And I'm 38, I Can't Believe I've Got To Worry About This Kind Of Shit.

There were always going to be a lot of horrible things about the Propagandhi shows over the weekend, but the band was never going to be one of them. Now, because everyone should already be aware of the horrible, and because everyone should also be aware that these punk rock survivors put on one hell of a show, I'm instead going to provide a bunch of unexpected highlights from last night's show.

• Knowing that a whole bunch of people got in for free by drawing the stamp on their wrists with a sharpie.
• Seeing the majority of Melbourne's punk scene from 1997.
• Todd Kowalski (Spelling? Who knows?) rocking out, as per usual, but trying desperately to stop himself from singing along, his voice blown out by the recording process three months ago.
• Folks in the crowd chanting the intro to a new song, then being accused of stealing the new album by an amused Chris Hannah.
• Drunk morons in the crowd cheering wildly at a mention of Charles Darwin's birthday. I mean, I like Darwin too, but I'm not sure that the commemoration of his birth warrants a "Woo-Hoo!"
• Chris again thanking the crowd for coming to see a bunch of 38 year old men dressed like 14 year olds.
• More banter from the band in general. Not too much the previous night.
• Looking over to my right and seeing a bunch of douchebag goons trying to start a circle pit, then looking over to my left and seeing a couple with their eyes closed, embracing each other, quietly intimate.
• The sweet Submission Hold patch Tara gave me after the show.
• Riding home through the quiet city, ears ringing, Purina Hall of Fame stuck in my head.