Veritas vincit – Truth conquers

I thought I should qualify my previous angst-ridden blog post with this one, which should be less so. Perhaps it could even be contradictory, who knows? Future me will know. Hi future me! How’s it going? Why haven’t you turned Las Vegas off yet? That show suxors!

The Killers come from Las Vegas. I always thought their music had a cowboyish quality to it. Not like those old Western movies, but more like Deadwood. The gritty, real, gold-panning, gun-slinging, blood-letting west.

Then I think perhaps that’s more Kings of Leon. Those boys suddenly became all good-lookin’. When did that happen? I saw one of their film clips the other day. They really have metamorphosed into hot rock n’ roll dudes. The lead singer’s soulful, mournful, raspy voice seems somehow out of place coming from that mouth with the head with the deliberately tousled hair.

Speaking of metamorphosing, I’m still haunted by that book. The metamorphosis, that is. Not the animorphs, or the mighty morphin’ power rangers. *cough* rip off! *cough*. Though it’s hardly reasonable for me to have nostalgia for a tv show that I barely remember, I still feel the urge to defend Voltron from all the half-assed successors that kids have been fed over the last fifteen years.

I’m getting tired. I mean, I already was tired to begin with. Now I’m exhausted. Anyone have anything to add? No? Ok, cool.