Friday Five

Five things I had at 19 that my step son doesn't (and most likely never will).

A Pager:
Try explaining to yourself the whole concept of a pager. Weird right?

A CD Player:
Sure his computer can play CD's, but a boom box or even a DiscMan would look as outdated on his bedroom floor as a turn table would have looked on mine.

A Carburetor:
Sure he doesn't even have a car, but if he did, nothing but fuel injection, baby.

A Cigarette:
In my first apartment, we never did laundry, dishes, or vacuumed, so the place smelled like sweat, vomit, beer and death. And yet we smoked outside because it was that foul.

I still mourn the loss of MTV. Sure it was not quite as on demand as YouTube, and we had to twitter with our friends through a rotary phone and eight miles of extended curly cord. And it was filtered and sanitized from all the indie hipster rock that is the staple of the listening audience today. But who among us doesn't feel the phantom tingle of Headbanger's Ball and Yo MTV Raps? Who among us doesn't ache with nostalgia over the full length version of Thriller or the first four chords of Smells like Team Spirit? Video may have killed the radio star, and some of us were blinded by science, and girls were having fun and giving love a bad name. When Alannis and Sheryl weren't so uncomfortable to look at and we were young enough to think Brittany Spears was hot and not the creepy pedophiles we would appear to be today. Pre Karaoke. Pre Reality TV. Pre Pink Ribbons, but smack dab in the middle of the war on drugs and the AIDs epidemic. The industrial revolution and the speed with which technology evolves insuring that my life will be nothing like my fathers, nor my sons. MTV was our little slice of awesome.

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