For the past 20 years, all my old punk rock albums have been residing at the top of the closet in the middle bedroom. First it was big guy's room. Now it's little guy's. We were driving somewhere today and somehow we got on the topic of the music I listened to as a kid. My little guy pulled out his iPhone and opened some app with a bazillion songs accessible. I rattled off name after name of bands I'd seen here in town during the 80s. The good, the bad, and the ugly. The raunchy stuff, I was relieved, was not "good" to him. The fun and funky stuff, he actually rather dug. Then it was his turn. He pulled up songs he liked...and I liked (and already knew) them all. I don't even mind (too much) the bad language if it's got a good danceable beat. Then he pulled out some song called "Yonkers" because clearly not
offending mom had gotten boring. Yeah, he lost me there.
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