Christopher Walken Reviews the Songs in his iPod

On my way into work today the. Gods inside of my iPod treated me, to a mix of TUNES that made my soul. Swell up. Like a fluffy mush puff. I.

Always shuffle through my entire catalogue of 3,300 songs, on random. Random like a blind racecar driver driving his racecar. Blindly. Through Rock and Roll City. Let the FATES control the world inside this sleek little white box. This uncomfortable lump of metal, which I have carried around up my ass, for the past three and a half years.

It beats the transistor radio. iPod. No waves. Just, MUSIC. Odd.

"White Rabbit", by Jefferson, Airplane 13 times in a row, on my way to work today. Love that song. It must take up like 99 percent of my I. TUNES. I must have, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson, Airplane I DON'T KNOW at least 3,257 TIMES on my, iPod.

I don't believe in. REPEAT.

I must confess to you. A small part of me was hoping to hear one of the twelve songs, all Chipmunks' Christmas carols, that I have on my iPod other than "White Rabbit". No such luck. The fates did not deign to free those delicious little falsettos.

I stopped a, man. On the street. Asked the fuck where the Chipmunks were. All he had were EXCUSES. I could tell he, was lying. Signs -- a guy's got seventeen of 'em.

Oh well. Live to fight another day. Alvin. Simon. Theodore. CHIPMUNKS. Right.

SO, what I got was Jefferson Airplane and by the time I arrived at the bottling plant I was so. JAZZED. I couldn't stop dancing. With everyone that I saw.

There was this one bottler. Roy. Asked me why my EAR PHONE was coming up through the back, back of my pants. Real heroic cocksucker. I tried to bite his hand off at the wrist.

It wasn't until the park ranger pulled me off of him that I realized it wasn't Roy I was biting. It was a sycamore tree. And that I wasn't even at a bottling plant at all. I was in the middle of Yellowstone National, PARK. All dressed up like sasquatch and scaring tourists. Busey, Hopper and that old bull dyke who played the mobster in Goonies. I think she's dead.

GOONIES. Ha. Right.

More next time. In which I, will hopefully, hear from everyone's favorite TRIO of quadrapeds. If not, more "WHITE Rabbit". Talk soon.