The music group Yes was recently inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in my hometown. No. I've never found any of their songs to be listenable. Not one. Horrible stuff, really.
I think if I were going to the trouble and expense of having my gender surgically "re-assigned", or even if I were simply going to dress from now on as a woman, that I would choose a forename that didn't sound like one chosen by a twelve-year-old girl.
Robert Pirsig, the author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, died recently. A beloved cousin, an old friend with whom I was a first year teacher, and various pedagogical colleagues over the years have all loved, LOVED, that book.
Not only do I find it ponderous and dull, but I think it the best example of how to take a delicate metaphor, that life is like a motorcycle journey that requires occasional tune-ups, repairs, and maintenance, and beat it to death. Really, I mean kill it with fire.
It would be one thing if the book were simply witless and overlong, but its regard for Zen was such that I lost all interest in that particular school of Buddhism simply by reading it.
Speaking of music, how come Pete Seeger could never have a hammer? They're cheap and ubiquitous. You can buy a serviceable one for less than ten bucks. I'm guessing it was because he was a Communist. He was probably waiting for someone else to buy it for him.
Now, excuse me, as I have to go yell at some kids who are on my lawn.