I grew up going to gothic and industrial dance clubs, ever since I was turned onto the sound by Nine Inch Nail’s Pretty Hate Machine. It was at klubs that I heard new cutting edge music and sounds. It was in the scene that I connected with my friends after high school. Doing set-up, working the door, and spinning helped pay for bits of grad school. Heck, I even met my wife at the “klubs.” I was a dedicated rivethead, as evidenced in these pictures I found in the dark corners of my hard drive:
Consider this back-story.
Everyday I take the Ladybug to daycare on my my to work. Consequently, each morning you will find me and the Ladybug singing to the Wiggles playing on CD while simultaneously doing the dance steps (well, the hand portions anyway) we’ve learned from the corresponding DVDs. Today was no different: I was zipping along the streets of Rapid City, loudly singing “D-O-R-O-T-H-Y! Dorothy the Dinosaur! I’m talkin ’bout D-O-R-O-T-H-Y! She’s my favorite dinosaur! Rompomp-a-stomp — hey! Rompomp-a-stomp — hey!” and dancing like a demented cheerleader. I laughed in delight and snuck a quick peek in the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of the Ladybug similarly singing and dancing… only to be shocked to discover she was not in the car.
The Ladybug’s absence was in itself not too shocking, since I was in fact actually driving to daycare to pick the Ladybug up for the day. Rather, I was shocked to discover that I had spent the entire day singing and dancing to Wiggles songs about dinosaurs and fruit salads and friendly pirates, thereby invalidating several decades of hard-earned gothic-industrial cred.