Reggie Lott's Profile

You may or may not have heard of a band called Paramore. Ordinarily, the way I listen to music wouldn't put me in range of this sort of thing. I'm being purposefully vague because I don't even know what this sort of thing is called now. It may be a word that ends in "core."

They have a song called "crushcrushcrush" that I honestly hate. In recent years I've allowed popular music to set up dingy hovels in the periphery of my affection - but this song is an act of monstrous evil, a blood ritual to awaken some mercifully forgotten demon prince. The lyrics are beyond incoherent, a dreadlock of oily nonsense that is either the result of schizophrenia, multiple authorship, or collated from multiple failed songs and compressed into some tar lozenge of epic failure.

Lord knows what pharmaceutical phalanx keeps this woman's shrieking psychic legions bridled. If the two of you should meet and hit it off - perhaps at an extreme sporting event - I wouldn't consider her a long term proposition unless your health plan has a very reasonable co-pay.