I have in my possession what may be the "hippest" thing my father owns. I know it's "hip", because it says so. It's Steve Allen's "Grimm Fairy Tales for Hip Kids". See how "hip"?
I'm currently transcribing it into digital media. Cause I'm that kind of loving son. Oh, I forgot to mention: it's a record. You know, black and round. Grooves. It's weird, I find myself thinking phrases like "drop the needle", phrases that kids these days (Cassie) never knew.
I exaggerate - I'm almost too young to be nostalgic about records. Cassettes were my thing. You know.
So, I'm revelling in artifacts from an era I wasn't alive for. I'm kinda surprised that my dad owned this record. So that's interesting.
Oh, and one more aspect that makes the whole experience even stranger: the record is a 78. The best I can do is play it at 45. It's almost like Miss Othmar speaking through Jell-o. Maybe backwards, too. At these speeds, I can't make out words most of the time.