So I went and saw my son’s band play at a place called “Skullets” this past weekend and had a bang up time. The place was barely legit. The owner or guy running it, whatever, was my age and was, so he said, “on parole for pot.”

So we had to keep things clean. This meant that we couldn’t smoke weed in the building until he got drunk and therefore didn’t care. There was no liquor license, so we couldn’t drink in the building until everyone got lit up outside, then it was cool.

So they tore it the fuck up. That’s him in the red flannel with the blue guitar. Clearly, my parenting skills rock.

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