Culture and the ilk

What an odd weekend. The internet has substantiated memory. At least, I went out to see internet connected persons, spent two days in Phoenicia, NY and not only experienced several strange coincidences (why would Claude, the owner of the bar where a gig with a former neighbour of mine was happening, have to have gone to school on the street where my son was born in Paris?
Then I find - maybe - a version of a former housemate's album, lost in time, on a blog. Not striictly a coincidence, but rare.
Thinking about 1980-82 for me is like an old hippie daydreaming of 1967. dangerous.
so here's the d-i-y handmade cover of the egg store ilk from 1981. made upstairs from meself in Stoke Newington in a time of great solidarity and happiness... which seems, appropriately enough, to have come back into the psyche right now with enough force to be of great use in current struggles. Click on the title and scroll down for personal anecdote.
I guess that is what is meant by culture.

Not

Imagine our surprise, on opening our eyes.
Now, you all (y'all) may have the mistaken impression that I am a nice type of guy, in which, generally, you are not mistaken. But...
there are limits, and as General de gaulle once said, 'No gentleman is ever vulgar unintentionally'.
I won't sully this post with such words, they are much better uttered in the heat of the moment off a fluid tongue.
Are they (all) having a larf?! A good few people need slapping upside the head.
This show is NOT going on ebay and nor is it becoming a quiet and quaint little cosmetic diversion. There's a point to Indie and teeth, too.
Time to start biting (hands that feed), I guess.