Can’t help but remember my skinhead days in Knoxville…

Brass knuckles…

Skateboards…

Graffiti…

Throwing beer cans at bums rummaging through dumpsters…

Punk music…

Handcarved tattoos…

Gang fights in downtown alleyways before and after the ’82 World’s Fair…

…these are tough times, getting tougher…

…the Committee is reading the minds of American riot police, looking for the one who’s on the edge, liable to shoot a young person in a U.S. city under siege by protestors – get inside their thoughts, ignite their rage (could be any ol’ thing, such as a weak marriage, borderline job performance, or anger management problems in general) and watch chaos ensue…

I was too young for the glory days of the ’60s – Woodstock, Kent State and the like.

Time for something completely different…and yet so much more ultraviolence than “London Calling” …

…sigh…if only I was in better shape physically…

Otherwise, I’d join the gents in livin’ out “The Guns of Brixton.”