Funk

No, that’s not a misspelling. No, it’s not a typo. That is indeed an “n” and not a “c”.
One of the planets is in retrograde or metrograde or gatorade or something, so I hear, or just about to come out of it, whatever it is. The planets are all lined up or not lined up or the moon is out of whack or in the seventh house and the sun will come out tomorrow or something. (Don’t wait up for me to make a comment about “Uranus”. I will not go there.) (wink to Camera 2) Whatever, whoever, whyever, I’m in a funk, freaks.
I need a jumpstart. I need some jumper cables, to hook myself up to the nearest “hot rod” (button it, boys, I’m not talking about you) for a much-needed kick. ‘Cause (yes, I just wrote “’cause”) (it’s my attempt to appear easy breezy Cover Girl) my current coma just isn’t cutting it.
Fuck this funk! I’m gonna go rumble with a seersucker-suited conventioneer! (This is about as political as I get, kids. No Bushwacking for me.)