Modest Goddess

My pal K squared is on a mission to diversify the media I consume. She sends me stacks of books (so that I don't just continually reread "The Lord of the Rings"), gives me a subscription to Netflix (so I don't just watch "Lost" and "The Office," or nothing when they're in reruns) and now sends me a packet of CDs, intriguingly titled "Real Estate Memos," "Accounting" and "Various Worksheets," along with a sticky that says, "Please call to discuss."

Can you guess what they are? Can ya? I'll put the answers at the end of the post. No peeking.

K2 was somehow psychically able to sense that I've been recently on a musical diet of all Beethoven's Sixth Symphony, all the time in the car, and that too much of a good thing (and oh, what a good thing the Sixth Symphony is) is not good. In fact, it could lead to a "Clockwork Orange"-y reflex where you start to HATE the music you loved because you're so darn sick of it and only listen to it when you're speeding to work and stuck behind a school bus or on your way home when you're so tired you hope you don't drive off the road into the side of a house.

I am especially delighted with the "Various Worksheets" CD because there is a copy editing song on it. A lyric goes, "Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma," a reference, no doubt, to the Harvard or serial comma, used in sentences where there is an and, and another and, and another and. If you were AP, you'd leave out that last comma.

Right. Who gives a fuck.

Answers: REM
Counting Crows
Vampire Weekend.

Labels: music