RIP Beasties

Lately, Brett has taken to prolonged periods of sitting listening to music. Since Mike's still grounded from the infamous mail heist, Brett borrows his iPod a lot. His favorite songs are by the Beastie Boys, and Brett is a man obsessed. He sits down with his headphones in, closes his eyes, and occasionally raises an imaginary lighter as he listens to them.





It's so funny to watch him, because he reminds me so much of the year Mathew turned 12 and got a Cranberries CD for his birthday. I was positive if I had to listen to "Linger" or talk about Dolores one more time, I was going to smother him in his sleep.

The clone is true to form and tonight at dinner he kept steering the conversation back to his favorite musical trio.

"Mom, I don't get why they named that song Paul Revere. I mean, they only say those words like once or twice."

"Well, they have to name it something Brett, what do you think they should have called it instead?"

"Probably just 'A tale by King Ad-Rock'."

"Okay, but what about all of the other songs he does? What about the songs he does on the next album?"

"Well Michael said they're dead."

Mike looks up from his plate. "No, I didn't. I said they were in their forties."

Brett is nonplussed. "Yeah, well, same difference."