Sometimes life comes at you fast. One minute you’re hiking along cussing a trail packed with ice that refuses to melt despite the 40˚ daytime temps, and 12 hours later, you get word your kid needs to hunker down in his dorm room with the lights off because there is an active shooter at large on campus.
In the end, more people are dead; more kids are traumatized, more parents are worried sick, and more useless words are spewed from politicians about increased gun laws that will never happen due to Republican fuck faces and fear-mongering by the NRA, whose members are still waiting for the Red Coats to come back. And much-needed mental health programs for the masses will be discussed loudly but never see the light of day due to political infighting.
I will spare you any continued rants, as it is useless. However, I will say that if you vote Republican, worry about your Second Amendment rights like it’s 1776, and or support the NRA in any way, you can go fuck yourself with your gun, and I would ask that you never visit here again; I have a feeling we would never be friends. And if you’re the type that prays for whatever people pray for after every mass shooting, I would urge you to find another god to pray to because the one you’re praying to doesn’t give a flying fuck.
Having said that, with classes canceled for the rest of the week, I drove down to MSU and picked B-Man up early Tuesday afternoon.
This was my second time driving B home after a shooting incident and lockdown. The last time was back when he was in junior high, and a student from Central Michigan shot and killed his parents when they picked him up for Spring Break, and then the kid ran. If I know America, I’ll probably have more chances over the next few years.
It was great to put eyes on him, and despite the gravity of the situation, B was good. We briefly acknowledged the events of the night before, but I wanted to give him the space to talk if he wanted, not talk at him. It turns out a large part of him, like me, begrudgingly accepts that this is sadly just part of our culture now, like COVID, reality TV shows, and the Premier League’s inability to use VAR correctly.
Soon B was putting on the most recent Lil Yachty album, and I got in his good books when I said it reminded me of Tame Impala, who is, unbeknownst to me, another fave of B’s as well as several current rappers.
With that, we put the events of the night before behind us (literally) for a while, he selected a bunch of Tame Impala tracks in addition to Yachty, and we drove the hour home floating on multiple layers of synths, distorted, unintelligible vocals, and head-nodding bass lines.
If you have kids, give ’em a hug. Even if you don’t have kids, give some a hug, just keep in mind you may be arrested.
Later.
THE SOILED SOUNDS TRACK OF THE POST