"Where did you get it?
"From some guy."
"How much did you pay for it?"
"Just a few dollars."
"Why did you ever decide you wanted it?"
"It sounded interesting!"
The kava was flowing in my veins. The camp fire danced before my eyes. Robots barked and chirped from some puny sound system to the beat of programmed drums. And that series of indignant, accusative questions and honest, yet inadequete replies continued.
This exchange was not between a mother and her wayward teenage child, chiding him/her for purchasing the newest, hippest street drug. This was my friend being grilled by his girlfriend about purchasing Neil Young's Trans. I had seen few albums evoke such a visceral response from anyone. It reminded me a lot of when I'd visit the Exclusive Company as a 6th grader and try to keep such offenisve items as Megadeth's So Far, So Good...So What! from my parents' prying eyes, until I could get past the register.
How could the humble Canadian folk/rock/country musician cause such disharmony? It could have had something to do with the cyborgs trying to speak through the iPhone. The display said it was a Neil Young album, but there was precious little evidence to confirm this.
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