BR Redux

We return to one of my favorite topics, and one of your most hated.

Some recent developments in my abominable world of Butt Rock (BR):

**A lot of work places have "Hawaiian t-shirt Fridays" and "casual Fridays." Both are lame and boring -- not to mention overdone. So I instituted Butt Rock Fridays. Fundamentally, this consists of me listening to some BR on my iPod during the morning hours at work and then wearing a BR t-shirt with my jeans.

As a testament to my lack of courage, however, the latter has yet to happen, due to the fear that I would get called into some ad hoc meeting and have to give a presentation to some higher-ups while sporting a t-shirt that has "JUDAS PRIEST" or "SCORPIONS" plastered all over the front -- all because I felt like celebrating "Butt Rock Friday." (I imagine that this feared scenario would be like me competing on Iron Chef while wearing nothing but an apron. I'd be exposed. Vulnerable. All while trying to demonstrate knowledge in something that the spectators likely know more about than I do.)

**AM affectionately labeled me her "butt rock king," as she and MM were my road trip compatriots that partook in a powerhouse butt rock compilation CD I made. It was a 17-track assault on (and affront to) Mozart, Beethoven, and all things artistically beautiful; an auditory massacre. And yet it was somehow quite sing-alongable.

The CD did its job and kept me alert in the late hours of the night. I have found that it is difficult to fall asleep at the wheel of a car while you are continuously dry-heaving/mocking the stupidity of something. Or singing along.

**A few months ago, I penned an entry laying out the fundamentals of the BR genre, and concluded off-handedly that I should teach a Music History class on the topic.

Hadn't thought about it since then, as it was a joke.

Well, apparently the nether regions of my brain thought it was an idea worth exploring, and did so for four months whilst I remained unaware. My sub-conscious presented its work to me in a ridiculously vivid dream in which I was the professor of a Butt Rock History course, the first of such classes at any major university. In the dream I was preparing a powerpoint presentation for my first day of class. I was quite frazzled; literally stressing about the order of my slides and how I should present the material in a cohesive way to the auditorium of 300-400 students.

Yes. I am out of my mind. But if you haven't deduced that by now, perception may not be your thing.

My one regret from the dream is that I didn't catch a glimpse of the demographic of my students. Would have been absolutely priceless.