How Going To A Punk Concert In My Late Thirties Taught Me To Hate My Lame Ass Parents

7/1/2022 by Brandon Puff

As you get older, you start looking back on your life and wondering what you could have done differently with the time you were given. When I was younger, I always wanted to attend a punk concert but felt too intimidated to try. Going in my late thirties. despite my fears, helped me learn something important, it helped me understand that my parents are lame as hell and that I should hate them.

It took me quite a long time before I was ready to follow through on my commitment, to attend a punk rock concert for the first time in my life. I made sure to dress appropriately, ditching my khakis and blue polo for something more venue appropriate. A few hours after entering Hot Topic, I was the baddest guy in the whole shopping mall. Thick mascara around my eyes, a spiked leather jacket and a pair of black jeans with a bunch of tears in them. I was ready to experience what I had been waiting for.

The night started off well, I was set to watch the headliners Drunken Youth along with some other opening acts meant to get the crowd going. The rest of the attendees were friendly and approachable, many of them enjoying my retro punk fit. When the music started and the beer began to take control of me, I knew I had made the right decision. Never had I experienced music like this before, the vibrations cut through the air and touched my scrotum violently. It woke me up and made me angry, all I needed was a target. The lyrics of the opening song by Drunken Youth helped me realize my parents deserve my hate because they suck. I'll try to recall those lyrics to the best of my ability now.

I was just an eighteen year old menace

Living with my parents

They sucked

So bad

They yelled

So sad

Why don't you just fuck off?

Fuck off mom and dad!

When the concert was over and I returned home, I washed the makeup from my face and then looked at myself in the mirror for several hours. I let the lyrics run through my head over and over again.

The message connected with me, the feelings were clear and I knew what had to be done.

That night, at three in the morning, I called my mom and dad and told them to fuck off. It was the best decision in my entire life. They still ask me what they did wrong, and when they ask, I simply tell them: everything. I got the message, and so did they.