An Exemplary Demonstration of Parenting Skills
Before my daughter was born, I had heard that if a certain type of music were to be played repeatedly in the presence of a pregnant woman, the baby would grow up to develop tastes for similar styles of music. So naturally, at the time being a 22 year old heathen in my own right, I blasted heavy metal like Pantera, Rob Zombie and Cradle of Filth incessantly during my daughter’s last two trimesters in the womb. My intentions were to preemptively thwart any aspirations that she may develop to one day appear in a Ludacris video.
Lizzy is seven years old now and she’s had an interest in music for the last two years or so. It’s been an epic struggle between the evil forces pulling her into the depths of lame-ass country music (read: her mother), and the power of all things pure and good, preaching the gospels of Dimebag Darrell’s Washburn licks (read: me). Although it had been an even match for the most part, as of late I’ve been the more successful one in this battle to influence the musical preferences of my blond-haired, blue-eyed future heartbreaker.
Last night I was sitting at the PC in the basement office of the house and Lizzy was a few feet away playing the PS2. She paused her game and came over to me. “Can we listen to some music, Daddy?” She asked in an innocent, hopeful tone that would melt the hearts of even the toughest of dads.
“OK sure,” I agreed as I clicked the mouse to open Media Player. She has a few dozen MP3’s that she likes, mostly composed of tolerable chick-rock songs ranging from No Doubt to Joan Jett. I opened up the file titled, “Lizzy’s Tunes” and a couple seconds later, the first few chords of ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ came ringing through the PC speakers.
Source: Myspace.com/Slayer
“No Dad I want to listen to this,” she insisted, handing me a dusty jewel case she’d retrieved from the rack in the office.
The cover of the CD had no text identifying the artist. Instead, it was decorated with a series of ghastly, primitive looking drawing that one might expect to find scrawled on the inside corridors of some ancient Mayan ruins (see below). Although the CD belongs to me, I had to look at the bookend to see what she had brought to listen to. It read “Slayer – Seasons in the Abyss”.
Source: metal-rules.com
“I want to listen to ‘Raining Blood’“, she asserted enthusiastically.
‘Raining Blood’ is the only Slayer song she knows, because it’s featured in Guitar Hero 3. Apparently this one song is enough to make Slayer her new favorite band.
My daughter, who attends a Christian daycare, likes Slayer, whose name an acronym from the phrase “Satan Laughs as you Eternally Rot”.
Bury me with lots of sunblock when I die, because I am certainly going to hell for this.
Source: htzfm.com
So, in some real Father of the Year good judgment, I threw the CD into the drive and we rocked out to classics such as ‘War Ensemble’, ‘Expendable Youth’, ‘Dead Skin Mask’, etc. After we got through the last track, I asked her somewhat cautiously if she could understand the lyrics.
“No, it just sounds like a bunch of growling,” she replied with a grin, as if this were part of the allure of Slayer.
I am not too worried that this is going to affect the way she turns out as a teenager. I think as long as I can prevent her from going the route of Kelly Osbourne, I’ll have done my job as a parent well enough.
Reader Comments