On the chart they come and go
Powerpoints of Michelangelo

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow notes that stick to the screens
And the nudging ping of email machines
There will be time, there will be time.
To prep your deck, prep your face
For face to face, for meet and greet
There will be time to murder and create
Proposals, requirements, fly in business plans
Pats on back and pumps of hands;
Time for you and time for me
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the cooler calls for chats Re: TV.

At the reception, girls come and go
Talking of Michael and Angelo

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I care?” and “Do I care?”
The outlook is full and free time is rare
RSI dictates ergonomic chair
(They will say: “He has no can do.”)
But can do has lost its command of you
You who did for a year or two
Before The Street saw you through
Do I dare
Disturb the universe
For a minute there was a time
Impulsive words with no reverse.

Bulleted campaigns, I’ve known them all, known them all
Presented them evenings, mornings, afternoons
A life of measured milestones and plastic coffee spoons
I know projects dying with a dying fall
Executive edicts from a farther room
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase
And when I am formulated, org’d on a chart
When I’m a dotted line projected on a wall
Then how should I depart
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways
And how should I presume?

The afternoon into evening deadline is near
She works with smooth, ring-less fingers
Thoughts of dalliance malingers
Stock room rendezvous incites lust and fear
Should I, later, expose my vices
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, fantasized and prayed
Though she may lay taut across a conference table
I am no prophet, it is more than I am able.
I have seen my mortgage, marriage and career flicker
I have seen the corporate footman hold my check and snicker
and, in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it after all?
Thirty year career and this is it
Knee deep in memorandum corporate bullshit
Would it have been worthwhile
To have bitten the feeding hand with a smile?
To have squeezed that universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”
There’s more out there, you’ve been misled
You should say, this is not life at all
That is not it, at all

Grow old and grow bold
Wear the bottom of your trousers rolled
Place your integrity out of reach
Wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach
Go find the mermaids singing each to each.

With great respect this mash-up was brought to you by T.S. Eliot and his poem ‘The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock‘.

This month, OpEd’s team of writers has wrapped their legs around the phallus-cy of (un)principled sexual matters. From the breakdown of the word itself, an affair of punctuation, views on far-eastern sexual abuses of the English language and, or course, the oldest of bed-fellows: sex and politics. So grab a cup of tea or a box of tissues and enjoy our far from principled view of the world.

Next issue: antithetical

From: big_mouth@gmail.com
Subject: Covert Ops
Date: December 31, 2007 5:15:32 PM GMT-08:00
To: dan.smalls@joinrudy2008.com

Mr Smalls,
You don’t know me. Well, actually you do but I would prefer it if you didn’t. I work for the opposition. For, um, well, let’s just call her Big H. An interesting opportunity has come my way. A live wire of such stupidity; an individual who I believe can single handedly knock Miss Bossy Britches right off her perch using nothing but his own ineptitude. I am, Mr Smalls, just about to make you an offer I believe you cannot and should not refuse.

Before my offer, my bona-fides: I understand that there’s a vibrating bed in New Hampshire and I understand that you understand, intimately, that very same bed. Your wife, she does not but that cute little intern you hired last month is no stranger to the pulsating fun that can be had for 50 cents every five minutes and HE should know because HE fed enough of YOUR quarters into the coin-box. Oh dear, I wanted that to sound all clandestine, like secret agents, but it just ended up as tawdry licentiousness – ah – but that’s politics.

Face facts, your man is a colossal liability. Not one true statement has come from his lips in ten years. Are you aware he just claimed that socialized medicine in the UK leads to twice the number of prostate cancer deaths compared to the US or that he said he added 12,000 cops in NYC but really it was only 3,600? Did you know he’s been spending the last 30 years studying Islamic terrorism? Up until recently, he didn’t know this either but he still said it on the stump. But of course you’re aware of this. What kind of campaign manager would you be if you did not yank the choke chain of your master with impunity? How hard did you yank when the Bernard Kerik situation broke? Fancy Rudy’s self-appointed Police Commissioner and nominee for Secretary of Homeland Security being had up on corruption charges. That must have stung. Personally, I think he’s unelectable but one thing’s for sure, if he does go man on (wo)man with the Big H, he’ll need more than Viagra to get excited about the day. However, if my mole performs as expected, the Big H will not make it past the American Samoa primaries (Did you know they had primaries? Me neither and we’re meant to be professionals). I am prepared to leave Mr Mayor to the whim of the electorate. As for my beef with H, that’s for another day.

What’s in it for me? Cabinetry, that’s what. Not the wooden kind but the ambitious kind. A secretary of something, your choice. You’re no slouch though and I know that you’ll very soon work out I’m a political whore. I’ll save you the brain cells, this offer has also gone out to your other opponents from both sides of the house. Highest bidder wins. I have something on everybody, double indemnity insurance if you will, caveat emptor.

So, are we on, Mr Smalls? The sordid details of my plan are not important but I guarantee results. Naturally however, you will want to keep this on the down-lo so call me on this disposable cell phone (555-2356) and we’ll arrange the details.

Yours in intrigue,
BM

From: dan.smalls@joinrudy2008.com
Subject: Re: Covert Ops
Date: December 31, 2007 5:45:32 PM GMT-08:00
To: big_mouth@gmail.com

I don’t know who you are or what you want. Do not email me again!

Thompson Relocation Services Inc.
PO Box 57, Oxford, Ohio

Dear Mr. Hunterson,
We have been contracted by:

Campaign Headquarters of Hillary Rodham Clinton
United States Senate
476 Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510

To relocate you and your household to the following address:

17a D St NW
Washington, DC 20510

On the following date:

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to contact us.

From: reception@hillaryclinton.com
Subject: Office Cleaning
Date: January 9th 4:15:32 PM GMT-08:00
To: whole_office@hillaryclinton.com

Dear Office Mates,
Sorry for the late notice, I forgot to send this out yesterday but apparently it’s time for the monthly office cleaning. H said she would like to remind you that, “in the interests of avoiding another Watergate” (whatever that means), anything not locked in filing cabinets will be securely destroyed. This includes print-outs, post-it notes stuck to computer screens/telephones etc and H. says anything else you think should be destroyed (whatever that means - again!). The cleaners are here now (although they don’t look much like cleaners!)

whatever and thanks,
Julie (the temp on reception)

P.S. Some guy called Jack from the FB-something called for one of you. Wow – talk about a big gun. Sorry – can’t remember what/who he wanted so I thought I’d tack it on to the end of this email.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

CONTACT:
Tom Hunterson III
Campaign For Hillary Rodham Clinton
Hyatt Hotel
DETROIT, MI

Hillary Clinton and The Family Way

Lansing MI, January 16h 2008 - Senator Hillary Clinton today will announce her family planning strategy for the raising of families, their values and morals with our society. “We are one big family”, she will (schedule permitting) proudly declare today at a fund-raiser to be hosted by the American Democrats in Support of Democracy at the Lansing Doubletree Hotel’s Small Grand Ballroom (12.30pm - $10 a plate or whatever you can afford). The cornerstone of her policy will be reflected in her upcoming appearance on NBC’s Meet The Press: “Regardless of differences in creed or color all of our immediate family are always welcome around our dinner table.” The extension of the Clinton family to include the other Democratic candidates will be a highlight of her speech. Although her record is almost perfect and hardly needs saying, she will also put forward her views on racial tolerance within her new family unit. Senator Clinton has a long track record of being on the “right side of civil rights issues” (Barack Obama 01/14/08) and has only once hinted, and then just a little tiny inkling, at race being a factor in these closely fought primaries. In an act of solidarity with her brothers she will agree that Martin Luther King Jr is widely acknowledged as the father of the civil rights movement but would like to add as a footnote that, legally and physically it was Lyndon Baines Johnson who signed the Civil Rights Act into legislation so technically he is, if not the father, then probably a close uncle or perhaps the stepfather of the whole struggle. It is all about family she will reiterate and to prove it, Bill Clinton is also supporting his wife and brothers by calling into many African American radio talk shows this week to give big respect for Senator Obama. “You know the happenin’s, homies just yappin’.” commented the Rev. Al Sharpton.

From: wade.campbell@hillaryclinton.com
Subject: Pure F’ing genius
Date: January 17, 2008 2:10:32 PM GMT+08:00
To: jenny.block@hillaryclinton.com

Hey J-O-T-B
Who’s the genius we sent to Michigan? No, I’m serious, that guy is amazing. His press release is a stroke of the finest political engineering ever. BC is in. He was so outraged by the whole Obama thing and motivated by that press release he’s going to stump for Hillary. She doesn’t even have to turn up in South Carolina, BC is going to do it for her. Man, now Obama is going to have to run against both of ‘em. The beast with two backs. I fucking love it.

W.

P.S. Somehow we missed each other in New Hamp. Shame - that vibrating bed was calling our name.

to be continued…

Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton
United States Senate
476 Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510

December 27th 2007

Dear Senator Clinton,
The other day, whilst perusing the Internet, I happened upon your advertisement on monster.com looking for (and I quote), “eager young things for eager young work”. I am such an eager young thing. But, before I proceed to extol my virtues upon you, permit me a brief word of introduction: I am Tom Hunterson III. You may recognize the name from my father, Tom Hunterson II (or Junior as we sometimes lovingly called him). He once served my grandfather, his father, on the city council of Dayton, Ohio. Now, lest you think Google has let you down, I am at pains to point out my Grandfather was not the original Tom Hunterson. To this day it remains a family mystery who was the originally monikered patriarch and, indeed, why my own father should be suffixed with such a mathematical conundrum. But by the time it was my turn for the baptismal font, Junior was insistent there be a contiguous lineage and it was easier to increment rather than to decrement. And so, here I am, a III, or three, or third without a first. But hey – we all do the best with what we are given.

You may be wondering just what on the big Man’s green earth I’m doing so far into a cover letter without having yet stated my value proposition to you and your enlightened campaign. Firstly, as you have read, my family has a long and proud history in politics, albeit at the minutiae level. But before you look downwards on such humble beginnings I respectfully point out that the United States, with the exception of those under 18, felons and the retarded, comprises of approximately 260 million voting minutiae(s). As Helen Keller (herself, severely impaired but I believe quite sound of mind) once said: “The million little things that drop into your hands, The small opportunities each day brings, He leaves us free to use or abuse, And goes unchanging along His silent way”. Substitute He for She and His for Hers, then feel “free to use or abuse” me in your desire to be President of these here United States.

No doubt you read my letterhead. Yes, it is indeed the very same University that Benjamin Harrison, our 23rd President, attended. And yes, once again, you are right in deducing I belong to the very same fraternity. I come from good stock, Senator, stock that knows its way around the political stud farm and, best yet, I’m a young Democratic colt with a glint in his eye and fire in his loins. And you, Senator, are no mare but a political filly, galloping through the halls of Our Nation’s Capitol. I stand before you, gently foaming and freshly pastured as a graduate of Political Science here at good Ole Miami U. My final thesis was entitled “Political Systems in Global Soft Fruit Production” but unfortunately and in the full interests of disclosure, was not received with the roar of approval I was expecting. It was more of an uproar but, with a winning smile and a ‘can do’ attitude I plucked a respectable 1.7 GPA delicately from the gaping jaws of certain failure. I mention this, as I say, in the interests of honesty (“The time has come for an honest government in the United States of America” - Richard Nixon, accepting his party’s nomination for President, August 8th 1968) and also because I believe winning smiles, ‘can-do’ attitudes and a fighting spirit to be the most important attributes of a campaign. Grades are for bean-counters, actions are for politicians, wouldn’t you agree?

And with that parting salvo, I eagerly await a call from your staff to arrange the transfer of my belongings from the hallowed halls of Phi Delta Theta, directly and tout de suite, to the legendary campaign HQ of our next President. Out with Bush II and in with Clinton II says Hunterson III.

Kind Regards,
Tom Hunterson III

From: wade.campbell@hillaryclinton.com
Subject: WHAT!!
Date: December 31, 2007 4:07:32 PM GMT+08:00
To: jenny.block@hillaryclinton.com

Hey Jenny On The Block,
Check out this fruitcake. Please reply with usual form letter and probably best to let Jack over at the Feds know we have a wild one. I’m sure he’d appreciate the paperwork. Oh – we didn’t post job offers on monster.com did we?

W.

P.S. Man, you must be getting tired of the whole Jenny On The Block thing by now.

P.P.S. Are you going to New Hampshire? I know a nice hotel where the bed vibrates – interested?

From: jenny.block@hillaryclinton.com
Subject: Fwd: WHAT!!
Date: December 31, 2007 4:15:32 PM GMT+08:00
To: katy.winner@hillaryclinton.com

Katy,

W’s being a f**king creep again.

Hey – send out the usual to Boozo The Third (or whatever his name is), thank him for his interest, suggest website etc etc. Oh – and ask him for a contribution but if he does fork over any money change his name in the system just in case he ends up going yippee-eye-oh on us - we shouldn’t have a paper trail. Best to delete this email too.

Do you know Jack over at the FBI? I hear his gun is pretty big.

J.B.

To Be Continued…

All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.
- Sun Tzu, the Art of War

Q. Who invented Rock’n'Roll, the Americans or the British?
A. Who cares?

Q. Who were better, The Beatles or The Stones?
A. Does anyone give a toss?

Q. Were The Police actually any good?
A. I’ve absolutely no idea.

But… I do care, I do give a toss and I most certainly do have opinion concerning the musical quality of The Police,“ or at least it’s my calling to sound like I do. You see, I am a master debater (!), an aficionado of oratory discourse and, most of all, a belligerent SOB who will argue with you for days about musical topics I neither know nothing of nor care anything about. I do it for nothing more than sport. Over the years I have honed my oratory skill, as an ancient warrior would practice his swordsmanship. I can block, parry, feign and attack with equal skill and grace but I tire of the warrior’s life so beginning this very day I am training an apprentice. So, run to the bar, grab another pitcher and prepare yourself for your training in musical debates of the most pointless order.

I have a few rules. Firstly, I will never make the first move. I will never ask the question that starts the battle. As Sun Tzu says, He who wishes to fight must first count the cost. As I say, There’s no fun in being the spider to the fly; be the fly who derives perverse pleasure from ripping the legs, one by one, from its opponent. (Don’t worry, you’re a spider, they’ll grow back). So please, choose a weapon and pick a topic:

Have you heard the new Dashboard Confessional album? Man, I think it’s great.

Stop! What kind of conversation opener is that? It is wrong on so many levels. For starters, the question has nowhere to go. If I were in a good mood I’d probably answer:

I can’t say I have. Dashboard Confessional is a band I’ve not really explored fully. Thanks for the tip, I’ll check it out.

But most probably I’ll answer in a way most befitting the quality of the question:

No and I probably won’t. I find them tiresome and mundane.

I would then feel bad about being rude so the best I could add would be a consolatory Sorry leaving it ambiguous as to if I’m sorry for not liking them or if I’m sorry for you for liking them. In any case, the conversation is over, you have no way to recover. Sure, you could try:

Oh, well I think they’re great.

But now you’re just trying to get the last word in, you are off balance and your weapon is down. I’ll let you stumble harmlessly past me, I don’t need to defend my position on Dashboard Confessional but apparently you do.

Let’s go back and regroup. As a point of personal safety, you need to divorce yourself from the outcome of the conversation. This is especially important if you suspect you may actually loose a leg or two in the upcoming battle. Try again:

I hear the new Dashboard Confessional album is getting great reviews from the press and the public.

Bravo. This is almost a good opening salvo. Note how you have removed yourself from the question, no longer is it your opinion but now it’s the opinion of others and others can be wrong without jeopardizing your standing or credibility in the whole matter. I also like your inclusion of both the press and public, both can be wrong but rarely at the same time. If you play your cards right you’ll end up siding with the winning army one way or another. Now you’re just missing a point of contention, a relatively controversial counterpoint that will act as the bait. If you know your opponent well enough pick something that may induce a choking fit on the upcoming swallow of beer. Give it another go:

I hear the new Dashboard Confessional album is getting great reviews from the press and the public. Some even say it’s even better than Television’s first album.

Whoa there. That’s quite a gamble you’ve made with that last statement. I’m no slouch when it comes to Tom Verlaine but such a reference coming out of left field puts me on my guard. Either you know a lot about Television, potentially more than I do which will never do, or you know diddly about them and you’re relying on a snippet of information gleaned from an overheard conversation during yesterday’s bus ride into work. I smell a trap and I’m not taking the bait:

Really,“ I haven’t heard the new Dashboard record, I thought only 15 year old pubescently frustrated dudes liked them. I owned Marquee Moon years ago on vinyl but it was stolen by one of my ex-girlfriends. She took a whole bunch of records and even stole my favorite snowboard. Man, that was a good ride, I’ve never found a board to replace it.

Bam! Thwak! Cracka! Notice how I just took you down? In three sentences I compared you to a sexually inept teenager, stated I’m so much cooler than you could ever be because I owned the record (on vinyl no less) probably years before you knew who Television were, I’ve had multiple girlfriends (of which at least one was credibly psycho) and I snowboard and have done at least as long as owning that record. Finally, like all good warriors I parried your blow and sent you off in an opposite direction by changing the subject away from music to snow sports. But this isn’t war; it’s a training exercise so I’ll give you another chance:

I hear the new Dashboard Confessional album is getting great reviews from the press and the public. Some even say it’s the finest record of the last ten years and could possibly define our generation.

Nice. Now we’re starting a conversation. I like the open ended last statement. It’s impersonal and leaves room for a great volley back and forth. Here we go, I respond:

Obviously its not the finest record of the last ten years, how could it be? I could name five better ones from last year off the top of my head. And obviously it isn’t going to define our generation. What generation was ever defined solely by music?

Now, I’m trying hard to be a good master to you, my apprentice, so before I let you respond I’m going to give you a few pointers to my strategy. Firstly, it’s obvious I’ve not listened to the record. If I had I would have name-dropped at least the first single off the CD. Secondly, notice how I’m trying to change the subject ever so slightly by offering to name five good releases from last year. Probably five releases I know something about and I’ll make at least four of them albums I know you’ve never heard. And finally, observe my contingency plan (in case of emergency, break glass). I’m going to lure you into some stupid conversation about generations and music from which we’ll inevitably end up at the late sixties and then we’ll have to mention Bob Dylan and I know lots and lots about Bob Dylan because I’ve just finished reading his new autobiography. (Oh, and I know you haven’t, you would have told me earlier because you know I like Bob Dylan.) As Mr. Sun Tzu said, If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

Admittedly, that’s a lot to come at a new student with but I feel you can attempt a decent block and counter:

Really, what five albums would you say are better?

BAMM! I was wrong. That’s you on the floor, your nose bleeding and a dull ache from the kidneys you’ll be peeing blood from later tonight. Damn, I’m good. And with that, my little sparrow, your lesson for today draws to its unfortunate but inevitable conclusion. I’ll leave you with this from Master Tzu:

The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him.

And from me, his most humble student, I offer this:

The Americans invented it and the British perfected it, The Beatles because they will never reform and ruin a good thing and I really want to like them but the first couple of records sound sonically really bad, and I just can’t get over that.

1) Concepts find themselves
Thinking of a “neat” concept up-front invariably leads to strained or woefully predictable selections. For example, a playlist called “Cool Hip Hop from Orlando” will soon run dry and loose it’s direction as your knowledge of the underground scene in Orlando starts to dwindle. Then you’ll be forced to add artists from Kissimmee or butt-rock musicians from Orlando’s suburbs who once semi (and probably badly) rapped in the middle section in one of their songs. In either case, your concept let you down. Inevitably, the concept will widen until you’re left with just “Cool Hip Hop”. Now you are in a world of hurt. Who are you to say who is cool and who isn’t? Undoubtedly you’ll muck it up, miss say The Last Poets or Run DMC and then you’ll loose the respect of everyone and be cast into bad peer rating purgatory.

Concepts find themselves. They live in the moment and are part of the energy created as you start to sequence songs together. Begin by playing DJ. Practice at home, quietly and without upsetting your neighbors. Pick a track, any track and play it. You now have about three and half minutes to find another track that in some way is complimentary or juxtaposed with the track playing. Quick now, last thing you want is dead air. As soon as you have track two playing move track one somewhere safe, you’ll need it again later. Now again, run to your CD rack/computer/vinyl pile and pick track three. It has to work with track two and echo track one. Track four can forget all about track one but has to be responsible for moving the set forward in a direction. The direction? Well, by now a direction is finding itself because with just three and a half minutes to make selections the emotional part of your brain has wrestled control from your, frankly ill-equipped, analytical side and is starting to make choices based on how it feels. Let it find more tracks loosely based on this direction. If it changes direction, go with it, just change gently - don’t shake the baby. Here comes the tricky bit. Humans hate loose endings. We are masters of our universe and must understand everything. If you leave your playlist open ended people will feel cheated. When it’s time to wrap up your little DJ session (and sometimes they go on for days) you have about two to three songs to find the link back to the very first track you played. If you can’t do it, don’t force it. You’ll just have to keep going until you can effortlessly, with integrity and with a small amount of smug self-satisfaction play the first track again. You’re done. Write down the tracks in order, write down your direction and there you have a wonderful playlist worthy of the finest table at La Restaurant d’Culture Popular.

2) Don’t Make Single Artist Playlists
The record company has done that for you. They’re called “Greatest Hits“, “Lost Sides and Rarities” and “The Complete Recordings”

3) Don’t Make Playlists Based on Track Names.
Do not ever, ever, ever create playlists based on a name. For example, “Songs with Cheese In Their Title” will get you thrown out of the restaurant never to return. Similarly, if your lame ass concept is, say, “Summer Songs” try not to pick songs with the word “Summer” in their title. Why on earth would I want to listen to a song that just gave itself away by it’s name? Instead, elude to summer, perhaps in the arrangement, instrumentation, lyric or feel. A great example there would be Cisco Kid by War. It smacks of summer without ever having to mention it. While I’m on the subject of summer, you are allowed one and only one Beach Boys track per summer playlist per year. Please, use this choice wisely and pick something different, like Vegetables from Smiley Smile.

4) You Are Not Making The Playlist For You
If you’re going to publish the damn thing please try and think about the cultural advancement of our species. We’ve been out the trees for quite a while now and are still really struggling with making popular music mean something more than dollars and cents. Inform, educate and entertain your fellow proto-simian and they will, in turn, pick fleas from your back. A good playlist should leave the listener thinking they have discovered something new and not thinking you must be really cool because half the tree is taken up by your record collection. Stop thinking “tracks I like” and start thinking “tracks I think you’d like”.

As we hurtle down the information super highway with our windows down and the stereo blasting please think about littering. You wouldn’t throw your coffee cup out the window along I-5 so please keep the backwash of your high fat, super-sweet triple venti caramel macchiato with almond syrup and extra cream musical selections safely inside your browsing vehicle until you reach a suitable trash receptacle. If you do feel the need to share your beverage, stop the car, find a nice cafe and make it a simple single shot espresso served in a porcelain cup accompanied by great conversation and a feeling of time well spent doing absolutely nothing.

Firstly, if you’re paying 99 cents a song, you’re a fool. You don’t own the music, you think you do but in reality you just bought the modern equivalent of an eight track. Sure it’s easy to cart around but it sounds like crap, has all the glamour of Google’s home page and, when you tire of the music, its resale value is about as much as a slightly used chapstick. Coincidently, but strangely not surprising, 99 cents is about the going rate for a record from your neighbor’s yard sale. Actually, it’s marginally more expensive due to the currency issues of dealing with pennies, usually $1 is the settled upon price but, nevertheless, $1 buys you not just one track but around twelve plus pretty pictures, lyrics, personnel listings and, if you’re really lucky, a piece of history especially if the previous owner wrote their name on the sleeve in neat cursive. To this day I’m not sure why people monogrammed their records, it doesn’t happen with used CD’s and it certainly can’t happen with mp3’s but it does provide a sense of tradition and accountability. People that steal music from P2P’s care nothing for the tracks they just acquired, yet it makes me sad when I accidentally drop the needle on Trudy Sherman’s old copy of The Sugercubes‘ Life’s Too Good. She looked after it, why can’t I?

I digress, back to the economics and a word on sound quality. Records sound amazing. You probably don’t know this. If you’re under thirty, you’ve probably never heard one and if you’re over thirty you probably can’t remember one. Sometimes they get dirty but a 99-cent (there’s that price again) bottle of rubbing alcohol diluted 1:20 with a 99-cent bottle of deionized water (both available from your local mega-mart drug store) does wonders. PopClickSkip be gone! Spend no more than this on your cleaning kit because you probably only spent a dollar on the record to begin with. Oh, next time you illegally download a song and are disappointed that the encoding rate and quality sucks just remember that you can take your prospective new record purchase out of its sleeve and see just about all the bad sound quality that record has to offer before you part with your dollar. Anyhow, why do records sounds amazing? Mojo, that’s it, plain and simple mojo. It’s the ghosts in the machine. It’s like the scene in The Wizard Of Oz when the movie turns to Technicolor. Who wants to live in Kansas their whole life?

How much does it cost to buy a record player? A good used 1970’s era turntable should not cost more than $150. Don’t buy a DJ deck, anything made in the 1980’s or anything made of plastic (not for sound quality, it’s just turntables are cool and plastic isn’t). Add $50 for a reasonable cartridge and $50 for a cheap but useable phono stage. Say what? What’s a phono stage? Well, it’s pretty much a given that your amp/stereo/surround sound setup doesn’t have the circuitry required to convert those little grooves into lush bass so you’ll need one of those things to do the job for it. Now we’re at $250 – the new portable device costs $400 so that’s $150 to spend on records. Holy Cow, that’s nearly 150 new albums or over 1500 tracks. Makes a 99-cent track look somewhat quaint, doesn’t it?

Of course, you can spend so much more on both the hardware and the vinyl but why bother. The more you spend the more you diminish the wow factor of having bought this stupendous sounding setup for next to no money. Considering love of music is an emotional response to vibrations in the air, heighten that emotion by gloating at the economic miracle that lies before you.

But what about the digital download format? It too is a wonderful thing but think of it as a summer dalliance. Buy yourself a subscription to Rhapsody - it’s like taking your summer fling out to dinner, ice cream and then a romantic walk along the beach in the hope of a little nirvana. Sure, it’s a running cost but when the summer is over, you’re only out of pocket the price of a few meals and you’re not stuck with a diamond ring that won’t fit on the finger of the next new hot girl that comes your way.