Somewhere, someone said and/or did something stupid and/or ridiculous and/or gasp traitorous, and I simply must gaze upon and/or listen to its spectacular beauty. In the meantime, know that if I get off my lazy ass, a laziness of such profundity, a veritable abyss of unimaginable slack, you'll be getting a music review or two soon.
Don't you worry, of course it's metal.
Alright, alright, like everyone who's at least barely awake some of the time, I'm not surprised even one-eighth of an iota at this Orwellian Orwellism, save for one pertinent datum point in today's installment: 112 acres of parking? Even we don't have that, and we're a library.
A fucking library!
But if you'd rather trudge through last week's 179 billion phone calls with a Sipowicz clone instead of Horton Hears A Who! with a sexy librarian, well, it's a free country.