I saw a photograph the other day, of this old band I was in.

They all had long hair and acid-wash jeans.

We sang ballads about big haired jersey shore girls named Marie. We drove around town listening to the new echo and the bunnymen album. We felt right for our times, we had such high hopes back then. We wanted to have our own place, our own bar, where we could cover Billy Vera and the Beaters to our heart's content.

It wasnt just about the music, it was about the politics, backing Dukakis, no matter
how foolish we looked to our parents. When we saw him in the tank it was all over, our new Greek JFK was floundering at the bottom of a greek tank of Ouzo.

We drenched ourselves in blood the day Pat Robertson announced he would run for President. We went to the shore a lot that summer, mostly to rehearse for our upcoming tour of New Jersey coffee shops, the gig in Pines Bluff being the most memorable, two babes with fishnets talked to us after the show, we gave them a ride, and our numbers and never heard from them again.

I've got two kids of my own now, the band broke up a long time ago, but I still sing the originals, the ones about Marie, and that guido douchebag she was dating. What a slut.