The Hotelier Make Me Believe There’s a God Sometime

There’s something that feels inherently wrong about strongly getting into a new musical artist at my age.

I’m not going to go into details, but I’m older (and fatter) than Ronaldo was when he was embarrassingly decrepit and past his prime at World Cup 2006- which was once my very barometer of shameful over-maturity- but younger than Diamond Dallas Page was when he first started wrestling, so that dream isn’t quite dead yet.

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Continue reading “The Hotelier Make Me Believe There’s a God Sometime”