How About You Just Mind Your Own Business Next Time?

This is directed to those folks who think they are improving our lives but who in fact, are trashing them. This particular edition is dedicated to the 1st moron who took out the jukebox and replaced it with piped in music. Like lemmings, others followed and you have all left me wondering, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

I have loved jukeboxes since I was an 8 or 9 years old and started sneaking off to the pizza joynt around the corner from my house. I would return empty Coke bottles and save the pennies until I could afford an order of garlic bread or sometimes fries. As I recall, the food was tasty but culinary delight was not the main draw.

I went for the jukebox and more important, the waitresses who fed it quarters. The best time to go was in the afternoon right after I got out of school and before the dinner rush. If they weren't very busy, they would mooch quarters from the bartender.

Over the years, I found out that you can learn a lot about a woman if you pay attention to how she uses the jukebox. It goes far beyond what type of music she decides to play. Sure, Patsy Cline, standards vs. dance music, Top 40 all yield clues about her state of mind. But you also needed to pay attention to her relationship to the jukebox. Was she dancing with the jukebox while choosing her songs? Did she play the same song over and over again? Maybe she asked strangers what they'd like to hear or even asked strangers for quarters.

And now that important resource for delving into a woman's psyche is gone. Happy, Motherfucker?