CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE: WHO'S THAT IN LEATHER VEST & WHITE BUCKS?

I came home from work the other night, tired after a hard day of newspapering and started channel-flipping. I hadn't flipped too far when I came across an old guy in black leather singing "Smoke on the Water."

The cat and I were making disparaging remarks about aging rock stars who should just retire their leather vests and get on with their lives when I realized who I was seeing.

It was Pat Boone.

Mr. "Love Letters in the Sand." Mr. Golf Sweaters and White Bucks.

Mr. Tattoos and Black Leather?

Debbie must be so embarrassed.

I didn't notice if anything was pierced. I'm afraid to look anymore.

Now, like everyone else on the planet, I was aware that Pat has released an album of heavy metal covers. I believe it's called "In a Metal Mood: No More Mr. Nice Guy," referring, of course, to that Alice Cooper song.

And I caught a glimpse of him on some awards show, decked out in full leather. It just never occurred to me that he'd actually perform those songs in public. It's a marketing ploy. Nobody comes through on a marketing ploy.

Hornswoggled again. I was wrong. There he was on Letterman or Leno (I was too stunned to notice which channel I was on, and I flipped past before the host could come out) crooning (he wasn't screaming, he wasn't shouting, he wasn't even sweating) the old Deep Purple song.

Pat Boone. Deep Purple. Does anyone else have a problem with that?

My parents listened to Pat Boone. They didn't listen to Deep Purple. They wouldn't allow Deep Purple in the house.

I bet Pat wouldn't let Debbie listen to Deep Purple when she was growing up. That's probably why she did "You Light Up My Life." She just didn't know any better.

It's not as if there aren't a lot of older rockers out there. Rod Stewart's over 50, but he's sort of switched to sappy love ballads. Tina Turner's pushing 60, and she's wonderful.

All of the Rolling Stones are over 50, and they're still doing their slightly sleazy thing.

I guess I can't complain too much about Pat Boone in a leather vest. Keith Richards has always been pretty scary.

I've never been a big metal fan. I always preferred pseudo-metal pop. Big-hair bands. Bon Jovi. Journey. Def Leppard.

I like rock, I like pop, I like jazz. I like some country (not-too-twangy girl country, like Mary Chapin Carpenter and Trisha Yearwood). I like classical. Opera gives me a headache.

I don't like whiny alternative music. There's something unsettling about 19-year-olds with more money than God who all sing about how awful life is. Hard-rockers were also once 19-year-olds with more money than God, but at least they made it sound like fun.

It's hard to be bitter when you're rich. Bob Dylan said that. Now his son has his own band. I like The Wallflowers. They're on key, and I can understand what they're saying.

God, I'm old.

Maybe I should drag out my parents' old Pat Boone albums.

Or maybe I'll just wait for Debbie Boone's tribute album to Courtney Love.

Peggy O'Farrell is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.