OF ’ 77

EVER GET THE FEELING YOU’VE BEEN CHEATED? THE PRESIDENT WAS A CROOK, AND THE SAVIORS OF THE ’60S WERE EITHER DEAD OR WALLOWING IN BLOATED LUXURY. THEN PUNK SHOWED UP SCREAMING.

Weweren”tinnocentlambsby 1977.Eventuba-playingvirgins who lived in half-finished, rural Georgiasubdivisionsknew the times they had a-changed. Television had shown us all aboutit. Severalyearsbefore, every day after school, The Andy Griffith Show’s kindly Southern sheriff had blurred into the Watergate hearings’ kindly Southern Senator Sam J. Ervin Jr., who detailed the antics of our creepy, pit-stained pit boss of a president. The Vietnam War had ended infamously as CIA helicopters, sagging with refugees, fled the roof of the U.S. Embassy. “Recession” and “inflation” were a constant refrain. (Who knew what they meant? But they sure made Dad anxiou _{My favorite record was the Dickie Goodman novelt}>s.) _y