Kneel Before Zod

In a perfect world this would be a post about my first year in the suburbs after a long hiatus, i mean really whats 20 odd years or so between stints, and in a perfect world this record would rocket up the charts and be #1, why you ask? because it's a record of fucking anthems about nothing, about living, about something that we can't quite put our finger on and though i don't really want to be 22 again i sorta wish i was so i could listen to this in a fucking stifling rooming house while i was soaked in sweat and drenched in beer and drugs but instead i have almost 20 years perspective on that kid back then and these kids belting out the songs and though i am not one for nostalgia i do like to occasionally reminiscence and i do believe this is the type of song that i would get ridiculously drunk to with my friends, be it the Hassler or Furious or one of the other wise-ass motherfuckers from back in the day and we'd most likely toss furniture around and scream out the chorus and the oh oh oh ohohoho oh's and in the end we'd laugh and drink and sing all the way til the sun came up and it would be a glorious fucking mess...

but the record came out 20 years to late... either that or right on fucking time for some derelict who tends to smoke to much weed and drive through the burbs, gigantic sideburns, beat-up pair of  Vans, rolling under the weird blue glow of the streetlights, smiling and laughing and scowling his way through the day cuz the people out here really don't know what to make of him, they just don't meet that many people in the burbs who genuinely don't give a shit of what they think, really no different from the city except maybe the people are a bit more polite, to your face anyway... and today as this man with gigantic sideburns and Vans hummed this song through the grocery store to buy Nick Disaster some cupcakes for school and the girl a piece of strawberry  pie for her birthday, elegantly wasted with his baseball cap pulled down low, the way it's been since he was a kid to hide the glassy blue eyes, the way it's been since the last time he lived in the burbs, he was thinking if that if the suburbs were Zod then he was Superman and he was crushing poor Zod's hand instead of Zod crushing him, from soccer games to hockey school to the local park to the fucking mall, he was acing this test, sure he didn't golf or look like an accountant, he didn't drive a BMW or a minivan, all he did was hang with his boyos, trim the hedges in paint splattered cut-offs, drinking beer and bobbing his head to the music that constantly played in his noggin, he waved at the neighbors and took out the garbage and sometimes...

sometimes at night, when it was quiet and calm and the birds and the groundhogs were all tucked in their beds, he'd slip downstairs and crack a beer and blow a tube and put on some headphones and dance around until we was soaked in sweat and drenched in beer and smiling...