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The Ramones taught both of my kids how to count to four.

They could each out-Dee Dee Dee Dee by the time they were two, barking “1-2-3-4!” with possessed self-possession. It gave them great confidence.

Because, after all, once you’ve got the linear locomotion of counting down, going beyond four is really just rote academics—it’s simply a matter of learning more numbers.

Now there’s nothing wrong with learning more numbers. But being proud of it and showing off that you can count to 130, well that’s for proggers. Fuck that.

This aesthetic of concision was married to an aesthetic of inclusion, best exemplified in the Freaks-biting Pinhead: “We accept you, one of us, one of us.”

This is the essential chemistry that makes The Ramones a national treasure.

They stuck around long enough to turn the burnout/etc cycle into a rondelet, as their haiku became bloated and distended.

Then within the span of four years Joey, Dee Dee, and Johnny were gone, inserting a touch of classical tragedy.

But thanks to The Ramones, losers, loners, glue-sniffers, medicine-cabinet rouletters, and basement dwellers will always have someone there to accept them, someone to teach them how to count to four…