Seems to me that, thirty years ago . . .
~ . . . there were a helluva lot more things men would do on their own. First time somebody opened a Jiffy Lube, every male within twenty miles either said “Now there’s a helluva failure in the making“ or “Damn! And it’s just down the road from the golf course!”
~ . . . the phrase “I wonder if we can smoke in here?” hadn’t been invented yet.
~ . . . we all knew what condoms were, but if a high school guidance counselor had offered a bag of free samples we would have died of embarrassment right on the spot.
~ . . . going to the movies was a big deal, it cost two bucks, and if you didn’t go while it was in theaters you weren’t likely to see it for years thereafter. A big screen was the theater. And a compact disc was the thing you threw out when you were digging holes in the yard. By hand.
~ . . . if someone had asked where your phone was you didn’t start rooting around in your pants pockets. “It’s right over there on the damn wall where it always is, sport! And don‘t go calling nobody long distance, neither!”
~ . . . if someone mentioned Spinners and your Car in the same breath, you dug out the 8-Track and listened to Motown.
~ . . . a bush was a shrub. No, wait . . .
~ . . . a young bald man would be viewed with some alarm, and there’d be whispered inquiries about his health. A young bald man with an earring would be dragged off and shot.
~ . . . a woman with a tatoo? A woman with a tatoo?
~ . . . we were waiting for the next Steely Dan album to be released any minute now. Which makes me feel both old and young all at the same time, of course.
~ . . . going dancing meant that you’d better be fairly skilled at doing something other than determinedly thrusting your pelvis toward the east and holding your hands out as if steering a wheelbarrow.
~ . . . on finding that your underwear was exposed while in a public place you would exclaim “Oh shit!” and not “Heh, hot shit eh?”
~ . . . you were expected to be reasonably satisfied with the size of your penis or breasts. Really.
~ . . . disaster relief was something the bartender did after you spilled a beer.
~ . . . if you wanted to read about world events you bought a newspaper. If you wanted to surf, you needed to live by the coast. If you wanted to blog, you dropped $50 for a bag of weed and an Iron Maiden album (and you might have gotten change back).
~ . . . we were coming up on the 200th birthday of a nation, and people tended to feel pretty damn good about that.
~ . . . I was 17 years old, Vietnam was over and the biggest worry in my life was getting the car washed for a big date with the cheerleader girl.
And that, my friends, constitutes very good times indeed.
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