Maine Family Robinson: I Predict Next Year Will Be Worse Than Last Year. Where’s My Check?
Someday I’ll sing this song, just like this:
Until then, as long as we have the meat on the shinbone of a sparrow, we’ll be fine.
Happy New Year!
I’m not in a nursing home eating a puzzle in the common room yet, or anything, but I’m long since past giving two craps about staying current with music. I’m deeply suspicious about anyone over thirty that pays attention to such things. Have your turn and then move on in all things.
I like young people and forgive all their enthusiasms for things dopey. It’s their turn to be dopes. We got our chance to be dopes when we were younger, and if we squandered ours it’s our own faults. No use going to house parties in your mini-van. Lots of teachers are becoming creepy in this respect, too. You’re not my teenager’s pals, pal.
So I will refrain from mentioning I’ve lived through a close approximation of this look and sound at least twice already. If those cute youngsters want to look like the last two on the left in a Lynyrd Skynrd photograph, god bless’em. They can stay on my lawn as long as they want if they sing and play and have fun like that.
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