Kate Bush is absolute fucking boner party.
I know it lowers my journalistic credibility when I use terms like "boner party," but I just don't know any phrasing that would more accurately describe Kate's affect on the male condition. Just look at her up there, sneering her marvelously oddball story into the microphone like that shit actually happened, two random braids in her hair, and dressed as if she could've just rolled out of bed.
She is like the unreasonably magnificent English teacher you wished for in high school, who got you to read Beowulf in the original middle english in exchange for the possiblity of a quick smile, or a slightly less quick bone while your cousin drove you guys around in her car (I'm just saying guys, that shit happens in our brave new America, except with Kate, that 14-year-old wuss wouldn't have said shit).
And good God, if you've ever wondered what kind of swag you might need to get Pete Townsend and Phil Collins to just be two dudes in your back-up band, the answer is that you need Kate Bush swag, which you simply don't got.
Oh Kate, you crazy, perfect, bonerific thing.
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