Bigger Stones

One of the covers I brought to my college band (the late, likely lamented, legendary Übërsphïnctër), by the late, legitimately lamented, legendary San Diego band the Beat Farmers.

Listening to it now, I hear everything that made me love it then, but I also laugh at that idiotic 21-year-old who thought he really grokked the lyrics, man.

Now I feel the pain of growin' old, I hear the voices in the rain
I see a vision of doubt that keeps rollin' through my baby's eyes
When she calls out my name each time that she complains

Seems like we rolled bigger stones back then
Seems like we rolled bigger stones

Then again, the point, as always is: it's good a good beat and you can dance to it. (Also, dig the concision: says its piece and gets out, sneering dismissively at the notion of the three and a half minute pop song.)

Happy Boy

Today's the 25th anniversary of the first date I ever went on with the goddess that is now my good lady wife.

She was and is smarter, funnier, kinder, more attractive, more patient and more talented than I, and the fact that she was at all interested in me was then, as now, a subject of considerable confusion amongst those who know both of us. The truth is, it was one thing and one thing only that enabled me to win her heart:

My solo rendition of this sweetest of all songs.

Hubba hubba hubba hubba hubba.