Are you alive?

Never you mind that I arrived right as the show was to begin instead of when the doors had opened an hour earlier. Please overlook that I was dropped off in a Ford Explorer. Eddie Bauer Edition. This instead of taking the bus and walking a few blocks. It was cold. Very cold. We discussed whether Susie should drop me off a block before, or a block after so the other kids wouldn't see my arrival out front. Nothing doing. She just pulled to the side of the road in front of the WOW Hall and I climbed out. I wasn't taunted. I wasn't even noticed. Well, maybe one of the kids out front may have wondered where my child was. Afterall, why would a middle-aged adult be here? Why? Because I was taking a little sojourn down Memory Lane. That's why. The Circle Jerks were headlining. Yes, Dear Reader, it was another one of those shows. One of those Punk Shows. One of those shows during which I considered that I had a mohawk before 90% of those in attendance had even been born. Teenagers in cute punk costumes doing what they thought was the thing to do. Or the thing, as they understood it when their parents told them about the Good Old Days. Don't get me wrong Dear Reader. Please don't. It was a great show. It's nice to see youngsters paying homage to some of the pioneers of those forces that shaped who I am. I really liked one of the opening acts. They called themselves Hit Me Back and hailed from South Central L.A. These guys were not poseurs. No spikes. No visible piercings or tattoos. Just a good old traditional hardcore band. So what if they probably get carded when buying booze? Everything is derivative. That is not always a bad thing. After the Circle Jerks had finished their set, I extracted Susie's cell phone from my pocket and called for a ride home. I am not even going to try to explain, let alone excuse myself. Then Keith and the guys came back out for an encore. Four songs in under ten minutes. Sweeeet! Then I went out front and waited for the SUV home. Oooh! I almost forgot, I bought another t-shirt.

You can have the big half

Ollie ollie oxen free. Or whatever variant you may or may not desire. This is a challenge. A taunt. A dare to comment. You know who you are. Who you'd like to be. Better than Anonymous. More so than Citizen. Citoyen, s'il te plaît, peur-être. Товарищ Чувак. Even better than the uncle-killing red monkey so eloquently immortalized by the Milk Shakes. Mmmmmm. Frosty chocolate milk shakes. I digress. But that implies that I in fact, ever, even once, gressed. Doesn't it? A great name crossed my path. A 100. First indicator 0. Oooooh. You know it's going to be good when the first indicator is zero. You really do. Trust me. "Rope-dancing monkey in the Hay-market." Quotes? Mine. Italics? Mine. Boldness? We can share. The monkey and me.