please exit through the gift shop…

"I belong to the blank generation.

I can take it or leave it each time"

—Richard Hell

the wife is going away this week to our corn fed heartland on bidness…

the bidness of velveeta…

and it takes away from our anniversary…

and my birthday…

and besides…

once you have a kid, you briefly forget how to do all that shit you did when you were dating.

so we went to the punk rock exhibition at the met which always strikes the bastard as the weirdest place to go to see exhibitions of pop culture. 

the met is very old guard…

like something stuck in amber perhaps…

but…

it's well funded so at the very least, it'll look good.

which it did. 

but it was what I saw on the sides that made me take notice.

it's a story about how pop culture influenced fashion trends…

and the evolution of said trends over time…

so if you're going to see a show about  fucking the establishment…

then sling your hook elsewhere squire, this ain't it. 

it's like this, back in the 1970's kids were reacting against the giant bands and arena music and at the time the bleakness of a rough economy (sound familiar yet?) and a guy named Richard Hell started wearing a shirt with a target on it with the words, "please kill me" inscribed on it. 

the bastard paraphrases so there's so much more to it. I don't want to bring the dept of continuity down on me. 

anyway…

across the pond…

similar shit was happening and vivienne Westwood and Malcolm mcclaren owned a shop on kings road and was seeing and doing some interesting stuff. 

so they outfitted a band and put their clothes on then and then the sex pistols were born. 

and boom…

a fashion movement took hold, said the me on Madison Avenue. 

flashy forward to now, and the bastard is looking at clothes from now, influence by a bygone era that may well happen again given the circumstances we all face economically and I'm listening to some idiot who looks like the lead singer of creed telli his friend in his best ”hey brah” voice while I'm slowly trying to poke my ears out with my car keys while he goes over his johnnie rotten Wikipedia talki points

and all I can think is…

"ha ha ha… have you ever had the feeling you've been cheated"

brah doesn't know about this. he's just a product of mass marketing. 

and that's what this was about…

mass marketing

and when we exited through the gift shop, the price tag told me everything I needed to know. 

then my lovely wife and I went to the 29th century wing and followed up with Indian food.

good times

—the bastard