Mom's Rock 'n' Roll "Warning Book" Backfired
So she gave it her best shot. With Bob's little book.
The idea was to turn me away joining the ranks of the bad boys by appealing to my sense of morality (which she had done a fine job of installing in me).
What's that saying about "best laid plans"?
Maybe Mom Is On to Something Here
I remember thinking, "This is bullshit," before I even picked up the book.
Lord knows (pun intended) that I didn't want to read it. I was keen to my mom's intentions and manipulative ways. But I had told her I'd read it -- and in spite of my hoodlum tendencies, I was (an still am) a pretty good kid -- so I started to thumb through it.
I could tell right away that Mom's strategy had been even more flawed than I had originally thought.
The problem was that my mother had no clue about a majority of the subject matter with which Bob was dealing. Rock 'n' roll ain't no place for a good Christian girl, so how would she? She wasn't aware of the slang and lingo of the culture or the depths of debauchery championed by these fine young hippies. Most of all, she had no idea how much fun this sort of immorality could be.
By contrast, I figured I knew quite a bit at that point.
I was a freshman and, like I said, I'd begun to dabble in the ways of a hoodlum, including moving from pop to rock music, taking up partying, and chasing girls. I picked up stuff quick, and I had a whole band of young ruffians to teach me, so I thought I figured my slang, street smarts, and rock 'n' roll knowledge were pretty advanced.
Until I started reading this book.