It’s ta the point where my copy of RAW POWER is b’ginning to smell like raw snapper. Used it so many times, ya know. And each time, I’d look up after it wuz over, and the big spirit of L.Bangs in the sky would nod his approval. Gosh, rock and roll is the life, ya know.
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MAIL Dept., CREEM Magazine P.O. Box P-1064, Birmingham, MI 48012
DEAR CREEM
It’s ta the point where my copy of RAW POWER is b’ginning to smell like raw snapper. Used it so many times, ya know. And each time, I’d look up after it wuz over, and the big spirit of L.Bangs in the sky would nod his approval. Gosh, rock and roll is the life, ya know. I’ve been saying it ever since a determinately decadent, femme fatale sent me a glittered DeKalb flying corn cob for X-Mas. After the absurdity absorbed like tannic acid into my left arm, she came and visited. We listened to Iggy a lot, finished several bottles of Pink Chablis, laughed evilly, and read CREEM while waiting for the other to get up. We’d laugh with Lester. We’d' laugh with Meltzer. We’d laugh at the poor heartbroken wimpoids that wrote care of the Mail page. And we laughed and drank and listened to Iggy a lot, and thought, wow, isn’t it great being sensitive punks wid a heart of grits.
Sleaze on,
BJACF 1
Big Jas. Alley Cat Fuller
Hitzville, U.S.A.
MAHAVE IT YOUR WAY