To be completely honest, I don’t remember much about the 1970s. I can’t tell if it was because of my love of recreationally imbibing laudanum or if it was because I was inexplicably a part of some time traveling hoo-ha jamboree.
The thing about time travel is that there’s no way to know how often you’ve done it. Or if you’ve done it. It’s like sex like that.
Anyway, what little I can recall of the 70s now involves Charles somehow learning to walk again. He was a very smug bipedal and he wore his facial hair like Jesus. You know Jesus, right? He’s a drug dealer down on Santa Monica boulevard. Jesus knew how to make laudanum that made me feel like I could fly and so I decided to teach myself how to fly without it. I’m determined like that.
The 1970s were also about neckerchiefs. There was a little boutique called JC Penneys in suburban Sedona that sold neckerchiefs for only $3. I often think about JC Penneys. Men need neckerchiefs like butterflies need wings: without them we are but worms.