Like Marijuana Leads to Heroin

Jack Johnson relaxes me.

Does this make me

a) on a downhill run to becoming someone who pays money to see Celine Dion in concert (incidentally, she has covered a Heart song, note for note, for why?)

b) overtaxed and not myself because of
b.1) hormones
b.2) exhaustion

c) an innocent victim of mind toxins?

When we went to water aerobics classes at the aquatic centre 3 years ago, one of the instructor people always put on Jack Johnson for the cool-down portion of the session. And I was all, what the hell is this beachy shit? And Saint Aardvark was all, hey, I am loving this groovy groove. So last year I bought him a Jack Johnson CD for Christmas and he was kind of lukewarm on it, I think, but it ended up in our computerstereo and one day a few weeks ago, a bad day, I went in and saw it there in our computerstereo and I played it and it was like taking valium. I instantly went to a good place where a breeze was blowing and my favourite drink was on tap. And because of that, the children in my care were also relaxed and so we had a much better afternoon than we might have had.

But Jack Johnson seems almost sly-ly inoffensive. He is inoffensive with an agenda. Is he a gateway drug of which I should be wary, lest what credibility I have left be mysteriously removed by the hipster police while I sleep? Or should I be more practical and say “whatever works” where “works” means keeping me and my spawn alive one more day.

I do not know.

In other music news, I, an avowed foe of the Barenaked Ladies (except for the song Brian Wilson, preferably live) am totally a fan of their album for children, Snacktime. I think all their lives they were working up to a CD for children.

Yeah, the hipsters are coming for my cred tonight, I think. Oh well. That’ll leave more room in the closest for plastic crap.

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