Conversation with my dead brother.

“Jesus Christ, how the fuck can you own so many shit albums!”
“Patty Smith was the godmother of Punk!”
“Shut the fuck up! That is a load of bullshit.”
“but google says so”
“Have you heard that fucking album, they should use it on prisoners at Gitmo… It would make me talk. I also warn you that the other 40% of these bullshit albums will never see the light of day.”
“What are you talking about, I own the Patty Smith album”
“That album wanted to make me break glass and stab myself. You barely had any albums you were willing to listen to.”
“I loved those albums”
“enough to have the beat up in boxes for 20 years, Oh… and holy shit the ultimate ‘kurt weill’ collection. One fucking coltrain but 6 braxton, and the ultimate Brubek collection. Did you have something against Jazz from black guys? I don’t mean to be a douche but they are the only ones smoking enough weed to understand it.”
“hey now, that was uncalled for”
“You bought albums, how if you purchase ones you fucking like. The bowie and the Talking heads the clash… Ya, I get that. But there were 300 other albums. Were you just drawn to the Shitty soloist section in the record store?”
“Ok, so some of them I just purchased and didn’t like.”
“ya, I keep hoping for some real gems… even your Pink floyd collection was ‘compilations’ You fucking understand that they were concept albums, every one of them. So… NO FUCKING COMPILATIONS”
“Hey! I’m dead, you should be nice to me.”
“no, I should have been meaner when I was alive. Hang on a minute, I need to switch the record… I need to listen to another lame ass soloist sing Cole porter. And I love cole porter. Ya… well i’ll spend a lifetime torturing people with ‘i need to listen to some random album because I’ve never listened to ‘“cracks in the sidewalk” please indulge me as I torture my friends with your collection.”