It’s Lollapalooza time again in Chicago and with it comes a new crop of people that used to be cool who are now ready to cross the too-old threshold. Welcome! We’ve been waiting for you. Don’t feel bad, we have chairs! And adjustable beds! Last year I gave you 10 signs that you’re too old for Lollapalooza, but while that list was thorough, it was not necessarily comprehensive. There are more reasons that we can add to the list and help you decide if you’ve officially lollaed your last palooza.
No one offers you the pot. I told you not to wear that police uniform. No, I do not think it has anything to do with my Dockers. Stop trying to change the subject.
You spend any part of the weekend discussing finances. I wanted to hear this up and coming musical act, but you really got my attention when you started talking about lowering my interest rate on tax-deferred retirement contribution plans. Oh, that’s actually the name of this band? I’m at the wrong stage.
You complain about the lineup while you’re there. That’s really more of a Cubs game thing.
You’re not trying to sneak anything in. What’re you, a cop?
You’re considering bringing your children. There are signs that you’re too young for Lollapalooza and one of those would be that you’re still soiling yourself. I should be more specific to eliminate some of the regular festival goers. You’re still soiling yourself and you’re wearing a bodysuit that snaps at the crotch for convenience. Well, that’s probably still not specific enough. Let’s just say that you’re still soiling yourself without drugs or alcohol in your system. I get the idea of wanting to bring your kids out and give them an experience, but there was always something strange and distracting to me about random children peppered amongst the mass of great unwashed. During Radiohead a few years back, I was fixated on a toddler that was seated on his father’s shoulders, partially because he was blocking my view and partially because the toddler totally didn’t know anything before “In Rainbows” and was barely even paying attention to the kick ass lighting. If anyone was going to be on that man’s shoulders it should have been me.
No one offers you bath salts. And you have no idea why they would. I mean, you bathed before you got there and you’re perfectly relaxed.
You read a book in between acts. Who says I’m not sneaking anything in? The collective works of Mr. J.R.R. Tolkein are all the mind expanding contraband I need.
You’d rather save the money. You’ve got a tax-deferred retirement contribution plan to think about.
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