Jesse, I’m going to need you to give some of those fat stacks to me. (Also, I miss you, Breaking Bad!)

I’ve been on a new music tear lately. “New” in that phrase having two meanings because some of the music I’ve been listening to and, in many cases, committed to actually acquiring is really new while some of the music is only new to me.

But this foray into new music has made me take stock of some of my obsessions of old. And made me focus on what I’ve lost thanks to the technology “upgrades” I’ve lived through. Look, I’m a giant fan of all things tech, but it makes me physically ill to think of all my vinyl I sold years ago to Plan 9 to “upgrade” to newer technologies. And now I gotta hear all this shit about how you can’t listen to anything but vinyl if you give a tiny rat’s ass about sound quality. Well thank you, Cap’n. Throwback. I guess I’ll just go out and drop some fat stacks to REBUY all that quality music I sold because I’m a giant dumbass. There are countless albums that haunt me because I didn’t make nearly enough of a profit to justify selling them. One of the very very many that comes to mind is the limited edition copy of Bring on the Night that I played until I thought I’d wear the poor album out. “I Burn for You” is still one of those songs that will always make me stop whatever I’m doing and just fully jump right in. Oops, there I go again with The Police obsession. I’ve talked about that before, right? If not, that’s a post I should write soon. But sure, I get it. You didn’t have the obsession that I did with The Police and Sting. I lost the Sting love for a while there. He became such a giant prick with the who’s-more-awesome-than-I, and the constant spouting about tantric sex which made all of us just want to say, “Woohoo, for you, I guess, Mr. I’m-so-sure-my-sex-life-is-better-than-yours, but maybe you could grab a giant clue and recognize that there are a lot of us that are feeling pretty damn happy ourselves yet don’t feel that we need to crow about things to prove it. So, shut it, you. But my love of Sting has returned (dude’s got mad skillz, yo) since he’s stifled the uptight prick bit he’s been sporting for far too long.

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