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Nlnln;;nj;n;kn;nnj nkj.kkkliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii?



I’m glad that I happened to be sitting in front of the computer when this question came in. The fact of the matter is, anyone who has ever taken LSD, gotten so drunk they couldn’t walk or hit their head really, really hard has asked this same question. You, brave writer of the unknown language of the fucked, had the balls to write it down and I applaud you.

The only problem is that I’m not tripping, I don’t drink and I avoid banging my head on anything unless the only other option is to watch Glee. This leaves me in a little bit of a bind because I want to help you, but you haven’t helped me help you. I’m going to have to read between the line to find out what you really want to know.

“Why does Steve Miller think that flying like an eagle to the sea will answer any problems other than the eagle’s immediate hunger needs?”.

While this is a great question, one that a lot of people would like to know the answer to, it’s not really advice as much as an explanation of art, which is not my forte. I’m not sure Steve Miller himself, the master of such gems like “time keeps on slipping into the future” and “Lovey dovey, lovey dovey, lovey dovey all the time” could articulate what he meant by this, and neither can I.

What possible explanation could he give, anyway? It would probably be like those last few episodes of Lost where they tried to explain everything like a two year old making up a story on the spot. There really isn’t anything you can say about an eagle flying to the sea to tie it to putting shoes on some kid’s feet without sounding like a complete asshole.

As an aside, I don’t think two year old kids sound like assholes when they are making stories up. They just sound stupid. Kids really can’t be assholes until they are about 5. If you looked at a three year old and thought “what an asshole,” you’re probably the asshole.

Anyway, I looked it up, Steve Miller’s album sold 13 million copies. That means, after sobering up, 12 million people put this album on and thought to themselves “what the fuck is this shit???” and threw it away. The other million was split evenly between wedding DJs and Southerns. I’m pretty sure that there are some hillbillies down there in Alabama who still think Steve Miller is the second coming of Hank Williams.

At the end of the day, the only thing Steve Miller did was add waste to landfills and bring headaches to wedding attendees.You may be asking yourself how this is advice right now. I’m getting there. Clearly, my advice to you is to always have Advil on hand at weddings. Because of Steve Fucking Miller.


Nlnln;;nj;n;kn;nnj nkj.kkkliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii?

I google translated this question and I actually agree with Geoff’s analysis of its true meaning.

Actually, that’s not right. Really I did better than Google. I put on a pair of 3D glasses, held it in front of a mirror and recited Klaatu Barada Keanu and the true question was revealed to me.

“Why does Steve Miller think that flying like an eagle to the sea will answer any problems other than the eagle’s immediate hunger needs?”

Again, I really think Geoff hit the nail on the head with this one. He’s really not that handy with tools, but this is clearly not a request for advice. Of course, that won’t stop me any more than it stopped my fellow advicinator. I am wisdomous and I must share my gift.

My advice to you is to stop worrying about what Steve Miller thinks.

For one, Steve Miller is so over. Seriously, check your collar and the hem of your jeans. Small and small. Live in the now.

For two, who is that guy really? Ok, so there’s a Steve Miller Band, but do we ever really get to see this Steve Miller character? Maybe sometimes he hangs out with that Jethro Tull guy and his buddy Lynyrd Skynyrd.

No. It’s all smoke and mirrors. Bells and whistles. Ebony and ivory. Chutes and ladders. The truth is…

There is no Steve Miller.

You can have your Santa Claus and your Easter Bunny and your Tooth Fairy and your Banking Code of Ethics Commission, but you cannot make me believe there is a Steve Miller.

This is a manufactured marketing ploy created by some sadist who was trying to make us call ourselves “Maurice” and take the money and run.

So stop caring what Steve Miller thinks about eagles, or the Eagles (it’s not clear whether or not the song refers to Eric Clapton), or the sea or even being hungry. Steve Miller doesn’t think anything because there is no Steve Miller.

Oh. Wait. I just checked. It turns out there is a Steve Miller.

Never mind.

Carry on.

All the best!

(Wait a minute. Does that mean there’s a Dave Matthews too?)


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