Sister Christian

Oh the time has come

And you know that you're the only one

To say O.K.

But you're motoring

You're motoring

At Unproductivity, I take pride in uncovering the real dirt behind the things we've all taken for granted. These are epic battles on a grand philosophical scale, but I traverse their coarse, wicked terrain with ease to humbly defeat my foes with a simple flick of my logic. This time, however, I must request the assistance of you, dear Reader. We've faced this nimble adversary, the many-headed Ranger of the Night, once before in May 2002, wherin we were posed the question of whether we could, indeed, still rock in America. We could, and we do - quite adeptly, I say.

Now we are faced with a far greater struggle: to determine your very state of being. The Night Ranger arrives on mighty steeds composed of guitar string, powered by sound waves, and nourished by Rock. Your fate hangs in the balance - the Ranger demands an answer: Are you motorin'?

(I believe that unproductivity may just be motorin'.)