I just caught the repeat of Conan O'Brien's show from Friday, which had Robert Plant as a guest. I was forced to sit through Conan's latest fat joke first, this time about Star Wars fans.
I heard Robert Plant's new song on the radio and wanted to watch him perform it. He sounded great, and it's a comfort to see he's stopped wearing the tight pants with the big sock in them.
Does anybody care that Everybody Loves Raymond is about to bite the dust? I mean, thank God. That show ceased being funny years ago. Now it's just spiteful and old.
I went to the supermarket after visiting Mommy yesterday and was once again assaulted by images of celebrities I wish would go away. Does anybody really buy the Katie Holmes/Tom Cruise thing? Why are we expected to have an emotional investment in Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Lopez's marriages?
And, now the Stones are about to bless us with their presence again. I saw Keith Richards perform without Mick and the rest when he promoted his solo album, Talk is Cheap, and I have to say, he's the talent behind the band. (I like Charlie Watts, too.) But that bag of bones Mick Jagger? You can keep him.
His voice has more holes in it than a pouch of moldy Swiss cheese, and his relentless pursuit of young models is highly unattractive. I, for one, would be afraid to have sex with him. He's so bony I'd probably lose an eye.
But the media, particularly The Today Show, continue to cover the Stones forthcoming tour as if it were the second coming of Christ. Or as if United Airlines performed the miracle of making restitution to the employees they bilked out of their pensions.
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