My nearest book turned out to be The New Yorker magazine which I borrowed from our “lending library” in the kitchen. Page 29 is an advertisement and the first word to really sink in was … well let’s see if you can guess before you get to the end.
Why don’t you play with us anymore? We used to have so much fun man! We remember the way you’d dance around your room to the Stones and play air guitar along with Jimi. Sigh. Those were some awesome times!
Was it something we did? Oh wait – it’s the needle isn’t it? That bastard broke again, didn’t he? How many times have you had to replace him? He just can’t seem to stand up to the task.
We see you play with the CDs all the time now. Too bad you can’t read us with a laser. But here we stand, dusty and neglected; forced to watch you dance to those pipsqueak plastic discs.
And don’t get us started on those MP3 doohickeys!
Well fine then. Go on, take your pleasure elsewhere. We’ll be just peachy on our own.
V I N Y L F O R E V E R !