Let’s talk about the word ‘classic’

I hate KIOA.

When I turn to 93.3 in the car — which I rarely do anymore — I want to hear the Monkees, not Toto.

Whoever decided that Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show was somehow better than Paul Revere and the Raiders should be made to suffer, cruelly and unusually.

Give me Simon & Garfunkel. I’ll even take Jon & Robin (and their one hit) or, in a pinch, Jan & Dean.

So why am I only hearing Hall & Oates?

And who’s actually nostalgic for Captain & Tennille?! Being nostalgic for Captain & Tennille is like getting all sentimental about lead paint or asbestos or Watergate or the Manson Family murders.

Dic Youngs totally died when the dying was good, because KIOA is unlistenable anymore.

We’ve had a paradigm shift in this country in recent years regarding the definition of “classic.”

I’m only 38, so I’m probably in the minority here, but I’m a firm believer that the word “classic” should only be applied to things — a song, a movie, a TV show, a cartoon series, whatever — that are worthy of the title.

The mere passage of time does not make something “classic,” as KIOA now believes, just as age doesn’t make all old people “elders.”

An elder is a person we can learn from.

They’re of an advanced age, yes, but an elder is less likely to step on the gas when they actually mean to step on the brake in front of a downtown store. Otherwise, they’re an old person.

A “classic” song or a “classic” movie isn’t necessarily just something you remember from childhood. It’s a title that should be reserved for the best of the best.

If KIOA only played “Good Vibrations” back-to-back-to-back-to-back, they’d have no beef with me.

The moment you interrupt with “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is where things go all FUBAR.

Basically, all this has been a long, drawn-out way of saying I’m really picky about the classics.

So when the Sierra Community Theatre recently announced plans to undertake a “Classics Week” fundraiser, I naively thought, “Wow! I never, ever thought I’d get to see a Kurosawa film on the same screen where I saw ‘Short Circuit.’ ”

Any effort to raise money for the Sierra — the community treasure that it is — is a noble one, and I’ll support it. (And I did, in fact, support Classics Week, both with my patronage and with publicity leading up to it last week.)

But when the three-movie lineup was announced — “Gone With the Wind,” “The Goonies” and “Raiders of the Lost Ark” — I instinctively thought, “Hey, one classic and two ’80s movies!”

Go ahead. Call me an unsentimental jerk — I mean, I saw “The Goonies” the first time around at the Sierra in 1985 — but me thinks we’re playing fast and loose with the definition of “classic.” Either that, or the definition has just changed.

In my bizarre mind, a classic is still “The Adventures of Robin Hood” starring Errol Flynn.

Or “Psycho.” (Yes, the original; no, not that remake.)

It’s neither “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” nor “The Breakfast Club.”

They’re cool movies, and they evoke a different era, but that’s what WGN is for.

Then again, it’s probably just me. I mean, I fully admit I’m weird.

In high school in the ’90s, I persuaded my parents to take me to see Chuck Berry at the Iowa State Fair (presented by KIOA and Dic Youngs, no less). My classmates all went to Lollapalooza.

In college, guys would want to pop a “classic” in the VCR, and what they actually meant was “Animal House” or “Caddyshack.” I was always sorta hoping for an evening of Charlie Chaplin one-reelers.

So am I just a snob?

If that’s what you want to call it.

Keep in mind, though, I’m writing all this while wearing a pair of slip-on Vans emblazoned with characters from “The Empire Strikes Back” on them.

At home, I collect “Godzilla” posters.

So is “Star Wars,” then, a classic? I’d say it’s pretty close.

But someday, the poor, unfortunate, misguided kid who grew up with “The Phantom Menace” is going to remember that as a “classic,” too. God help ’em.

Really, though, what do I know?

It turns out, of all three movies shown during Classics Week at the Sierra, “The Goonies” drew the best crowds.

As Brian Wilson once sang on “Pet Sounds,” I just wasn’t made for these times.