it was ‘sposed to be Motown Night, so the news release said, ‘cause that deejay played no sixties soul, no marvin and tammy, no lady diana, not even one single all star twinkled for jr. walker. . . Instead, the walls are splatter'd with a thunderous storm of unartistic, lyrical misogyny from the narrow-minded prison scope of song butchers who knew nothing of the english language, content to glorify the belittling of women to a class far lower than dogs, the songs of much more civil times now foreign in this place where dirty decibles --like misguided missles-- rained down a bevy of “b” words, as long as they excluded “breathtaking, brainy, and beautiful,” moreso "bitches, breasts, and big ol' butts" and the spinners of vain speech didn’t dare to miss a beat in this unwashed zone of fallen decendants whose parents once worshipped Regencies of Disco Soul. © 2004 by cynth'ya lewis reed