Advice King: Surviving Thanksgiving With Family

Comedian, musician, host of Chris Crofton's Advice King Podcast and former Nashvillian Chris Crofton asked the Scene for an advice column, so we gave him one. Crowning himself the “Advice King,” Crofton will share his hard-won wisdom with whosoever seeks it. Follow Crofton on Facebook and Twitter, and to submit a question for the Advice King, email bestofbread[at]gmail[dot]com or editor[at]nashvillescene[dot]com.

Dear Advice King,

I’m an indie-rock musician, and I’m going home for Thanksgiving. How do I deal with relatives who take it upon themselves to offer me career advice? I’m not on TV all the time like Gwen Stefani, so they think I’m a failure. I’m actually doing fine, and supporting myself by playing music — which is a monumental achievement in 2019! I should be welcomed as a hero! Instead, I have to listen to my arrogant, sexist, 70-something Uncle Bob give me suggestions for song topics, and ask me why I don’t try to “go on The Voice.” He’s a bricklayer. 

How can I survive Thanksgiving without committing a murder?

—Singing for my Supper in Nashville

  1. Bricklayers are the best songwriters — obviously. Why else would they be bricklayers? 
  2. All of Gwen Stefani’s songs are about bricklaying, in case you haven’t noticed.
  3. One of the world’s most popular music genres is R&B — Rhythm and Bricks.
  4. The song “Brick House” is about bricks. And the Three Little Pigs. And sex. I think. I’ve never been entirely sure, but my point is that it was a huge hit. I’m pretty sure it’s about the three little pigs having sex in “the brick house” (the other two houses having been blown down). 

One thing you could do when your uncle tells you to audition for The Voice is say, “OK, boomer.” I don’t know what this phrase means, but it apparently makes old people angry, which is great. I think it’s supposed to be like you’re calling them a dog named “Boomer.” Like, “Great idea, I’m totally gonna do that thing that you, a dog, told me to do.”*

OK, I’m going to stop hacking around. Old motherfuckers have a tendency to forget that the WORLD HAS FUCKING CHANGED since they were sitting around the soda shop in 1957. And that it is NEVER GOING BACK, no matter how many idiots they elect or walls they build. In 2019, THE YEAR IN WHICH WE ARE CURRENTLY LIVING, you cannot simply write a great song about bricklaying — like, for example, Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock” — take the money you made from your chartbusting “hit,” buy a ranch house and an Oldsmobile, and live happily ever after. Why, boomer? BECAUSE NO ONE BUYS RECORDS ANYMORE. 

Records are floating around in the air now, boomer. And you can arrange to have ALL THE RECORDS EVER MADE — including 1955 bricklaying anthem “Rock Around the Clock” — delivered to your MAGIC GO-ANYWHERE HAND-SIZED FLAT PHONE for $9.99 a month. You may have noticed young people carrying around these MAGIC GO-ANYWHERE HAND-SIZED FLAT PHONES when you occasionally leave the voting booth on a break from electing tyrannical criminals that remind you of your alcoholic, authoritarian father, boomer.

That $9.99 a month does not go to the musician, by the way. It goes to billionaires. That’s where ALL the money goes in 2019, boomer. 

Musicians can, however — through a special arrangement these benevolent billionaires have made — earn upwards of $100 if people listen to their “hit” song about 850 million times. It’s kind of like a magazine drive. 

The economy is SO GOOD, though. Isn’t it, boomer?

FUN FACT, boomer: The exhaust from that fictional Oldsmobile I mentioned is melting the polar ice sheets, which will eventually (and when I say eventually, I mean in about 30 years — just because your old dog ass refuses to accept it, doesn’t mean it isn’t happening) raise the sea level to the point where all the jukeboxes and soda shops in the world will be underwater. 

Ask your uncle what he’s gonna do when Spotify figures out how to lay bricks.


*In case you think I’m a fucking idiot, I know what the “boomer” in “OK boomer” actually refers to. I know it’s because old people like fireworks, and fireworks go “boom.”

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