Punk’s Not Dead — It Just Has a Mortgage Now

 When I was a kid, I thought adults had it all wrong. Ties? Cubicles? Early bedtimes? No thanks. I swore I'd stay wild forever, sneer firmly in place, middle finger raised at anything that even smelled like "normal."

Fast forward a couple decades, and here I am — a little more creaky, a lot more caffeinated — but guess what? Still punk. Just with slightly better dental insurance.

Punk isn’t about age. It’s not about how many tattoos you can cram onto one bicep (though shoutout to anyone still adding to their sleeve at 50). Punk is about refusing to roll over and accept a life you don’t believe in. It’s about making noise, whether you’re thrashing in a garage band or just refusing to let life dull your sharp edges.

Sure, I yell at clouds now and think 9:30 PM is a wild bedtime. But I still crank The Clash at full volume. I still refuse to take crap from people who think “growing up” means giving up who you are. I still believe in loud music, cheap coffee, DIY everything, and giving the finger to conformity.

So if you’re reading this and wondering if you’re “too old” for punk — newsflash:
You’re not. You’re exactly what punk looks like now.
Wrinkles, gray hair, orthopedic sneakers and all. Own it.

Because at the end of the day:
Punk’s not just a sound. It’s a stubborn, glorious refusal.
And my dad (and probably yours) is still living proof.

Stay loud, stay weird,
- M.D.S.P.