Kathy, I'm Not a Nazi

I owe an apology to Kathy the catering coordinator. (If that's her real name, which it is not.) I did not in any way mean to imply that Kathy's work annoyances were unfounded. And I want her to know that I do care if the restaurant loses money on Dora, I just saw her in a new light. I love "Kathy". She's a beautiful woman and I wouldn't intentionally do anything to hurt her.

I haven't written in a few days. The manic burst of energy that marked the beginning of my blogging has coagulated into a semi-depression. Additionally my computer was infected with over 200 malicious scripts. I tried to download some software for my new phone and ended up with a PC that acted like a spastic colon, alternately spewing diarrhea and bogged down with constipation.

My Good Friend Kevin turned me on to a band called The Clientele. As usual his musical taste proves to be as sublime as his prose. The Clientele's dreamy, mellow brand of pop has me vowing to become a regular "client" of their musical services. (Feel free to use that, Merge Records.)