Friends,
In these terror-rattled times, few of us truly prove equal to the task of eternal vigilance from all threats to our security, foreign, domestic, and potentially exaggerated. Yet such vigilance against terror in all its many guises must always be our goal. That is why I am writing this message to warn you against an attack from a most unexpected quarter: Don Henley.
Today, while getting 9 miles per gallon in my 1999 Chevy Silverado, I turned the radio on and heard Don Henley whine, “my love for you will still be strong / after the boys of summer have gone.” Needless to say, here in mid August, with summer winding down and the school year a-dawning, I interpreted his words as a threat. My theory was validated when Henley, in the very same song, admitted to hearing voices in his head, voices triggered by his spotting a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac. Many people have understood the message of those voices—“don’t look back / you can never look back”—as a rueful condemnation of those who have abandoned the values of the 1960s. This theory is idiotic. Why? Because it’s Don Henley singing. Ask yourself: Does that message make any sense spilling from the lips of Don Henley? The theory is a smokescreen and those who propagate it are either fools or disingenuous, objectively pro-Henley ministers of disinformation.
I see two options. Best case scenario, the man is a paranoid schizophrenic. Worst case, he is a deep cover terrorist sleeper agent—for Al-Qaeda, the Michigan Militia, the Klan, I don’t know—whose conditioning is activated by certain triggers, such as deadhead stickers. Clearly, “don’t look back / you can never look back” is an ego-cleansing mantra meant to salve the conscience of someone who has just committed unspeakably vile and despicable acts, acts which would fracture the psyche of any person were he allowed to remember them.
My intent here is not to stoke the embers of fear already glowing so brightly in your breasts, but, rather, to prepare you in case you find yourself—or, God forbid, your family—at the mercy of killing machine Don Henley, who may be acting at his paymasters’ behest or who may have gone rogue. How can you prevent Don Henley from proving that his “love [read: homicidal rage] for you will still be strong”? Simple: by ensuring that the boys of summer never leave.
Ever.
Extreme measures? Perhaps. But we live in extreme times. And honestly, will anyone truly miss most of the boys of summer back in their hometowns? Many of them are layabouts and slackers who contribute nothing to society beyond, I must admit, a certain lithe, sun-kissed aesthetic appeal. I would argue that any one—nay, any dozen—is a small price to pay for my family’s security. No idler, I have put my faith into action. It’s true that I got some suspicious looks at Sam’s Club when I asked if they sold chloroform in bulk quantities, but I might never have found it otherwise. And in any case, their discount CD bins lead me to believe that Don Henley partisans have already infiltrated even such a bastion of freedom as Sam’s. While our home has no floorboards to speak of, and so storing the boys of summer presented something of a challenge, I found that our attic, after some re-organization, proved more than sufficient. True, the attic is not insulated and gets quite toasty in Louisiana’s hot August sun, but all to the better, I say: the stench of putrefying boys of summer carcass that has already begun to permeate our house will ensure that Don Henley always keeps a safe distance. Indeed, I’ve noticed that a few of our neighbors have begun to remark upon the odor. No doubt they’re wholly ignorant of the identity of their mysterious benefactor. I’m not in this for glory or fame.
I grant that in my zeal, I may have hoarded too many specimens of the boys of summer, or, as I’ve taken to calling them, “henleybane.” I’m not stingy, though. If you’ll contact me at the address listed in the sidebar, I’d be glad to make a boys of summer mojo of any size for you. Most of them wore chains or necklaces of some sort, so I’ve crafted a set of fetching neckwear for the whole family. I don’t need to tell you that Don Henley hasn’t been sighted anywhere near my family in weeks.
A word of caution to you bleeding hearts who might feel tempted to shelter or hide Don Henley: I urge you to remember, if you’re not for murdering teenage boys and storing them in your attic, then you’re with Don Henley. That is all.
With vigilance,
PF
Oh man. And I thought EYE was drunk tonite.
I hate Don Henley so much.
Two necessary admissions:
1. I once got really high from a batch of magic brownies, which we ate while driving to a Grateful Dead show . . . in a Cadillac . . . with a Dead Head sticker on it . . . and, yes, we did sing that line from “The Boys of Summer” during the drive . . . more than once.
2. I once paid real money to see a Don Henley concert. In my defense, I only went for the opening act . . . Edie Brickell.
When I think back on the trauma that was my freshamn year in college, I wonder how much less awful it would have been if my assigned roommate didn’t constantly play his “Eagles – Greatest Hits” cassette.
Thanks for this important reminder.
Indeed, this is perhaps the most important reminder we will receive all day. That weird “don’t look back” line has long troubled me as some kind of bad/evil heavy-handed Dylan.
I now understand it: Don Henley=a morphing zombie stealing the lyrics and bodies of our beloved songwriters.
You’ve got me all paranoid now. I think I need me one of them attic boys.
I do recall enjoying the sun-kissed litheness of the youths in the video for this song. Which should not be mistaken for an endorsement of the song proper—I hate Henley as much as any other Henley-fearing Amerrrrrcan.
Que viva Joe Walsh!
Your logic has worked for the city of London for hundreds of years, professor. When the ravens leave the Tower of London, local legend has it, the city will fall. A timely wing clipping insures that this won’t happen, though.
If murder proves too distasteful for the masses, perhaps a good “hobbling” of the boys of summer may serve the same basic purpose.
Regulator will surely enjoy this line of inquiry. He LOVES all things Eagle.
Prof, you’ve gone above and beyond. Perhaps you should now be called
“Professor Freedom”.
How well does henleybane keep during shipment? I’d hate for them to lose their mojo during transit.
Otherwise, I’ll have to rely on the newly armed and previously dangerous Lindsay Lohan, once she’s done entertaining the troops.
Don’t get this anti-Henley and anti-Eagles thing. I love music and people love talking music with me…ranging from country to hard rock to rap to good blues. When the Eagles and/or henley are brought up, the rock ‘snobs’ (how oxymoronic is that?) tend to quickly dismiss them in some undefinable ignorant way.
The Eagles and then Henley were artists who took a little of everything, put some good lyrics and musicianship to it and sold a ton of records. What’s the problem, exactly? Like most bands, they had some stinkers, like most of the Long Run album and a good part of the Inside Job album….and Glenn Frey’s entire solo career basically.
I think a lot of this is how much the radio played them. EVERYBODY liked the Eagles and almost everybody like Henley. So they were inescapable and inevitably overplayed. You can’t go shopping for groceries without hearing some version of Desperado. But that’s not the band’s fault.
Listen to the stuff that hasn’t been played repeatedly. Listen to “Little Tin God”. “Driving with your eyes closed”. “A Month of Sundays”.
It’s good stuff. Revolutionary? No. packaged for the masses? A bit. So what? Does everything have to be difficult to access? What American bands are better? Hell, how many UK bands are better? You gonna place the friggin’ Doors ahead of the Eagles? Beach Boys, maybe. Very few though.
Do you ACTUALLY want me to answer the question/s: “What bands are better than the Eagles?” I mean, I’m hoping that’s rhetorical, tho’ the way you’ve offered a couple of examples suggests otherwise.
So how much time do you have; is there a limit on the amount of data that can be posted here; and do you want me to start with the bands that are a little better or roughly as good as the Eagles, like Fleetwood Mac, or, say, the Bangles; or start with bands that are good, work backwards thru the ones that are worth listening to, backwards thru the ones that are barely worth listening to, backwards thru the ones that aren’t worth listening to, backwards thru the ones that suck in a kind of pretension-less way, and finally back to the ones that are really bad and really pretentious but are still a little better than the Eagles?
Things that aren’t fault of The Eagles: grocery store muzak playlists.
Things that are the fault of the Eagles: writing a piece of mawkish, sentimental treacle like “Desperado” that’s perfect for grocery store muzak.
“Driving with Your Eyes Closed” might be less annoying for being played less often, but it’s not a good song. I know it better than I care to admit.
wow when he says a voice in =side his head he’s talking about his conscience