NINETEEN SEVENTY

If you ever get invited to a seventies party, cut and run. No. Run. To hell with the cut part.

In an earlier post I described the recipe for pure trouble. This was a seventies party devised by members of the same tribe as before. Given some and taken others. I'll describe the scene back then, in the seventies.

It's 1973:

That's Joe Cool in the top pic. One Nine Seven Zero youth defined. Laid back. Big, big ass matching bottoms. Perfect hair with stylish accoutrements. Joe is peaking on the latest mix of cocaine and whatever form of heat was handed to him last. He's feeling right and tops and chicks have been on him all night. All of the other dudes, gay and straight, are staring.

The atmosphere and the mirrorball are making him look all the better at the party and soon, as shown in the second pic, he decides to show off some moves. He's got plenty of hot ones, this Joe; for sure. For sure. He can point. He can sweat. He does IT ALL!

At just the right moment on the tune the best flamingo in the party joins him. The looks in the crowd tell her that he's got all the other boys beat and she matches him, hip for hip. They move, they groove and swing and duck. The dance crowd goes crazy and everyone joins in.

Later, more guests arrive with groovy brownies and more cocaine and food and Joe, with the aid of this new girl, digs in. Everyone parties and dances, chills and spills and dances some more...

In the morning, after that wild party Joe wakes up with a hangover and realizes that something has happened.

He realizes that it's nineteen eighty five. Saturday morning in June? What the hell? Are those my kids? What's with the short hair! OH MY GOD! They're not being DRAFTED are they?! Does the army really pin their jeans at the bottom like that! Son! What are in all of those pockets?! To his dismay, his mouth tastes like the haispray he uses and DAMN!... with the BeeGees still pound, pound, pounding in his brain, feels as though he's being nuetered with rubber bands!

Poor Cool Joe decides to go back to bed to try and sleep it off.

The real Joe in the pic went home early, before he tripped on those gorgeous trousers.