posted in a very cool custom made note (admittedly it had weird vibes - nice thick green paper with sharpie and a custom cow post stamp that I cut out - pictured below.)

The return address was something like "The Farm"

My first real letter. I learned to start scanning everything afterwards.

She was not terrified (at least that's what she has told me - the culprit.)

I was under the impression that the anonymity would be fairly weak, as just a couple months prior I brought the below *custom* cow card to a white elephant where I had also brought 2 cool glass cow figurines I got used cheap. I thought I would be steeped in cow memories. Turns out the human mind is willing to part with vital information that my bits at times call on. Curses.

Cow memes!!!! I'm mostly moved away from stock photos for reasons. But making these memes is like mainlining some drug that lets you hug a God made of kindness and the non-sharp parts of kittens.

She Struttin! is something I was desperate to share with the world. It's honestly a miracle you survived this long without She Struttin!

Life can get you down. The existential crisis of it all. Anyways. I'm a cow. Has a voice note. I sing the line. It makes me laugh. I showed the voice note to the recipient when we were over drinking that good good alcohol on the America day. Laughter was had.

All in all it went pretty well for my first run. The cow memes are allegedly on a fridge. The boyfriend isn't scared I'm going to kill his girlfriend.

A ringing success!!!

I'm so mmmmmmmfyuuuuuuu

I'll excuse myself.

Have a nice thing going on?

Bye!!!!

Ben

[aachtt]

That feeling Like sun is shining hair is washed coffee in my hand Pop muzik in my ears struttin to the office building maneuvering past the tourist kidz… so cool!

[thelambliesdown1974]

Some cool modern disco-esque Devo type groups I’ve been into:

If anyone has anymore 70s and 80s sounding current bands let me know I’m on the hunt