Beats Entropy

Hello everyone,

Due to some unforseen circumstances / technical difficulties /Murphy’s Law / act of God / debilitating plunge into the k-hole, the final final issue of Passive Depressive season one will be delayed by a day.

Will Mr. Toasty defeat Nardo?

Will the pan-dimensional viewer remain intact?

Will Warnick finally confess his undying love for Tracy?

Stay tuned to see how Leo and the gang deal with Nardo and his sinister ways!

I like to think that I have been good to you, my Childrens. I tell you fancy lies and vulgar truths; offer up sleek, playful, otters of wit, franticly pounding absurdity against the flat rock of substantive wisdom they keep on their chest. I give and I give and I give, and ask for nothing in return save your love…and the occasional scandalous backrub from my lady fans. Nothing that is, until now. Poppa A.J. needs your help.

Though it shames me deeply to admit it, my capacity to absorb new music seized some time around 1983. My playlist is disgraceful mix of The Eagles, top 40 fluff, barbershop quartet, and soothing whale sounds I use to make my cat feel less alone. They few quality tracks I’ve found have been ridden so hard they seem like one long song to me. So I turn to you, my cultured masses, to provide me a rundown of a few awesome songs ( and who does them,) that I might stop listening to things like this:

If you help a nigga out I promise I’ll cut way back on brooding poetry and write something a tad more lively.

Due to work scheduling, and social misalignment, I was feeling a bit lonely last night. This loneliness progressed into a mild self pitying funk; culminating in me sitting in the tub signing the mournful theme from “American Tail” (Somewhere out there), that Fivel [1] sings when he’s lost. At some point (after the chorus I believe) my cat put her paws up on he edge of the tub and gave me look of such withering contempt[2] I was forced to acknowledge what I was actually doing, and worse that I was genuinely comforted by it. On some level I had decided that the best way to alleviate a minor sadness was to musically commiserate with a cartoon mouse I hadn’t seen in twenty some years. I found this revelation troubling.

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