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Suffice to say, I have a wide variety of music on my phone. Okay, maybe it’s not that wide but it does produce a muffin top when wearing skinny jeans.
By the way. I don’t really understand why members of the male gender wear those things.
So anyway, there is a collection of country artists on he TharpSter 4S, even though I generally prefer to bang my head.
One of those songs is “We Shall Be Free” by Garth Brooks. It’s loaded up with a bunch of lyrics about getting along and curing that which ails us. Once all of this is taken care of, we shall be free.
Isn’t that nice?
Garth has pretty much set the bar which will define when we shall be free.
Allow me to adjust that bar.
When I can order a hamburger anywhere I want (not just Fuddruckers) and be asked how I want it cooked, I shall be free.
When I can tell the grill cook at work to stop cooking the red out of my burger without getting a stupid look, I shall be free.
When the Texas Man Law (the redder the better) trumps some stupid ass health regulation that burgers have to be cooked to the point of ruination, I shall be free.
Now redo my burger and get it off the grill when I tell you to.
