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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Friday, June 3   >>

FRANKLY, NO, I DON'T

Society's standards for "love" must have been really tame in the '60s .

Berry Gordy Jr.'s song Do You Love Me? is a perfect example of why America's youth had such a naive (forgive the incorrect usage of the letter I in that word, you word buttholes) look at a feeling that cannot be captured through... dance.

Do you love me?
(I can really move)
Do you love me?
(I'm in the groove)
Ah, Do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now that I can dance,
(Dance)

If this were in any way true, nerds would be running to a taping of Dance 360 in robot style droves.

So cheap.

Then again, we're talking about the same youth who had thought that covering one's head under a desk would dodge a nuclear blast.