As the credits rolled, a familiar song played, albeit in Hawaiian. I hummed along with it, and TB looked at me, quizzically.
"How do you know this?"
"No, what song is it?"
"You'll get it, just wait to the chorus."
As the familiar strains started up, I turned, expectantly to him, mouth open in a Muppety expression of "eh?? EH??? *NOW* do you see?" But... nothing. Blank stare. I belted out the chorus.
"Nooooothing compares! No-THING compares To Yooooou*!"
Silence. Blankness. Lack of comprehension.
"It's Nothing Compares 2 U! Sinead O'Connor? Written by Prince? Huuuuge hit in the 90s? The decade that defined our upbringing?"
"Huh. I don't think I've ever heard it."
"WHAT?? No, no. You must be mistaken. You've heard it. Here, let me pull up the video."
*gets video on YouTube*
"Come on, now you know it. Close up of Sinead's face. She's bald. She's pale. She's tortured."
"I know who Sinead O'Connor is."
"HOW? HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT? Why would you have any reason to know who she is without knowing this song?"
"I'm sure she has other songs."
"I'm sure she does, but that's not the point. No one says 'Oh, the Baha Men. They sing 'We Rubbin', right?I'm not familiar with them letting the dogs out, no."
"Look, there's plenty of popular movies you haven't seen and I don't rib you about it."
"That's true, but I know of their *existence*"
The conversation then basically devolved into me calling him a homeschooled jungle freak.
|He is not, however, just a less hot version of me. He outranks me.|
In truth, I'm kind of glad he was clueless about it, though. It gives me something to screech at him when he's complaining about how I've never seen Star Wars. Checkmate, Cady.