OFFICIAL POSITION: Apples to Apples? The fuck *are* you? A bored Cleveland Park housewife who's already burned the fondue and is trying to get "the boys" to stop talking about football and the cover of the latest Maxim that's been placed strategically and passive-aggressively on the top of the toilet tank next to your homeopathic beeswax candle from the Dupont farmer's market?
SOM: Like High Times for people who go antiquing and listen to metal on expensive headphones and who should probably get a van and tour the US stopping at moody abandoned carnivals and taking pictures with the cameras they bought themselves when they got their first big paycheck. They should bring sepia back and it would be just like Brautigan, but with less sugar and more soy lattes and they could get loaded and blog about it and maybe start pairing off, like a Fleetwood Mac that could stay together. Someone could learn how to use fruity looks and someone would learn how to make butter and work odd jobs and it would never have to end, the summer could go on forever, if they would ever admit that they loved one another.
What Summer of Megadeth is saying is that one day you kids will grow up and put down the Malick and pick up the Godard. That's all we're saying. It will take time, but it will come. Don't be too discouraged.
You know, Ossie once asked Summer of Megadeth, "Summer of Megadeth, how do you decide what goes on Summer of Megadeth and what goes on [REDACTED]?" Well now the question is, how do we decide what goes on Summer of Megadeth and what goes on Summer of Megadeth!