My friend Vikki tells me that my musical tastes are deeply offensive to her. I just smile and nod — she’s a few years older than me, but, despite her advancing age, she’s much more tuned into what’s popular now than I am. “You’re not that old,” she chides. “Why do you like that old-man music?” And “old man” comes out as if it’s some sort of epithet. An insult.
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