Lo, these many years ago, Karl said unto me, "Brendan, you don't really hate The Doors. You just hate the people who like The Doors."
Two decades since that remark, (man! I am old!) I can finally admit that Karl was right. Not about the Doors--I actually do hate the Doors, though I suppose as I've aged and mellowed like a fine cheese, I've warmed up to people who have an inexplicable fondness for The Doors. (I mean, for the love of God, read this and try to explain to me why anybody likes this band. It really mystifies me.)
But Karl was right about the phenomenon in general, particularly as it relates to Jimmy Buffett. After I wrote that thing about Hoot the other day, I started questioning why I have this venomous hatred for Jimmy Buffett. After all, he writes basically inoffensive, melodic pop songs about getting drunk, or possibly about wanting a pencil-thin mustache. He seems like a decent enough guy in real life--he's involved in manatee saving and stuff like that, which I admire. So why do my guts clench every time I hear his songs?
Well, follow me back to the late '80's. People thought it was cool to chant "get laid" along with Billy Idol's cover of "Mony Mony"....A wisecracking alien named Gordon Shumway ruled the airwaves...and people harbored an impossible dream that there would one day be more Star Wars movies that wouldn't suck ass. And I toiled away in the summers in an insurance company. (Thanks, Uncle Tom!). I was still a novice office worker, and so I made a critical mistake, which was working hard when there was something to do and goofing off when there was nothing to do. Of course, the way to work in an office is to work at a constant, desultory pace, stretching out routine tasks far beyond how long they should really take, and then finding ways to bustle around and appear busy when you have nothing to do.
But I didn't know this, so I ran afoul of my bosses for not looking busy when I had nothing to do. Fair enough. But I also got my balls busted for stuff like sending personal email, trying to listen to music while I opened envelopes for 8 hours, talking to my cousin (thanks again, Uncle Tom!) while getting work done, etc. etc. So, in general, this was a pretty tightassed environment. Except when Buffett came to town, the same people who would yell at you for sending a two-line personal email to a co-worker would take a booze cruise up the Ohio rRver to Riverbend to revel in Buffett's songs of easy livin' and laid-back attitudes. I guess I felt like there was a disconnect there that made the whole thing hateful to me--two days after indulging in fantasies of tropical indolence, they'd be back in the office busting my ass about making sure I shuffled papers in between assignments.
But, really, that's not Jimmy Buffett's fault. So, Jimmy, I declare a truce. Unless perhaps I can find a way to gain some publicity from a big feud with you. In which case you still suck.






Recent Comments