The Boom Box.  The Ghetto Blaster.  The Radio.  Whatever you choose to call it, just know you are talking about an essential ingredient to any successful childhood.  Where would we be without endless summers spent in the grass, listening to tapes in the late 80’s throughout the 90’s?  In an age where the number 2 pencil wasn’t merely a tool for bathroom graffiti and pencil fighting, but a instrument we mastered to restore the life force of our maxell dubs when the ribbon went astray.  Back when the human attention span was 30 min on one side and 30 on the other, we learned the art of patience and appreciation for complete albums, opposed to 1:30 seconds of z-share leaks.  We eventually grew up, and as technology evolved the the patient ear digressed, becoming almost as extinct as the cassette.  

Nowadays it is rare to come across a decent Boom Box worth taking pictures of, much less paying the ridiculous price tags that accompany them.  Here are a couple I came across when down in Portland.  I threw a karaoke machine and a couple radio’s that were before my time, to even out the post and pay respect to old people.  Word is bond.