Halrloprillalar

PSA: Henry Jenkins is blogging.


I listen to Johnny Cash more on Friday than any other day.

Mean Eyed Cat
I've Been Everywhere
Solitary Man


And a few tracks from Hesperus's My Thing is My Own: Bawdy Songs of Thomas D'Urfey.

Would You Have a Young Virgin
The Tunbridge Doctors

Last night the Boy borrowed all my Johnny Cash albums (which to him seemed a rather large stack, but to me seemed woefully small). It turns out that he was out at karaoke and people kept asking him to sing Cash songs and he didn't know them.

("It wasn't Ring of Fire, was it? Please don't tell me you don't know Ring of Fire," I said. "I know Ring of Fire," he replied, somewhat offended.)

He feels like a failure because he doesn't appreciate Johnny Cash. And so he's going to try to learn. It's very cute.

It reminded me of how he tried to learn to like beer, because he thought that a Canadian who didn't like beer was not a real Canadian at all. For about six weeks, he drank a beer every day. (And I made sure he had decent beer, not any love in a canoe crap.)

It didn't work. He got to the point where he could drink it without hating it, but he still doesn't like it.

I wonder if these two things correlate. Will someone who couldn't develop an appreciation for beer be able to develop one for Johnny Cash?