As Dilf and I strolled the beautiful beaches of Carmel this weekend, one song kept creeping unexpectedly into my thoughts:



Yes, the pain of adolescence never goes away. It keeps gnawing at you and gnawing at you until you die. For me, Huey Lewis is that pain that returns, unbidden and unwanted, time and time again.

In the 1980's, Huey music was everywhere. In the movies, on the radio, on television. There was no escape then, and there is none now for those of us scarred and indelibly marked by the horror that was Huey Lewis and the News. I wasn't a fan, I never bought an album, I tried desperately to change the station when they came onto the radio every 10 seconds... yet they are in my brain, never leaving, never showing mercy. Curse you, Huey Lewis and your evil cohorts, The News!

The thing that kills me is that no one now will own up to buying, liking or even listening to them. So how did it happen? How did the unctuous ugliness of that band seep into our nation's pores and erupt into pernicious pustules that continue to erupt even to this day, spewing poison into happy moments of spousal togetherness? Somebody was buying and listening. Vast numbers, even. Come out and show yourselves! I know you weren't listening to the Pixies back then! Liars! And don't even make me think about Phil Collins...

Too late. Oh, the pain.