I find myself listening, closely and disapprovingly, to the lyrics of current pop songs—I assume they're current pop songs—that my 9th-grader belts out, perhaps more loudly than she realizes on account of her ear buds. So, if you play one of those gambling games where you bet on who's going to die soon, you might want to consider drafting me, especially now that the last pope has croaked. Speaking of him, his view of these lyrics would likely be even more dim than mine. Hope he's enjoying the organ music that blares through all eternity at his new address. If he's lucky, popes get to listen to Bach, a Lutheran.
Once today when the ear buds were out she told me they are going to be reading Romeo and Juliet in English class. She knows I'm interested in Shakespeare and so moans and groans while imparting this information and then sneeringly imitates the language. Her abilities in this regard extend no farther than overloading sentences with "thee" and "thou." I plan on telling her that the play is intended as a cautionary tale about what happens when people her age consider themselves to be "in love."
I might be understating my chances of attaining an actuarial average as my own dad lived for about 50 years after first frowning on the music I played. Though I think he had to try not to smile upon overhearing, on The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan:
Well, my telephone rang, it would not stop
It's President Kennedy callin' me up
He said, "My friend, Bob, what do we need to make the country grow?"
I said, "My friend, John, Bridgette Bardot". . . .
Ask me why I'm drunk all the time
It levels my head and eases my mind
I just walk along and stroll and sing
I see better days and I do better things:
Catch dinosaurs
Make love to Elizabeth Taylor
Catch hell from Richard Burton.
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