In review: elvis costello.

I love him. I know, I know, he's 
not the best guy. I don't 
know that. 

Only his tuneful acid panache, 
which even his detractions admit 
is smashing, world-crushy - lest 
they fall in reaped rows, felled 
by their own inapt critical 

hackumen, 
which, 
isn't 
a word, yet

odd. 

Anyway, from what I know 
he is SO SOUR. Some say bitter! 
Forget it, has your tongue no ears? 
SO SOUR it squirts aridity itself 
by both eyes glaring! 

Anybody can do that, I say ew 
or ooh to ick or awe and merely 
quit dreading the encounter. If 

I to I contact hurts, you look too 
hard, chap. Check your ass first 
quick before it explodes! That guy 

bit of a dick obviously, takes it out 
on the world - overcompensating? 

Ah, you wish projectionist. Just sit 
quietly and change the reel, 

already

WAIT. DID HE JUST DIE?

I hope not. I didn't write this for 
that! I don't throw wakes to get
requiems. Hell, I don't even 

know the guy. He did me 
a favor 

maybe!