Teacher’s Pets From The Black Lagoon

Like love, wimp rock is a wondrous, magical thing. It floats through the air like a nerf TV tray, leaving its fans preggy with saccharin dreams of little duckies, jelly jungles and lips of the pigeon. Over 72% nicer than shoving a bag of stuffed bunnies down Bernadette Peters’ throat and easily as personally satisfying as dropping an anvil on Benji, a good wimp rock session will leave you as numbly happy as a fresh carton of babysicles.

Pepsi Dates Of The Third Kind

“But just what is wimp rock?” asks the Hills Bros, coffee bean buyer. A better question might be who. I’ve checked my official list qf red flag words that, “used innocently or truthfully,” can touch off a libel suit or attempted hit job, but “wimp” is nowhere among them. Commie, skunk, deadhead, ambulance chaser, fawning sycophant—they’re all there, but no w-i-m-p. That means I can call absolutely anybody I want to a wimp and they can’t dp one single thing about it. You and I both know what that means: Jann Wenner, -come on down!