Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Yeah, I like that Gramps approach . . . you dang little whippersnappers today, you poor sad little piss-ant bendable pose-punks, why, we used to have to trudge ten miles through the blazing asphalt, past cacti and car-lots and cement-plaza'd Civic Centers, and driving along long empty realms of desert landscaping, Desert Tan-painted slump block liquor stores and dry-cleaners and convenience stores named after kachinas or totem poles or teepees, just to . . . what? To prove that we existed? To prove that we were punk before anybody even vaguely normal knew what punk was? To prove, I think, that we existed.
Posted by Nasrudin at 1:54 AM