Youth Culture Killed My Dog.

I remember when Wes Anderson's film "Rushmore" came out. I went to see it at CityWalk, and sitting behind me was an agitated teenager, no doubt drawn in to see the film by the onslaught of MTV promotion. While the audience laughed, I would hear her whining. Sounding frustrated, she'd say to her friends, "Why are people laughing?" Of Max Fisher she said, "He so stupid" and, my favorite, "He's retarded."

Hey, god bless; she just didn't get it.

I like frozen yogurt from time to time. The no sugar, no fat, all science variety. I get it at a place I like to call "Chemical Yogurt" down on Ventura and Laurel Canyon. It's a soft serve miracle of the Space Age, and it's both delicious and inspiring. They CAN put a man on the moon and they CAN make a fine low calorie frozen desert.

So when the Pinkberry murmurings started last year, I was interested. When they opened their Studio City location (really, a shot across the bow of Chemical Yogurt--it's a mere half block away), I took it for a spin. It was sour. It had calories. It was all natural. They didn't have fake chocolate covered almonds -- they had fruit. Oh, hell no.

I just didn't get it.

So a month ago, I found myself on Larchmont with fifteen minutes to kill and a hankering for something healthy. And I saw the Village's Pinkberry. Now, this time, I knew what I was getting into; I was going to have some stuff that tasted like frozen actual yogurt and I was only going to be able to top it with something that grew naturally on Earth. I got a small one, took one of the available googie seats, and enjoyed my PB thoroughly.

I guess what I'm saying is, you have to know what you're getting into. You have to be aware of the context to really enjoy new things.

In the spirit of that, could someone please explain the context of this: