And so the Time Machine has taken me to the year of 1955. What a strange year. All the little boys are wearing coonskin caps and trying to shoot me with their guns. Women are on this tube thing they call television selling these iceboxes they call refrigerators. And they’re showing their ankles- how scandalous!

Everybody likes Ike, whoever he is. They don’t like Dick, though. Some people say he’s a real… hey! The Food Fair has kumquats at half price this week, cool!

I watch some show on this television that’s on at, well, the television shop. All these weirdos are wearing mouse ears and singing and spelling M-I-C-K-E-Y, then they misspell moose. Do they even have schools here? They also have some show called Dragnet, but I don’t see anyone smoking. They sell cigarettes though; did you know four out of five doctors recommend Lucky Strikes? I guess the fifth doctor died of lung cancer cause he didn’t smoke.

The talking dog is making me listen to the music of 1955. He straps me to this chair and keeps my eyes open. He says he saw this technique in a movie he’ll see in 1971. "But, talking dog,” I ask, “why do you need to pry my eyes open if I only have to listen to music?”

“Good point,” the talking dog says. He removes the clothespins from my eyes and plays some Julie London record. They say she’s a torch queen. I guess that means she sets things on fire. In fact, the talking dog plays all sorts of records that I need to rank. He gives me a break this year though- I only have to rank the top fifteen this year because very few people recorded albums this year. I won’t have to do a top twenty five for another two years.

“Wait,” I ask, “ How long do I have to do this top twenty-five thingy?”

“Oh, not long, just until the apocalypse or 2018, whatever comes first.”

Well, that’s a relief. With these new nuclear thingies the US and Russia have now, the Apocalypse should happen real soon. I’m predicting 1962 myself.

Okay, so the talking dog has me listening to all these albums. I’ll have my first list up this coming Monday… maybe. So stay tuned.

And keep your paws off me, Lassie!