Friday, November 19, 2010

I ain’t no God Damn Son of a bitch

I love punk music.  I really do. Nothing gets my blood pumping better than good old fashioned kick ass punk rock. Especially on a Friday morning when the last thing in the world you want to do is drag your tired butt out of bed and go to stupid work.

I was talking last night at the bar and I remembered that many years ago one of my best friends would surprise me with a punk rock song left on my work voicemail. So when I would get to work and start checking my messages, in the middle of the voicemails would be some awesome kick-ass music. It was just the thing to get in your head and help you get through the day.

So I sent my old friend a text message last night and said that I thought it’d be cool if he could find the time to call my current work voicemail and maybe, if he was so inclined, leave an old middle finger waving, anti-establishment punk song for me. He is a good friend and he delivered.  I was happy to get to work and find my little red light flashing on my phone showing I had a new voicemail. (I had four actually – it seems people on the West Coast don’t understand what Central Standard Time is.)

So now I have a good song in my head and I’m nearly ready to say, “Fuck No”, to just about everything.  People have a hard time believing I like punk music. I’m pretty clean cut these days and I certainly don’t go stomping around in waffle makers or anything. I just don’t like anything, and that’s punk enough for me.

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