my name is michael; i’ve got a nickel

I’ll admit there’s something comforting about ’70s AM gold. Callie and I like to listen to it in the car; this is entirely appropriate, as most of our memories of this stuff involve being strapped into the back seat while our parents took us on errands. However, no amount of hindsight, nostalgia, kitchiness or perversity will ever make Clint Holmes’ “Playground In My Mind” bearable. No, go listen

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