Not that this Triple Crown is anything to sneeze at. One wonders why Adam Sandler didn't recruit these three acts to score The Wedding Singer all by their lonesome -- surely an MTV Movie Award would have ensued. Anyway, in case anyone was wondering, here's how you do the Styx/REO/Journey thing right. First, get an eightball of blow from your West County hookup. Second, reserve a limo -- preferably a white one -- for you, your buds and the big-haired honeys and, in the interest of historical accuracy, stock it with every flavor of Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers. As you power through the chalk and the syrupy fifths, whip on a red Mike Reno headband, crank the stereo -- domo, arigato, Mr. Roboto, Himitsu wo shiri tai -- and start catcalling at the top of your lungs out the limo's sunroof. Finally, roll up to Savvis all amped up 'n shnizzle. It's Friday night, after all. Tommy Shaw wouldn't have it any other way.
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