Thursday, September 11, 2008


Back in the day, when I was an employee of an independent music store, instead of helping customers or restocking shelves or even bothering to dust the oodles of filthy old jewel cases that sat out in the bins, my coworkers and I would stand around behind the counter and wax philosophical on just how incredibly genius rock was, and, in turn, how genius we were that we could make such observations.

The subject of today's blog comes courtesy of Diana, thank goodness for her keen internet-news eye. It reminds me of those carefree days of my youth as music store manager. And quite honestly, after the day I've had, I really needed the laugh.

Two Minutes and 42 Seconds in Heaven

Just go read it already.

Or don't.

Whatever you do, for crying out loud, stop sending me photographs of the Twin Towers going down in the fiery blazes of hell. I watched them, on a loop, for 2 full weeks on TV 7 years ago. Those are images this tiny, albeit sentimental, pea brain of mine would rather not retain.


  1. That guy is sort of my new hero. Thank you for that.

  2. I know, huh? He's hysterical.