21 July 2012
Punk Rock Guitars
There have been kids entering the prison system we call school the past few years whose earliest memories are of airplanes smashing purposely into tall American buildings. I do not ask you to think about much when you read the Dope City Free Press but think about that for a minute and compare those children's bedrock memories with your own.
My earliest memories are of the Toronto Maple Leafs playing well and the Beach Boys playing even better. Be true to your school, motherfuckers. They were singing on tv and on the radio. My dad hated them. He knew, as any military man would instinctively know, that one day they would blow their fucking minds on pot and acid. My mom was less dismissive because, unlike my dad, they still had hair and all the young girls, a demographic moms hang on to like a cliff edge above a molten pool, dreamed about them before they went to sleep at night.
All I heard were the punk rock guitars.