Until Kim found those scratchy 1910 Fruitgum Company records, she was a mope who skulked around wondering where the fun went.
Bubblegum changed our lives-and for the better. Trust us, we know what we’re talking about. But not quite as good as the stuff some cynical New Yorkers made in ’68 and ’69, when bubblegum first reared its ugly pink head and snared a million ears. Why be ashamed of falling for the calculated pap they make in the Swedish hit factories? It’s GOOD. Big deal, so you’re a sucker for the kind of sleek pop trash that oozes out of minivan radios, hooks a thousand kiddy-barbed claws into your cerebellum and injects its terminal catchiness deep inside, where it will remain long after the grandkids plant your drooling ass in front of a Leisure World window.
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