Today in the car I realized just how much useless data I have stored in my brain. Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville,” a song I find particularly offensive, came on the radio, and I caught myself singing along. Then something really scary happened: I realized I knew all of the words. I knew every word to that terrible, terrible song.
Maybe I knew all of the words because I hear the song at every restaurant remotely close to a beach in the state of Florida, maybe it’s because several people of my youth worshiped the lazy singer, maybe it’s because there is just something inherently evil about Jimmy Buffett. I’m not sure what it is that lets me know all the words to a song that I don’t like, or how to prepare some foods from scratch by memory, but the same thing prevents me from even temporarily memorizing the names of bones or mathematical equations that I need for school.
Why do I hate that song so much? It’s hard to tell. Probably because of a certain group of people that lovingly refer to themselves as “Parrotheads.” What I find so disgusting about these people is that they are very similar to hippies, only worse, because they are grown adults who just want to be hippies on the weekends. They also have chosen a terrible mascot: the king of all things evil and lazy: JIMMY BUFFETT. These folks make my skin crawl.
SHAME ON YOU! YOU ARE ADULTS!
In short, thanks to jerks like Jimmy Buffett, I failed my last History of Dinosaurs exam.
Also: I got a sixth offer for an interview.
Erica and I went to Myles Baker Street again this morning. We ended up staying long enough to eat two meals there: breakfast and lunch, so we did. They have such wonderful baked goods, great coffee, and a very friendly staff. We have a new friend; her name is Julie, and she is very, very nice.