Commerical Ruin

My child has figured out how to turn on the small clock radio in his room by pressing the "Sleep" button. Its most likely something he could have done before if we ever actually showed him this clock thing played music. That, however, is neither here nor there. He now turns on music whenever he feels like hanging in his own room. We keep the radio set to 100.7 - the Oldies station located down-town. Its also the only local station truly "local" as in it resides in our town and not some where else along the coast. Again - neither here nor there.

Today my boy flips on his radio and what is playing? The California Raisin song. Of course that's not really the song's name, but everytime I here it all I can picture are shrivled up clay grapes dancing a modified conga. This is what commericals do to me.

For what its worth, my son has decided that Simon and Garfunkle - based only on the sound of them singing "I have a rock" or whatever that song is - must be the Wiggles. I will never listen to "Mrs Robinson" the same way again.

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