A POX ON THESE FAUX POP-SLUTS

Watching the clips of Ashley Simpson fucking up on SNL and, I hope, destroying her worthless career in the process, causes me to recall an Saturday Night of yesteryear, when Marianne Faithfull had blown out her trademark ashtray voice during rehearsals and then, as showtime approached, fell into the kind of thousand-yard performance panic that required her to get lacquered on cognac before going on camera. And still she pulled off an heartfelt and most moving reading of "Broken English", and finished with a nice curtsey in her leather jeans. But that was when songs and singers meant something.

I am becoming extremely interested in meme and, of course, the viral mutation of the mind and mass culture. All input is welcome. (byron4d@msn.com)

CRYPTIQUE – Walking against the electronic wind.

The secret word is Manacle

JOHN PEEL RIP