(Editor's note:  (addressing "the reader," as an abstract concept) We've been together awhile, you and I.  We get together less frequently than we used to, but we still catch up from time to time, pop in on each other, talk about our kids.  You know what I like.  I'm still working to understand what you like.  I'm fairly positive that I've enumerated the argument central to today's post about a dozen times over the last three years.  You're welcome to skim over it and dig into the tunes.  They're good.  We're friends, after all, you and I.  You're allowed to tune out my chatter from time to time.)

It is entirely possible that my favorite song from 1986 is "Bernie, Bernie."  If you're from around here, it's one of your favorites as well.  If you're from, say, Topeka, Kansas, you've almost certainly never heard it.  I've waxed rhapsodic about The Shantee, Ekoostik Hookah, and Dink's cover of "Ohio" in this space.  Our Topekan strawman probably wasn't hip to that glorious Ohio triad either.  The same is true (probably) for The Cowslingers, Dairymen's French Onion Dip, the lights at Nela Park, and a thousand other things that you get if you live here.  Happily, Topeka has their own stuff.

I'm worried that the 21st century is about eliminating regional difference.  My darkest fear is that the "internet," social media (you know, Bookface, Twexter, and the like), and the increase in huge media conglomerates will make everyplace like everyplace else.  Way smarter people than me have written about this (probably the closest to what I'm reaching for is Italo Calvino in Invisible Cities), but that doesn't negate my own dread of the coming cultural hegemony.  When my kid is 20, is he going to have the same experiences as a 20-year old in Topeka?  That would suck.  Not because Topeka sucks, but because the things that make us interesting are the things that are unique to us.

All this to introduce two local Christmas songs.  The first one is a classic from my own high school years.  I had the lyrics to this gem in my head for six years before I scrounged an MP3 from the cat at Addicted to Vinyl.  Thanks to the "internet" (that same faceless beast that is smudging the difference between the two Portlands as we speak), I can hum along to a song that would otherwise be dust in the wind (get that chorus out of yer head, sucker).  (Note:  I don't have Slack Jaw's explicit permission for posting; it's old and they're local.  If you were in Slack Jaw and you've got beef, holler at me and I'll take it down.)

Slack Jaw – Christmas Time in Painesville

Second up is a killer holiday tune from our own Modern Electric.  Mrs. Citizen exploded in a supernova of Christmas joy for the last minute and a half of this thing.  Grab a set of jingle bells and get ready to sing along.

Unrelated news: (going all caps here, to try to connect with America's youth.  Those fools don't understand what italics are for.)  GET READY FOR CITIZEN DICK'S YEAR END COVERAGE.  WE HAVEN'T REALLY "BLOGGED," BUT WE HAVE LISTENED TO A TON OF RECORDS.  STAY TUNED.