I'm grabbing a bite at WFM to wait out rush hour. Hendrix just came on the sound system & I found myself imagining a time traveller taking him by the lapels: "Dude, if you don't get your shit together, in 40 years when one of your songs comes on, the first thing people are going to think of will be 'drowned in a pool of his own vomit - how pathetic.'. Don't be the poster-boy for drug addiction, man. You're better than that."
And then another part of my brain butts in with "Poster-boy? Would that be a locution that made sense to him, in, what, 1968?"
I'm not even sure I was conscious of the time-travel fantasy til pedant-me intervened....
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