Alexplorer Goes Time Traveling...

If you're just joining this series already in progress, then it means you don't have a time machine, so here's the short version: Every Tuesday (your present), I come back from my adventures time-traveling around MySpace and fill you in on what happened to people from my past as they keep slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future.

Ah, here's one now...



Randy

Then:
Randy (not his real name) was a football hotshot back when we were in high school together.  I didn't have any classes with him, so I hardly remember even talking to him.  However, unlike a lot of guys on the team, football wasn't everything in his life; what he really cared about was making music.  Granted, it really wasn't the kind of music that did anything for me or anyone from a blue state, but he loved just singing and strumming an acoustic guitar.  I think he maybe played something at a talent show one year, but if so, it made so little an impression on me as to as be completely forgotten.

Eric and Roy (from past episodes) were going to get together and play one weekend, and the former was pissed when Roy invited Randy along because he could "sing a little."  Eric thought about the same of Randy's music as I did, basically that we didn't need another country singer retreading the same ground that a hundred just like him have spent decades covering.  I don't know how the jam session went, but probably not to Eric's liking.


Now:
Randy's still pushing this crap on everyone, and even the record companies aren't interested.  Granted, I have nothing against Randy now anymore than I did back then, but seriously, this country shit has got to stop.  He seems like he's still a nice enough guy, so I guess no one wants to tell him this to his face.  As a result, he'll likely throw away another couple decades basking in the glow of polite applause with scattered showers of genuine enthusiasm from a few die hards and groupies.  Unless he's an environmental terrorist for a living in his day job, the world would be better served if he abated the noise pollution and concentrated on something even remotely constructive instead.

Hypothetical letter I'll probably never send to him:
Randy,

Enough.

Sincerely,

-Taste.


Copyright 2008 Ale[x]plorer.  All photos are of the actual individuals described above because, seriously, I can't make this shit up.
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