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The year was 1973. Nixon ordered a halt to the bombing in Vietnam.
“The Sting” won Best Picture at the Oscars. Pablo Piscasso died and MRI technology was born. The Sydney Opera house was opened and Secretariat won the Kentucky Derby.
The radio hummed with the soothing voice of Roberta Flack singing “Killing Me Softly,” a saccharine-sweet melody about a guitar player whose words uncomfortably harmonized with the life of the listener. My friend Carl loved that song and he would sing along with it.
“Strumming my face with his fingers – singing my life with his words ...” Uh, strumming my face?
No, no, no, I told him! It’s “strumming my FATE.” Now, it’s not odd that my friend misheard the words. Not understanding the lyrics is typical for listeners of rock music ... but strumming my FACE?
I never did understand the visuals of that one. And let’s get another thing cleared up once and for all ... the Beatles did not sing, “Something in the way she moos, attracts me like no other mother.”
Well, at least I don’t think they did.
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