IS ARCHIVE
What follows is a further attempt at normalcy, as dictated during a particularly furious cannon battle between the good lady Sturmkrieg and a well-laden FFA craft, which, when wounded, chose to shower Our Lady of the Storm with a considerable volume of grapeshot. Our captain was, noteably, not disturbed in the least by the volleys.
Frank Sinatra was a singer! He sang many songs, many of which were only good because Dean Martin was there too! Dean Martin was a clever alcoholic who made jokes about it, and thusly hurt both Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Juniour through words! There were two other guys as well, but Frank Sinatra was important because he got laid and had a daughter!
This daughter was none other than Nancy Sinatra!
You may very well remember the young Miss Sinatra for recording a particularly clever and delicious cover of These Boots. It has become an anthem for young women and lesbians everywhere, due to the iconographic lyrical depictions of having a woman step on a man and potentially a man’s gonads as well, said gonads being expressed in the male of the human species as testicles. And gosh! it hurts when something crushes a male’s testicles.
What I would like to address is the simple fact that Nancy Sinatra, despite all emasculating and/or “ball breaking” tendacies was a sex goddes to belong to. It would have given many quality young soliders in her time and yours and mine a great satisfaction to be sacrificed before an idol bearing her likeness. This isn’t a twenty seven virgins situation – this is a Nancy fucking Sinatra equation!
I can therefore elucidate from this past behaviour that Nancy was, in fact, a sex goddess. She was, perhaps, the proverbial swanness seducing the humanoid. It would not be going very far past this understanding to suggest a statue or two be erected in a hall of monument for her, and that laurels and paisley wreaths be brought before her likeness to gain favour in all things bouncey-bouncey.
Herein lies my point, somewhere. What the fuck, Cap? What the fuck with this shit, Cussy? I’ll tell you what the fuck. I’m suggesting a return to all things sexy. I’m suggesting a fucking revival of the right to fuck.
I am suggesting you – you lovely womens out there – I’m suggesting you try out Nancy’s tried-and-true brilliance for yourselves. I’ve been known to say, “Miniskirts and go-go boots – the trouble today is there are no Nancy Sinatras!” I was right when I was known to be right about saying that. And things.
Here’s my suggestions, womens. Get a lovely pair of go-go boots. You don’t have to call them go-go boots, it’s a bit pants name, but just get knee high or almost knee high boots with proper heels. You can also wear miniskirts – wear some fucking miniskirts. You have the legs for it – fucking show that shit off. Beehives? Yes, they’re sexy. It’s time you took back your sexuality. It’s time you used yourself like a fucking weapon. You deserve it. You worked hard for that body; make it work for you.
It’s time to make it work for you.
Remember, ladies: Nancy Sinatra. And don’t forget to email me your digits, lovely.
