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AC/DC

I’ve always liked AC/DC, like most.  They play simple, hard, effective rock.  I have three of their albums.

Whenever they got big, I was in junior high, and I recall someone telling me that one of the Young’s–maybe both–dressed up as schoolboys, with the hats, and shorts, and sweaters, with the salient different that the back of their pants was cut out.  They would regularly moon the audience, I heard.  Crazy stuff.  Hard rock and roll.

But it occurred to me today that a schoolboy with his pants cut out would be to a homosexual pedophile roughly what Brittany Spears in her bubble-gum phase was to creepy old men.  From what I read, 13-14 year old boys are a routine fantasy for many older homosexuals. That was definitely the age the Spartans recruited their boys, and they were each assigned to one older man, with whom homosexual contact presumably occurred [not topical, but it is interesting that when the Thebans finally defeated the Spartans, it was with a modified line, with a salient–on the right, if memory serves–filled with 150 pairs of homosexual lovers, called the Sacred Band, again if memory serves.  They were their best fighters, and the idea was that they would turn the corner, and enable a flanking maneuver, which they did.  Alexander later used this technique, albeit not with a Sacred Band.]

Think this through, look at it from that perspective.  It is completely foreign to me, but does the logic not stand?

It has always made sense to me that AC/DC was a reference to bisexuality, but it never occurred to me what was actually being presented on stage.

What this means, what message they were trying to communicate, I don’t know, and they may not have known themselves.

My point here is that it is so hard to see what is in front of you.  As usual, Mary Poppins has this spot on. 

Granted, that was an odd segue.

Read this lyric, and ponder it, if you never have:

You got problems in your life of love
You got a broken heart
He’s double dealin’ with your best friend
That’s when the teardrops star fella
Pick up the phone, I’m here alone
Or make a social call
Come right in, forget ’bout him
We’ll have ourselves a ball hey