iPod Kool-Aid

I want to hate my iPod. Man, my whole book is chock full of iPod love, and at work, when I was at some leadership seminar, and they asked me what "leader" I would like to meet, I worked my way past my obvious controversial choices to Steve Jobs, because, like my Shuffle, he's safe and shiny, and more interesting on the inside, because fuck a sweater. It's a whole other issue, but really, there aren't too many leaders I would really want to meet. George W. Bush, maybe, but that wouldn't be too pleasant an exchange.

Anyway, here's another person I'd like to meet, and again, it wouldn't be too pleasant an exchange. What an ass. Man, can you imagine the shite music on there? If anybody read this, I'd say we list all the bad songs he must have in there. But it's me and my friends, and we can figure that out on our own time.

But that does remind me of a story idea I had. Sort of a Bruce Sterling dealie, where people make some sort of spiderweb fragile connection because of technology, or some shit. A guy that could phreak people's playlists, and sell them to people, like in GATTACCA, when they check their partner's DNA outside the club. Of course my guy would be sort of sketchy, because I do sketchy well. He'd tell girls outside clubs about their men listening to a little too much Poison, or whatever. And hell yeah, ladies. Those super secret slumber party playlists, public domain.

And thus concludes my iPod riff. Btw, I still love my Shuffle. It has been to Cabo with me, and it helped me learn to dance, or at least to be comfortable flailing about, and it's cooler than yours, song for song. I guarantee it. Saturdays at the Duck, between Peter's sets, we'll compare.