Sebastian Cabot, actor, Bob Dylan, poet

Look at the Mona Lisa smile on that fat fuck's face. That is the face of a man who knows he is about to take some money from some hippies.


So here's what happened. I have Fridays off this summer and a million fucking records to work my way through. Seriously, I can't imagine a world in which I finish this pile by the end of the year but I gotta try because I just found out there are about 200 more records mouldering away in my dad's garage and I WILL convince my stepmother she oughta give them to me. I WILL. I may not convince Amy it's a good idea to take them into our apartment, but... I'll give it the old college try. I digress.

So I have Fridays off. This last Friday, my dad came in from Jersey to pick up me and James and Amy so we could come hang at their place for the weekend. So my dad was over and I was working my way through the pile because that's what I do on Friday. I was trying to play all the Beatles and getting tired of them, so I took a break from it. I played Mountain by Leslie West. Then at my dad's urging, I gave...

I can barely type the words and I'm still a little pissed off he punked me like that. So at my dad's urging I played Sebastian fucking Cabot's dramatic recitation of Bob Dylan. It was...

Alright, look, I'll give it to you straight. There are hipsters out there who will write rave reviews of this piece of shit. They will enthusiastically defend this hollow soul-sucking romp over, across, and through anything that ever mattered about Bob Dylan. These are the same assholes who drink PBR ironically instead of because it's cheaper than bottled water, the WAY GOD INTENDED PBR TO BE DRANK... drunk... dranken...

Anyway, here's the deal. Wait a sec. I need vodka.

Okay I'm back. So here's the deal. You may be surprised by this, given the way I've been building it up, but I thought this was really quite bad. I don't feel as if I can do it justice. You know that campy Shatner rendition of Rocket Man? Ok, take that, and dial it up to go-fuck-yourself. This is infinitely worse. There is... I just...

Ok. Look. The world is a lesser place for me now that I have listened to this. I would not be surprised if, in a week, Sebastian Cabot came crawling out of my bathroom mirror, not to kill me, that release would be too sweet, no, crawling out of my bathroom mirror to deliver a dramatic rendition of Use Your Illusions I and II to me in his creepy gravelly grampa voice because fuck everything awesome and good in the world. Sebastian Cabot was born to shit all over it.

Or you know, maybe not. Give it a whirl. What's the worst that could happen, other than never having another pleasant dream in your life which, if you listen to this, is just how sleep is gonna work for you going forward. But other than that, what could possibly go wrong? Give 'er a spin. See what happens.

[link]