Once again the generation gap rears it's head. My buddy and I were sitting in Flynn's in Mansfield when the Trivia Night started. I can't avoid that game as it's like Jeopardy and it's a fun workout for your brain. The two of us M and I, are pretty good at this as we both “learnd to reed goodly in skool.”
Our partners were adopted on the spot, a group of local mid 20something guys who nailed certain questions while M and I nailed others. The way we split the questions was interesting. I call it the Pre/Post 1999 split.
If any question that referred to anything past 1999, we handed that to the younger guys as M and I have nearly given up on popular culture that occurred after that. Anything pre 1999 was ours, as that part of Americana is completely relevant and everything else isn't. We adhered to that split except on one question.
“New Direction? You know of New Direction? What? You listen to it?” I say, ribbing M.
“I have a NINE YEAR OLD daughter! That's how I know about that!” he says, defending himself from that accusation.
“Yep, (and imitating his girl's voice I say:) 'Daddy! Daddy! New Directions is on! Watch it with me like you did the last time! Which one do YOU think is cute Daddy?”
The one category he and I killed at was the music one and being half in the bag as well, we were commenting on the younger ones inability to know such great songs.
“You don't know 'Don't Fear the Reaper' by Blue Oyster Cult? It's the one song that makes the best use of a cowbell!”
They stared at us two, wondering what band would name itself after a gooshy oyster.
As we were nailing question after question, one of the younger guys became miffed and started shooting some barbs at us. I tell him, “Hey, don't worry, he and I will sit here, dumb and deaf if they was any questions about the Zombie Apocalypse or...(snickering and aiming it at M.) New Addition!”
(As I'm writing this, I heard the plumber say “Goddamit!” That doesn't bode well. It probably means I'm writing a larger check. The plumber is this huge Polish guy, square-headed with a buzz cut. He's a perfect stereotype. I bet he can pull his own plow in his cabbage fields. OK, I'll leave the Polarks alone.)
What amazed M and I was that we were completely duh-duh when it came to most recent of Americana. We just don't know it anymore. Ah, well. I guess that what happens. I gave up on “new” music when grunge faded into the twilight. Since then there hasn't been any real new movements in music, or anything I liked to boot. And the two of us don't watch the “View” as that was one of the questions. What the hell is the “View?”
We are both, and an entire generation of Boomers, are slowly on the way to becoming irrelevant.
How is it possible that “Don't Fear the Reaper” is 38 years old now? It felt like it came out yesterday.
Anyways, it was fun and we won. Our entire bar bill was halved with the gift card we won. I like half price anything!
(And to boot! My Polish friend charged a simple $90 to rip out those old faucet stems from 1973. The things were encased in calcium. If I had tried to fix it, it would've cost an additional money, as I would have f'ed it up then slip in the tub breaking my hip.)
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