Last Night in a Glowing Hell

Attended the "glow" something or another festival around the S. M. Pier last night, the closest we've ever been to a "rave," & though we have done some raving in the so-called real world (as even the casual reader here will have noticed) this was no doubt the closest we'll ever get to a "rave." And are we tired. As some of our fellow aging wretches noted, this was the first time in recent memory any of us had heard the phrase "last call" used in person. That's right, no "X" or what have you, The Editor himself had only a mere sip of a margarita to remind himself how awful tequila is, but all were rather run down by the midpoint of the 12 hr. festivities. As to the event itself, suffice it to say that by the end of the '60s we were quite over light shows, & those were accompanied by music performed by live humans playing instruments, not the brain-dead, soulless, robotic "Gas Music from Jupiter" that today's young people use to accompany their soulless computer-generated post-random color patterns &...blah, blah, blah, mumble mumble...etc., etc. Nap time.