Chazan | A Fine Litter of Puppies

One of the handful of truly splendid things about America is the newspaper comic Garfield. While the strip doesn’t quite have the art snob street cred of Peanuts, Nancy or even Calvin and Hobbes, there’s something about the fat cat that seems to stick around throughout the humdrum of our lives. Out of the corner of your eye you almost see him, each bemoaning of a Monday morning comes from a voice we may have learned from him. Each one of us is a little bit Jon Arbuckle, each of us grapples with a Nermal or an Odie in our midst. Not unlike the country we live in, Garfield is exactly as bad as you’ve heard, but it’s always there, and there can be a lot of good and beauty to be found in that banal reality.


SHERMAN | When I Worked for the Greatest Website in the World

The fact that, back in high school, I was very, very smart and knew many more things than a lot of other people is indisputable. While I certainly read more books, watched more movies and generally thought about more interesting things than pretty much all of my classmates, what I was most proud of was my music taste, which was impeccable, unsurpassable and precisely cultivated. To put it bluntly, I was much better listened than you or anybody else. Anybody else, that is, except for one man: the prolific music critic, even more prolific blogger, part-time poet, full-time hiker, politically enigmatic historian, dubious scientist, insatiable and indiscriminate (and, in all likelihood, prevaricative) consumer of media, insidious/inescapable online meme and — most importantly — my one-time employer, Piero Scaruffi. Known on the internet over for his, um, uncommon takes on the history of rock and popular music, Piero first wandered into my life while I was doing research for my final project in a “History of Rock” class.