Jr. lately has become quite adamant in his entertainment tastes. Specifically, he demands that one song on one particular CD be played over and over and over again. It is not a bad song (or a bad CD, really), but I now hear the song playing in my head 24 hours a day. The lyrics make no sense; they are basically dadaist poetry. They consist of the words “violin”, “hippo” (which Stinkboy sings as elbow and then points to his elbow), “speck of dust”, and something about fractions of “George Washington’s head.”
It could be worse: at least the lad does not seem interested in the Wiggles, or Barney, or any of that sort of syruppy crap. I hope that holds. If it does, I think a lot of the credit probably goes to the steady diet of punk and heavy metal I fed him as an infant. Perhaps the CEO should write a book on how to raise a well adjusted toddler . . .
