Running With Scissors

There are many photos of me, as a kid, dressed out in full 1970s pimp-daddy fashion: polyester vests, wide collars over jackets, knee socks, Pumas, mother of pearl snap shirt buttons. The whole nine. I thought my surviving Seventies fashion was fortunate enough. Now I wonder if I’m lucky to have gotten out of the decade alive.

Was the entire decade this self-absorbed? Were people really this twisted and narcissistic? I would have thought there was only so much damage head scarves and hideous yellow housewares could do to one’s self-esteem. Apparently I misunderestimated those effects.

Bah. What a rotten flick. Stupid me-me-ME! people.

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