My last post seemed to imply that I never listen to music, or at least you may have inferred that from the statement I made about never listening to music. If you’ve been following along (and I know you haven’t, nobody actually reads this, except you, and just this once), you’ll know that I recently found myself in the sudden and dire predicament of being a big fat guy. So, when I’m not turning (the same 3) fresh vegetables (every time) and great slabs of meat into low-karb meisterwerks, I’m down at the YMCA* working out with my damn iPod.

If nothing else, the iPod is a reason I can never truly hate Apple Inc. I tell you, when you’re in the zone on the elliptical fitness machine, and Kim Shattuck’s screaming in your damn ear, it all make sense. McDonald’s should buy stock in Apple—every super-size is a potential future iPod sale to some big piggy trying to make the exercise bike friendlier.

*I heard it’s fun to stay there.

And speaking of Apple, apparently they also make computers, as well as phones and music players. If you have one, you can make this site hurt your eyes less by the key combination Apple+Option+Control+8. I neither know nor care whether Windows has a similar feature.

Speaking of Fats Waller (who apparently stayed Fat because he found exercise boring, without being able to listen to music while he used the Stairmaster), I just heard that song, and, well, it’s a little cleverer than The Damned. But that’s not Damning the Damned with faint praise, it’s still the Best Damned Love Song to come out of England’s first wave of punk.