Mom's Rock 'n' Roll "Warning Book" Backfired
Turns out there was all kinds of cool shit that Bob knew that I didn't know.
He didn't think it was cool, but that didn't matter to me. That only made it cooler.
Maybe I really will read this book, Mom.
Trust Me Son, Bob Used to Be Cool
To the best of my recollection, Bob's story was that he used to party, or he hung with some hippies, or played music or something. He was somehow on the scene.
Then I guess the music scene scared him, so he got "saved" and hit the church circuit, regaling good little Christian kids like me with stories from the dark side of youthful partying and talking about his book, which took rock 'n' roll to task for its sinful nature.
I remember thinking the backstory sounded fishy. I was still learning how to party properly myself, but even before I opened the book, I suspected Bob was a poseur. A lightweight on the outskirts at best. That guy you suspected might be a narc.
So how could this poseur's book be so interesting to a burgeoning young rocker?
Because, boy, could Bob research naughty behavior.
If you wrote some bad lyrics or had a bad album cover -- hell, even if you're song title wasn't kosher -- you probably made Bob's book. If you played it too loud, did any drug on earth, or even had the audacity to consider a religion other than Bob's, you made the book.
It was beautiful. Like a who's who of rock 'n' roll.