Newer posts are loading.
You are at the newest post.
Click here to check if anything new just came in.

This is a true story.

It happened 1984-ish

Angela: Oh, my fucking God.
Me: What’s wrong?
Angela: Look at these people.
Me: /visually scans old factory full of punks at a punk gig
Me: Yeah?
Angela: They’re all assholes.
Me: Whaddya mean?
Angela: He looks ready to start a fight with the next person who looks at him the wrong way; she looks like she alone caused the ozone hole by using so much hairspray; he’s so drunk he doesn’t know what planet he’s on….Why are we here? Why do we hang out with people like this?
Me: They may be assholes, but they sure as hell don’t listen to trendy dance music or the pop pap crap they play on the radio. They look a lot alike, but they don’t look like trendies, and they don’t look boring.
Angela: True.

Had I the wisdom of age I now haz, I’d’ve said, “Walk into any type of gig, and you’ll find a roomful of assholes. They’re humans.” XD

Had Angela the wisdom of age, however, she’d’ve just said, “Man, these people are assholes, but the music’s sure great.” XD

More of my longest-lasting friendships began in punk clubs and at shows than at school. That’s why I hung out with those people: thirty years later, they’re still worth hangin’ with.

Don't be the product, buy the product!