You Might Want To Lock Your Doors, Or At Least Put In Some Earplugs

Did you hear that? That was me dropping to my knees, shaking my fists at the sky and wailing, "WHY? Not a reunion!" Don't get me wrong, I am a child of the eighties. I was young in the eighties. I had phenomenally big hair and potential in the eighties. The eighties shaped the person I eventually ended up being and that person was not and is not a fan of Boy George and Culture Club.

Maybe it's me, but I just can't wrap my little pea brain around this horrifying news that came to me via an email newsletter linking to where Boy George was quoted as saying, "Last time we re-formed, there was a point to it, we'll see. It's all about my mood at the time"

By his mood does he mean "Hey, I am in the mood to regurgitate more bad music today, but tomorrow? I might be in the mood to imprison some young male hooker." To George's defense, the "escort" had allegedly hacked into Boy George's computer to steal his "intellectual" *snort* properties (actually Boy George thought he lifted pictures, I just like the way intellectual properties sounds). In response, Boy George did what any rational, cognitive adult would do: after stating, "now you're going to get what you deserve," Boy George tried to attack him with whips and sex toys because there is nothing a male escort hates more than the sight of a giant butt plug. Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry? "Why yes I do, Male Hooker, which is why I am also going to beat you with a metal chain."

However, this is all besides the point. Why would anyone want a reunion of such crappy music? For all of you Culture Club fans, I am sorry that you have less than zero taste in music but that is your very personal problem and not mine. I am happy for you that you want to hear Boy George sing about karma and tumbling and what ever, but I for one would be over the moon giddy if I never hear the words karma, karma, karma, karma, karma out of his pie hole ever again.

And now that that song is going through my head I am going to stab my eardrums out with an ice pick.

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