Member-only story
Brandy Isn’t A Fine Girl. She’s Just Clueless
And she haunts my nightmares
“There’s a port on a western bay
And it serves a hundred ships a day
Lonely sailors pass the time away…”
— From “Brandy” by Looking Glass
I still remember it like it was yesterday. And every time I hear the opening bars of the song, I still want to run screaming from the room. Or car. Or elevator. Or whereever in the hell it is that I am at that moment.
It was 1987. I was fresh out of college and working my first journalism job at a newspaper in Independence, Missouri. I was driving a green Buick Le Sabre from, I dunno, maybe the late 1970s and all it had was a tinny, AM radio. Even in those days, AM was where music went to die. As I cruised around town, I could either listen to the all news station, the all sports station, a variety of stations all carrying the same Rush Limbaugh broadcast at different times throughout the day. Or Kansas City’s oldies station. So you can guess which one won.
