"Hot Seat"

With Summer receding in our collective rear view mirrors. This came to me. Memories of daze long ago when I was trapped like a bug in the somewhat loving amber of my family. Yeah family is a trial. But,...

You so love these folks. They sort of like you, and put up with your stupid crap...mostly. Most heartful they'll 'still' be with you at the end.

With that in mind.

"The red hot plastic back seat of my dad's 1950's Buick."

Driving back from Jones Beach with shorts full of hot gritty sand with my little sister Sylvia on my lap, squeezed on either side by my big brother John, and older cousin Jimmy while we all sat on the red hot back seat of dad's beloved Buick!

I think this was a torture unique to mid-20th century western industrial cultures. That is being the hapless victims of the items of industrial convenience entertainment, and planetary cultural hegemony. Oh the mid-20th Century American dream of TV dinners H-Bombs, and cheap gas! We shall never see their like again.

So yeah that's Exhibit "A" up there,..sort'a.

We all would be packed into the sun roasted back seat. Eh,...the front seat above acts as stunt double to my tale. ...the dashboard's cool.

A side bar to all this. While being at the beach I wanted to wear my mom's sunglasses. I wasn't allowed. Only mothers movie stars, and drug addicts did that, and my old man wasn't about to let any of these careers befall me. Well it was a close thing, but no I never got pregnant.

Drug addict movie star mother no.

Queer anarchist radio broadcaster yes.

...I was just trying to make dad proud.