Dadman over at Cosmic Conservative often posts YouTube performances by musicians from the 70s. He and Cosmic have a friendly debate going on about which decade, the 60s or the 70s, produced the best music. I choose to stay out of that one, because I love music from both those eras (as well as all the later ones).

Today Dadman puts up one of my favorites of all time, Steely Dan's Do It Again. As I was listening to it, I started to wonder why I hardly ever listen to music, despite the fact that I have a deep and abiding love for it. I didn't linger too long on the thought, because I wanted to get back to listening to Steely Dan. And after the song finished, I had to ask myself the question, "Self, if you say you love music so much, why do you listen to music so little?"

After going through a few surface rationales that just didn't seem to fit, I thought about how I had just listened to Do It Again: I had tried to scroll down to read other posts at CC while the YouTube video was playing, but I couldn't get anywhere with that because I was too involved in listening to the music. I was either singing along in my head (I sound much better when I sing in my head than when I actually let air vibrate my vocal cords), following the bass line, or maybe the plastic organ solo, or the percussion.

But whatever part of the music I was concentrating on at the time, it consumed too much of my attention for me to do much of anything else. When I listen to music, I'm immersed in it. My very soul resonates with the music.

And if I can't do it right when I'm listening to music, I'd rather wait until I have the time and concentration I need to listen the way I want to.

First, Flashdance was released 25 years ago (on April 15th...got your taxes done?). Has it really been that long?

Second, Jennifer Beals is even hotter today than she was back in 1983.

See what I mean? Not bad for 44, eh?

I'm unable to subdue a bout of narcissism inspired by Uncle, so according to this, I'm the same age as Mel Gibson, Bill Maher, Joe Montana, Tom Hanks, Larry Bird and The Price is Right, and the year of my birth saw the sinking of the Andrea Doria off of Nantucket, the Soviets crushing the anti-Communist uprising in Hungary and the conflict over the Suez Canal in Egypt. Racism was still rampant in America, and surprise, surprise, the Yankees won the World Series.

I wasn't surprised by Gibson or Maher, but I thought that Montana, Hanks and Bird were younger than me.

Via Uncle, the quote of the day from Mrs Gunner:

Rules are so people don't have to think.

Nothing else to say on that subject. Thanks for the insight, ma'am.

I recently found my way into a few blog conversations with some vegans, trying to understand their positions on animal rights, hunting, eating meat (or any animal product) and so forth.

The problem with my plan became apparent almost immediately. Vegans view their lifestyle choice as a moral issue. Those of us who disagree are therefore immoral. And they can't discuss the issue without arrogance, contempt and insults. My (im)morality apparently justifies the Holocaust, for example.

So I find I'm no longer interested in trying to understand them. I'll just go back to happily eating my beef/pork/fish/chicken/eggs/milk and wearing leather and otherwise exploiting animals.

Oh, and hunting. Definitely hunting. Even though that makes me a pathological, narcissistic misogynist, apparently.

Update: Here's a relevant quote which, I think, illustrates the abolitionist vegan attitude:

There is no characteristic that all and only humans have which separates us from all other species, except one, species membership.

No wonder these people are out on the fringe.