how yacht rock saved me from the woke popes of the therapy profession

I'm a trooper for boz scaggs

I’ve been driving my wife crazy lately. Lucky for me, it’s a short trip - gas is very expensive these days.

Sometimes I drive her nuts with ranting and raving.

Other times its with comments and requests about how we stack the dishes.

Lately though?

I’ve been a torrent of yacht rock.

Yes.

Yacht rock.

I don’t think there’s a thing in the world that makes me happier than the over produced yacht rock of the 1970’s

She hates it.

For a long time I hung out with drips who judged people by the obscurity of their record collections.

Now?

I’ve discovered what I really like.

And what I really like right now?

Boz Scaggs’ Lido Shuffle.

On repeat.

I am not certain that there’s not a better pop song ever.

Actually?

There are a lot of them.

Lido Shuffle, Reelin’ in the Years, Baker Street, Margaritaville, Night Moves, Cheeseburger in Paradise?

This shit is PERFECTION. (note - It is most desperate wish that I do something that warrants someone giving me the nickname ‘Nightmoves'. That would be so fucking epic)

My god I wish I lived in that period of Michelob drinking white boy thirty something joy.

To quote Boz?

One more for the road!

Lido
Whoah oh oh oh
He's for the bank, he's for the show
Lido's waitin' for the go, Lido
Whoah oh oh oh oh oh
One more job ought to get it
One last shot then we quit it
One more for the road

Yacht rock is the perfect soundtrack for summer.

One song however is the pinnacle of summer tunes.

Sadly it never charted on the Billboard hot 100.

It’s become the theme tune for my life.

A funny thing too. In my ‘ute, I’d hear it echoing across the Grand Parade as it blasted from speakers within the Liquor Dome.

Back then?

I thought it was goofy - pure cheese and according to the punk rock grunge rock rule book (Book of mockery, page 374, Chapter six, verses 7 - 13) this song was so dispicable it wasn’t even worthy of an eye roll or mockery.

Back then?

I had pretensions of seriousness.

Hell up to a few years ago when I fell off the horse and didn’t renew my paperwork / do the professional learning to keep my credentials as a the rapist, I had pretentious or belief in doing serious work. I wanted to be taken seriously.

Which is fucking hysterical when you take into consideration that not a shred of evidence exists to suggest that life is ment to be taken seriously.

Relieving myself of the yoke of responsibility has been better than pissing on the feet of the pope.

Only I was freeing myself from the paranoia of being excommunicated by the woke popes who run the ethical review boards at the therapy colleges. Some queen with pretensions of being king would go after this pawn for spending too much time polishing his bishop.

That paragraph alone could have got me cancelled.

Instead?

I now wait tables.

I do handyman work.

None of that work has any meaning beyond the fact that I go, I’m entertaining as fuck then come home with a bunch of money and no problems to think about nor anyone threatening to blow up my job because I say some stupid impulsive shit.

It’s wonderful to be freed from the pressure of leadership.

That therapist shit?

Sure I was good at it.

I wasn’t just good - I was fucking great.

But the business side?

I couldn’t sustain that part.

So really?

I was flawed at the on thing that people want in a therapist - longevity, dependability and stability.

That stuff?

That’s for the family.

So back to yacht rock and summer living.

I’ve found one song that basically captures all of the wisdom I’ve sucked up over my fifty two years of being alive.

It captures what I’ve learned as an artist and a dad and a husband and a son and a therapist and a community member.

And to think, in my ‘ute, I ridiculed this pretty ditty.

My theme tune was written by the great Britishcolumbian poets Tro Oper.

I invite you to listen to it here.

And here are the lyrics for those of you who prefer to read:

A very good friend of mine
Told me something the other day
I'd like to pass it in to you
'Cause I believe what he said to be true

He said
We're here for a good time
Not a long time
So have a good time
The sun can't shine every day

And the sun is shinin'
In this rainy city
And the sun is shinin'
Oh, isn't it a pity
And every year,
has it's share of tears
And every now and then it's gotta rain

We're here for a good time
Not a long time
So have a good time
The sun can't shine every day

And the sun is shinin'
In this rainy city
And the sun is shinin'
Oh, isn't it a pity
That every year,
has it's share of tears
Every now and then it's gotta rain

We're here for a good time
Not a long time
So have a good time
The sun can't shine every day

It’s really that simple.

Now go out topless and leave the sun screen in the bathroom

Eat life in big bites you chumps.