Deep Purple - "Pictures Of Home"
1972
The south Minneapolis baby boomer. You know the type: Gray hair, getting smaller by the minute, never smiles. Why do they look daggers at me? Am I such a bother? I sit on the bus with my earbuds in, my UND hockey hat pulled so low it almost touches my glasses, and I'm merely listening to music and reading a book on my phone. When I sit at the coffee shop and write in my notebook, I'm trying to fade into the background. Why are you south Minneapolis boomers such downers with your sense of entitlement and constant frowns?
The boomer who yelled at one of my delivery guys because his van was blocking the alley and she was forced (heavy sigh) to turn her car around and use the south alley exit instead. The boomer who when asked if I truly was about to use the elliptical cross-trainer at the YMCA and I said "uh, yeah" (my right foot was just about to swing onto the machine's footpad), turned her smile upside down, glared at me, and walked away without uttering another word. The boomers at Kowalski's who dominate the narrow aisles and won't give me an inch when I try to walk by. The boomer down the alley who works on his roof in the spring well after dark and well after the city noise ordinance says he can. The boomer across the alley who is sure to rototill his garden on Saturdays at 7 a.m. (When said boomer
meticulously cleared his garage driveway, was chatting with a neighbor proud of his work and the city plow came through the alley and pushed a bunch of snow on his driveway? Awesome, totally awesome. Watching that was the most fun I have ever had looking out the kitchen window while firing up the morning coffee. Tops observing the murder of crows that hang out in that area, even.)
Look south Minneapolis boomers, it's a long winter and like last year I have the feeling the snow will keep coming for another couple of months. You don't like me, and I'm starting to move past apathy and into active dislike for you as well. The streets are gonna be as narrow as those aisles at Kowalski's. Our glasses are gonna fog up a lot. I will continue in my belief that I don't owe you a goddamn thing. So here's my suggestion: Grab yourself a beer or three, pour a shot of whiskey or vodka, and fire up some metal on headphones, as metal is ideal coping-with-winter music. This week my suggestion is Deep Purple's Machine Head, an album the proles rallied around during your youth. Play it loud, play it proud. Because nothing is better in these times than catharsis, and it's obvious your yoga and meditation ain't working.