Let me tell you a story. I’ll try to keep it short. This morning I was at work. I work with children; the children I work with have various problems, but they are good kids. Most of them come from homes whose adult figures still had a lot of growing up to do when they became parents, and so by the time the children come to live where I work they’ve usually had to spend lots of time entertaining themselves while their narcissistic parents attended to their own needs. They entertain themselves by watching TV or fucking shit up, mainly, and that’s why they wind up in a more restrictive environment. They all love music, but nobody’s ever spent any time at all talking to them about it, so they’re usually rather passive listeners. Passivity is my enemy, so when the kids were doing their housecleaning chores this morning while the radio played and I heard Ozzy Osbourne’s “Over and Over” come on the radio, I had a sudden flash of recognition and saw an opportunity to actually do some good for once. “Hey, you guys!” I yelled. “It’s Ozzy!” Even ten-year-old boys whose idea of rebellious music is the universally despised and perennially Last-Plane-disparaged Papa Roach know that Ozzy is wicked awesome, and they all spotted a chance to walk away from their chores for a second, so we all gathered in the living room while I turned the radio up as high as it would go. |