You could wipe your hands on them

I was at a party at a westside club a couple years ago. One of those afternoon things, cheap beer, hot dogs, loud music, old friends, good times. The place was Liquid Kitty, a sweet little watering hole on Pico. I’ve known the owner since Ye Olde Days, maybe a quarter century or so back. We were both thin and had lots of hair then. Now he is thin and has lots of hair and every once in a while he books a bunch of Ye Olde punk bands from Ye Olde Days and they play all day long in the joint to a crowd half full of Yo Olde Geezers and half under thirty types who think we are soooooo cool. You knew Darby Crash? Was he just like the movie? You opened for Black Flag? Wow!!!!! I always want to point out that was over thirty years ago and shame on them for not coming up with their own musical rebellion like everyone else did before them since the days of ragtime, but I refrain. They’re so cute. And clean. You could wipe your hands on them. And they’d let you.

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