Because I enjoy torturing myself I guess, I have been listening to contemporary rock radio on the way to and from work the past few days.

I do this every few years.

So far I’ve heard twenty songs. All by men.

The chances assuming a 50/50 distribution of artists (which I know is not true, but should be) of hearing twenty songs in a row by men is 1 in 1,048,576.

There apparently is no chance at all of hearing a good song.

So I’m done with that dip into very bad radio for a few years.

When I was two-and-a-half or three until I was about six, for some reason I thought my knees were a private part and that showing them in public was no different than exposing for instance your penis.

I have no idea why. No one told me this. I developed the idea myself. Somehow.

I’d absolutely throw a fit when my mom or anyone would attempt to make me wear shorts.

For some reason, it never bothered me that other people showed their knees.

Then one day, I literally up and decided that my idea about knees was stupid and I started wearing shorts.

I don’t have weird knees or anything, so who knows what that was about….