Mr. Loggins

Hey Loggins! How’s it goin man? Messina okay? We haven’t heard from him for a while, so if you see him tell him we said “hey.” 

We here, at Crimes against Rock , have been thinking about how much we’ve missed you bro! Oh boy, we’ve been thinking about all those good times:  the Gipper, Iran-Contra, acid washed jeans, chicks with shoulder pads, trickle down economics, SDI; the whole 80s thing man.

Those were the days, am I right? I mean dude, the ol’ Gip, a homoerotic volleyball game, beatin’ up some commies, and fuckin-A-Loggins on the boom box. It doesn’t get any better than that! 

  MJwycha and mistercomedy (staff writers for Crimes Against Rock) high-fiving after a staff volleyball game

MJwycha and mistercomedy rocking out to Loggins and Messina's "Danny's Song"

Anyway, the offer still stands right? You’ll take us right into the danger zone Loggins? You won’t drop us off a few blocks from the danger zone and make us walk the rest of the way, right? It’s not some lame scenic tour though the 'burbs of the danger zone is it? Because, I gotta tell ya man, we’re a little scared at what we found after following your directions along the highway to the danger zone.

Now, according to "Danger Zone" something (it’s unclear what) will be “revving up [our] engine.” This sounds good—I’m all for my engine being revved up if you know what I mean (wink, wink). But then we’re supposed to “listen to her howlin’ roar.” Huh?

If our engine is revved up, why would we listen to her howling roar? Are you suggesting that our engine is some kind of chick? Now, I don’t know about the other wussies around here, but my engine is pure man meat! You feel what I’m sayin’ Holmes?

Fortunately we have a few English majors around here who informed me that you were suggesting some sort of mystical and metaphorical melding between man and machine.

Dude. That is fucking deep. Sheer poetry brother. . Yes, yes, it starts to make sense now:  the “begging you to touch and go,” ooooooh the timeless art of foreplay. We dig it man. Oh yeah.

And then the line:  "she’s (the F-16) spreading out her wings tonight”—very nice, very sexy there Loggins. Spread ‘em baby! You know, you just don’t get those sort of metaphors these days, comparing sex with a war machine designed to kill and maim. Oh, for the innocent joys of the 80s!

But I have to tell you Loggins, the apparent message of the third verse concerned us a great deal for a while. You say: “You'll never say hello to you / Until you get it on the red line overload / You'll never know what you can do / Until you get it up as high as you can go!”

You'll never say hello to you?  Now, that just sounds like pinko-commie drug talk there friendo.  I said hello to myself once—in the parking lot of a Grateful Dead concert in 1994 (JFK. Bitchin’ show man. I totally “met myself” during a 23 minute version of “Playin’ in the Band.” I think Jerry looked right at me…)

MJwycha saying hello to himself at a Dead show in 1994--sometime during a 47 minute "Eyes of the World" 

 Anyway, are you suggesting that our brave and man-chiseled pilots should be munching on psilocybin mushrooms and inhaling nitrous oxide in order to say hello to themselves? I mean you are telling them to get high, right?

***It was just pointed out to me, by one of our intrepid interns, that you are actually implying that we will never know ourselves until we push it to the edge. It was also pointed out that you are not saying we should get high but to “get it up as high as you can go.”***

 Ohhhhh. Get It Up. I get it. Yeah. Heh, heh. We have big dicks, so fuck you commie bastards! Wolverines!

And what did we find "out along the edge?" What was there, after the long haul along the highway to the danger zone? An orgy of dead commies and naked Playboy bunnies? Free subscriptions to Hustler and a lower tax rate? Well, er, no.

Frankly Loggins, we are more than a little disturbed at what we’ve found. Not at all what we remember the 80s to be about:

                        HASSELHOFF!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Loggins, if you could just clear up this highly disturbing confusion, that would be great. This Danger Zone is too scary. There has to be some other Danger Zone somewhere. A Danger Zone free of The Hoff's crotchal area. 

Please Loggins, just meet us halfway, across the sky…right into the danger zone! (A Hoff free Danger Zone that is)