There are only a couple of bad things about the death of albums. First is the end of giant album cover art. Who even notices album art any more? On new albums, they're just mailing it in.

What does a married guy walking the dogs in his pajama pants know about finding a prostitute?

Here's the least uplifting, but one of the most fun Christmas songs to come out in years.

Last night, I was painting some crown molding in the dining room. Even though my ceilings aren't unusually high, I've always noticed how hot it is with my head up there near the ceiling. In no time at all, I had worked up a good sweat.

I did something different on Thanksgiving Day this year. I ordered the steak. We had no family obligations, there was no snow on the ground in Colorado, and the forecast scared us away from a sailing voyage. So we sailed Wednesday, and went down to The Grill Room in New Orleans for Thanksgiving dinner.

Every February, on college football signing day, the experts come out with rankings to let you know who's incoming class is best. It's yet another competition for the fans to watch and root for. But the experts also always say something like, "You have to wait four years to really see what this class is all about."

Flight of the Conchords new season starts on January 18. That gives you two whole months to subscribe to HBO if you don't have it already.

I've got nothing to blog about. I've done nothing out of the ordinary, had no interesting bowel movements, have no unusual hair growing out of unusual places. We've had no unusual weather; there's nothing worth mentioning in local sports. Anyway, here's a glimpse into my life the last couple of weeks.

Jamarcus Russell did some very poor quarterbacking this week.

One day early last week, I was listening to a radio show out of Washington DC on an internet stream. Somehow, it came up that one of the hosts hasn't french kissed his wife in a decade. A younger, unmarried producer in the studio found that hard to believe, and they argued a bit about whether that was typical.

A couple days after Baton Rouge announced that the first pass of Hurricane Gustav debris pick up had been completed, I took this picture. We've been a pretty patient town. It's been six weeks, and I don't hear much bitching about all of the limbs that still line our street.

A couple of keepers from the mailbag. First, from a political email thread in September. But read to the end, it's a good one there.