I was eating my morning bagel in the local bagel shoppe, and they were playing 50s-era pop classics on the stereo. Generally, that music goes in one ear and out the other. Those songs to me are like Christmas carols, or elevator music: a discrete packet of information that I don't need to examine or respond to, cuz my brain has done that already in the past, many times

Today, though, I stopped and really listened, and was quite taken with everything I heard. The mid-tempo songs had an incredibly soothing effect, and the upbeat songs had their own brand of hysteria..."Who Wrote the Book of Love" has this thrilling, gospel-y, Township Jive feel to it that I never noticed before.

Now I'm a -listenin' to the new Grandpa Boy record, which of course is my beloved Paul Westerberg, in all his ragged glory. I'm really liking what I hear. The spirit of the record is so off-the-cuff...I dare anyone to seriously "review" this record, but I'm sure all the music rags are either gleefully ripping it apart or blathering about a "comeback" or whatever, and neither attitude really suits the spontaneous nature of this CD....

Did anyone catch Nightline last night? Excellent show... the first time I've ever really reflected on Janet Reno. I know, the rest of the world did way back during the Waco madness. At the time, I still thought she was purty cool (I dated her nephew in college and thought all the women in that family were incredibly cool) and maybe made some mistakes...But in light of the Fuster case, it's finally dawning on me that JR is a manipulative politician, and a little creepy.

"That art gives charm to terrible things is perhaps its glory, perhaps its curse."

--Iris Murdoch