DAUGHTER:
Dad, I looked through all those things you gave me, and it looked like nothing but heavy metal and Pink Floyd.

ME:
They're called CD's, and they're all yours, hon.

DAUGHTER:
Thanks, but do you have anything good?

ME:
Hey, those songs got me through high school.

DAUGHTER:
But they're all real intense. I'm more into [insert band name here].

ME:
What?

DAUGHTER:
[insert band name here].

ME:
That's the actual name of a band? With the brackets and everything?

DAUGHTER:
Yeah. They're real meta. They write songs about other songs. They have a YouTube video about making a YouTube video about a band that refuses to make videos at all.

ME:
Is that last band called Pearl Jam?

DAUGHTER:
You've heard of them?

ME:
Kind of. How do you feel when you listen to [insert band name here]?

DAUGHTER:
I don't know.

ME:
What do you mean you don't know?

DAUGHTER:
It's just music, Dad.

ME:
Just music? Just music isn't worth listening to. What's gonna happen when you get let down by your first boyfriend? Is meta-just-music gonna get you through that? No. You put on Wish You Were Here and you cry your face off. And what about when you get yelled at at work for folding the shirts wrong? That's when you put on Pantera and hate yourself back to happiness.

DAUGHTER:
I don't wanna hate. I wanna chill and relax and have fun.

ME:
No. Good music is about hate.

DAUGHTER:
Well, what am I supposed to hate?

ME:
Everything. Your school, your teachers, your parents.

DAUGHTER:
But you and Mom are good to me. Mom got me that bike, and you play Zelda with me.

ME:
You haven't told your mom about Zelda have you?

DAUGHTER:
Oh no.

ME:
Good. But what about that time I grounded you and took your bike away for a month? Didn't you hate me then?

DAUGHTER:
But I messed up. I stayed out past dark and didn't tell you where I was going. I deserved it.

ME:
Oh, god. What have I done wrong?

DAUGHTER:
You haven't done anything wrong. You're a great dad.

ME:
But I hated my father. And he hated his father. That's the only heirloom I have to give you.

DAUGHTER:
Well, what if I hate stuff that really deserves it?

ME:
Like what?

DAUGHTER:
Um... How about when your Cookie Crisp gets real soggy? Man, I hate soggy cereal. I hate it so much.

ME:
No, you can't really focus the awesomeness of Henry Rollins on something as mundane as soggy cereal.

DAUGHTER:
Okay, how about dark matter? It's 90% of the universe, and we don't even know what it is. Damn you, dark matter. I hate you so much.

ME:
That's better, but maybe narrow it down a bit. Pick something that's big but not too big you can't get your head around.

DAUGHTER:
How about stupid people? I already hate them anyway. Now I can hate them to music.

ME:
That's perfect. Henry Rollins would be proud of you.

DAUGHTER:
What about you, Dad?

ME:
I'm proud of you for hating soggy cereal. Hey, you haven't told your mom that we eat Cookie Crisp when she's at work have you?

DAUGHTER:
Oh no.

ME:
Good. Well, do you think you can like your old man's music just a little?

DAUGHTER:
I'll try.

ME:
Fair enough.

DAUGHTER:
Hey, Dad, what about The Beatles? They're all about love, and they made good music.

ME:
How do you know about The Beatles?

DAUGHTER:
Mom gave me some of their stuff. She told me not to tell you.

ME:
Oh.