Sheryl Crow, “If It Makes You Happy”

A truly excellent song. That’s some real rock and roll too! 1996. Apparently we were still making some good music all the way into the 90’s.

Obligatory Doomer essay follows:

Look in the comments section where many folks are harping on about their painful nostalgia for the 1990’s. The 90’s were literally the good old days! Sad!

Yeah, I know. That 1990’s. I don’t get it either.

Well, I guess no matter what decade it is, the time you came of age is always the good old days, and everything that comes after, no matter how good, never quite reaches that peak. That’s why most people’s musical tastes are formed from 15-30 and stay that way for life.

I must say that’s truly pathetic. I knew modern music was crap, but I had no idea modern life blew too. I dropped out so long ago I barely even know what year it is. Don’t even ask me for the month, much less the date or especially the day of the week. They all run together for me anyway, especially as every day’s a weekend, except it’s one where not much is happening. Oh well, could be worse. At least I am free! Free and broke, sure. But free nonetheless.

Recall when they say you can have Blacks, freedom, or security, except you can only pick two? As long as we are playing that game, remember most of us peons either have money or time but never both. Only the idle rich living off their rents can afford such hedonism. And they often complain of boredom. Maybe we need a little shittiness in our lives, just to stir things up, to clear the air, to make us see clearly again, no? But then life always steps in, piles it on, throws a turd in the punchbowl and wrecks the party.

Too much bread and circuses. Nah, that’s boring. Then we’ll just take dope every day and live in a haze and burrow away from life. No wait. We’re all already doing that. The overdose deaths tell us as much.

tl/dr: Modern life must truly be horribly pathetic if people are actually, literally nostalgic for the fucking 1990’s. The 90’s! No, really. I’m not kidding. Just when you think you see every bad movie that’s ever bad made, you look outdoors and realize that even the worst B-cinema can’t compete with the depths of shittiness to which “actually existing reality” can plunge, especially in the Current Year.

What a man to do as long as he’s moored on this Clown Rock? Don’t ask me. I never have any solutions to anything, mostly because there aren’t any. We’re lucky if we can settle for amelioration or more commonly, merely arresting of the decline.

Well, there’s always the dope. And the booze. Which reminds me. There’s a Tequila bottle sitting here next to me that’s calling my name. See ya all in a bit.

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