My sixty-six year old Midwestern father had a very hard time understand Hamilton.
"Why is Hamilton rapping?"
"Because Lin Manuel Miranda is a rapper, Dad."
"I thought this was Broadway."
"It is Broadway."
"Okay, but this isn't a show tune."
"No, it's a hip-hop musical."

"I don't know what a hip-hop musical is."
"You can watch and find out."
"It's not very historical."
"Well, it wouldn't be historical the Founding Fathers singing show tunes either, would it?"
Just that for three hours over two nights because Dad goes to bed at eight-thirty.

"Why does he have an English accent? This is about America."
"Because he's very obviously King George III."
*sip of beer* "I guess that makes sense."

Approximately every forty seconds
"Did that actually happen?"
"Okay, but the winds actually changed at the siege of New York and prevented the British troops from landing. Why didn't they rap about that?"
"Did that actually happen?"
"Hamilton didn't *have an affair.*" (He did).

I think a much more successful Hamilton delivery device would have just been buying the Chernow biography and reading aloud from it every night until my dad went to bed.

I can already today is going to be a big day of hearing from people who are in their 60s and from the Midwest and what do I have against seniors from the Midwest? Nothing. My dad is insane. Not all Midwestern seniors. But my dad is.