As I got in my car earlier today, another car pulled in and was blasting a song out the window. That’s a weird song to be playing in such a celebratory way, I thought. “Right Time of the Night” by Jennifer Warnes? I wondered if that guy was listening to it, too.
I cranked up my trusty Chevy Malibu and, sure enough: My radio was also playing proclaiming it the right time of the night for making love. Channel 7 on Sirius/XM. Every Saturday. American Top 40 with the now disembodied voice of Casey Kasem. So there are at least two of us in Rochester.
Where I was at the time was quite novel for these times. This was my first visit to a wreaka stow since the Trump Virus hit. Since I’m fully vaccinated, I thought, let’s go. I left with only two CDs, The Interrupters’ Say It Out Loud, which sounds like the best parts of any Rancid record with a kickass chick lead singer (it is produced by Tim Armstrong), and Ska Au Go Go by Neville Staple, which may just be a weird remix set. I didn’t intend to go on a ska spree, but there you go.
Oh, and I found Q. It turns out he’s a dancing man.