That was what one radio host said the other day, “We did not have all these problems back in the 1950’s. What happened?” What happened indeed…
May I tell a story? Thanks.
Little Johnny got up early Monday morning to catch a ride with Billy Ray, the neighbor boy Johnny’s mother wishes was saved. Billy was kicked out of school awhile ago, but his parents don’t know, so he makes the drive every morning. He pulls up a bit late, Eminem thumping out the 200 watt amp and stadium speakers. Johnny vibrates to the passenger seat and sits down.
As they head to school they make a brief stop at the Quicky-Mart, where they down a Jolt and a package of Little Debbie something-or-others. As Johnny bites down on cream-filled oatmeal thingies, he picks up a can of red spray paint and slips it in his jacket. This coupled with the sugar is quite a rush. Johnny wipes his mouth and smiles. Life is good at the Quicky-Mart.
Johnny heads to school where he couples the gym teacher’s name to a urinal cake, using his stolen paint. He is busted by the hall patrol and sent to the principal’s office. While waiting to see The Man, Johnny begins to think about the good old days…
“Man,” he laments, “I never had these problems back at the Quicky-Mart.”
The 1960s did not spring up from nothing. Disco had roots… as did Grunge and whatever you call the hellish mix of sounds produced by Pink these days. You want to lament the loss of the 1950s? Wake up and smell the rebellion; the nascent rebellion of the third millennium.