I’ve decided today to share a deep, dark secret with all y’all, my Faithful Readers.
Today, I share with you one of my secret shames.
I like Nickelback.
I like ‘em a whole big lot.
I realize that everything Chad Kroeger mumbles, be it song lyrics or his grocery list, all sounds exactly the same.
I realize that it’s next to impossible to tell three-quarters of their songs apart.
I realize that liking Nickelback seems completely contradictory to my fanship of Taylor Swift, Carrie Underwood, Garth Brooks and Sugarland.
I realize that it’s not socially acceptable to like Nickelback, but come on folks this is Cambridge, Massachusetts.
I’m like 97% sure that it’s totally legal to marry a llama, reproduce with a cactus, and/or shoot a hobo for sport on the mean streets of C-Bridge.
Hell, I think everything short of forgetting to sort your recyclables is kosher here, so why not let a brotha rock out to some crappy rock “music” in peace.
After all, I do sort my recyclables, what more do you want from me?!