Since mom's washer decided to bust a nut on her, and the outdoor candle almost set fire to the outside patio last night (the fire extinguisher had to be used it got that bad), she decided it was time to make space for the lovely new USB turntable my new dad bought for her on their two year anniversary.
You heard me straight, folks. A USB TURNTABLE. Say it with me again child.
Do you know what that means? All those crates of old school punk/woozie indie shite she has been lugging around with her since the days of WSHJ radio can be converted to MP3 format directly to her PC.
I can hear a collective orgasm coming straight out of Chicago since I know how much those fools use to love coveting moms vinyl. Well guess what? It's back on the party bus and we're not sharing.
We're currently listening to this relic which was originally issued in 1979. Mom was eight years old jamming out to this nugget with her Dad. Heck, from what I gather, mom started listening to bands like Husker Du, Crass, Sex Pistols, Cocteau Twins and Sonic Youth when she was 10. White, punk and illegal, yo. She use to be cool.