As much as my parents did not "get" rock music, at this stage of my life, I don’t "get" rap music. I feel like a parent in the sixties, trying to figure out what they are really saying in Louie Louie. I can sometimes decipher a word or phrase in a rap song, which isn’t bad for a middle-aged white guy who still thinks a "rap session" would be where you sit down and have a deep discussion about serious topics, like the state of today’s music industry, and how the big radio stations refuse to play any song by an artist that questions the direction in which the world is headed, and is not a song filled with mindless drivel about getting drunk, high, or having sex. It’s all about distracting the masses from the big picture while they all cash in, man.

I am seriously considering trying to cash in myself. Take this rap deal, for instance. I think that I could fake my way through this. Get me some of that "bling - bling." Is that hyphenated? Anyway, I’ll get one of those little keyboards with the built-in drum beats, hit a few random notes, repeat it throughout the entire song, and spew out a string of nasty, barely decipherable words that may rhyme, or may not, depending on my mood.

For my music video, I’ll wait until I’m a bit cranky and maybe even irregular. Nothing like a touch of constipation to give you that edgy, dangerous look. I’ll scowl into the camera, wave my hands around making all kinds of interesting configurations with my fingers, fold my arms and stand in such a way as to give off some serious attitude. Yeeah, yeeah, yeeah! Then, I might need a nap.

Michael McGan - 24th March 2006