/This post commandeered by guest blogger Don Bito/
I drove into work today without the slightest idea of what I would write about this week. I hadn’t heard anything new and noteworthy, one way or the other, and I had my doubts about how many weeks I could get away with writing about not-necessarily-recent songs that I just happen to like, and still have you all believe this was a topical pop music review column.
Approaching my desk, a lone tear swelled and dropped from my eye, a single gleaming reminder that the illusion would soon be shattered, the velvet curtain pulled back, that my days as a member of the pop music intelligentsia were now numbered.
And their number…was one. I was sucked into a greased downward spiral of hopelessness and despair (even more so than I usually am at the start of my shifts).
BUT LO, FROM THE VILLAGE OF INBOX THERE SHON A DIM BUT CONSTANT LIGHT.
Could this be? No, surely it was a figment of my imagination, a momentary hallucination created by my reeling ego to engender false hope and eventually sharpen the pain of my inevitable failure.
YET STILL THERE SHON THE LIGHT.
Oh readers, it WAS true! Not only was I to avoid ruination (this week), but it was none other than the Philly Grrl who had thrown herself upon the seldom-bestowed mercy of my haphazard musical tastes.
A MERCY SHE WOULD NOT RECEIVE. And here’s why…