Whattsa matter with you? You’re never around when I need you. I’ll bet you’re too busy seeing concerts like Dwight Yoakam and Todd Rundgren. You go off to the shows, leaving your mother home alone watching Jerry Springer and Ally McBeal. Shame on you. You’re just like your father.

And what’s with your new girlfriend? You know she’s only going out with you for your concert tickets. Sure, you two will have a good time seeing Mix Master Mike and G Love & Special Sauce together, but she’ll take off after that final encore, looking for another concert daddy. After all, why would a good-looking woman like her want to go out with someone like you? I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You look just like your father.

What did I do to deserve such a son? I just don’t know what to do with you. You sit in front of that computer all day looking up tour dates for Blues Traveler and Blonde Redhead on Pollstar.com, when you should be out beating the streets looking for a job. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know. You expect me to support you the rest of your life? You’re such a loser. Just like your father.

And when are you going to get married? You know, settle down with a nice girl, and give me some grandchildren? Life isn’t all El Vez concerts, you know. And stop pickin’ your. . ., oh you’re just like your father.

You better listen to me. After all, I’m your mother and I know what’s best. You can’t spend the rest of your life going to shows like D.O.A., where you’ll probably be hanging out backstage with Bahamadia and partying all night with Starlight Mints. You have no job, no future, and on top of it you’re butt-ugly, just like your father. And above everything else, do you know what really sticks in my craw?

You have no self-esteem. Just like your father. Whoever he is.