My daughter, who is not in camp this week, is listening to her bubblegum pop music in the background as she organizes her closet. I am reminded of one of my pet peeves with modern music: the lyrics are utterly lacking. They lack imagination, they lack charm, they lack wit, they lack wisdom, they lack romance. They just drone on and on and on about teenage suffering. BOOOORING.
As the antidote to that kind of brain-cell sucking music, I present you with Johnny Mercer’s G.I.Jive: