My heart is filled with sorrow

At one point in the 80's there was this soulful sound that came out of my crappy car speakers that  paired quite nicely with making out while drunk on cheap booze with strange dudes.  His name was Michael Bolton.  He could sing with sexy voice.  Your panties would almost fly off. Almost.  But then you would envision him and they would staple themselves to your body like your socks and force you to get home way before curfew.

Now all these years later my soul weeps, for Michael Bolton. 

If there is any justice in this universe tonight Michele Bolton will go home, go to bed, and wake up with amnesia. The world will just pretend it never happened. We will just all be polite and not mention it. He will forget that he was ever absolutely humiliated on Dancing with the stars.

He will forget that he crawled out of a dog house, that he chewed on a dog bone, that he made Frankenstein look like a smooth operator.


This man that crooned such soulful panty flinging tunes, has less mojo than a stick man drawn from poo.  Poor Michael. I hope the universe lets you have amnesia and if there is any justice you will also wake up with some more hair.
Sorry man.

xo
Peach Out