to clarify once again, i aint got nothing against Carole King's talent or output. there's not a song on her runaway hit album which i find truly objectionable.
twas Tapestry's deification by distaff dormitory denizens which curdled my id. i never applied to college, didnt attend and simply wasnt the type the average co-ed would consider the aesthetic choice as nominee for a crisp, fall afternoon dalliance. so the fact that i received numerous invitations for same was a source of essential triumph for your humble servant.
twasnt the sex, per se. the same reason i would receive these invitations - that i was in the creative entourage of a groundbreaking & resonant female musical artist - was the same reason i'd likely already had my fill of frantic, matriculating hoochies the night before. these collegial assignations were the ultimate validation for any young man - being pursued by rich, beautiful young women light years out of my league in an age when a tryst was still both a celebration of sexual discovery and a tacit marriage audition. even bliss does not hiss like this!!!
then *THUD* would her vinyl Holy of Holies fall upon the turntable so that i could drink in the fullness of realization that the Earth moved under her feet, too. every capillary below my neck would soften as those above my collar seized into constriction. a turpidine shudder would befall me with the deadly import of a turbine trip in a nuclear facility as Miss King's plaintive drone would laminate my libido. having been raised well, i would keep what always felt like my last smile upon my faithless gob throughout before the excuse to her that most bucks dread to hear from them.
time............after time............after time............after time...........after time. doubtless will i venture that few have earned the ardor of their contempt for a work of art so well. nufced