In which we watch a little television, or more to the point, a little bit of a very big television, this being 2026 and all

One does watch TV…

• First of all, “The Forsytes,” because this requires special attention. When all was said and done I gave this one a Meh rating. The key problem was that it tried to pack too much into too short a time. Every scene seemed to last about eleven seconds and then we would rush to the next scene, and the next, and the next, never getting any traction anywhere. The only sparks between characters were in the final episode for the eleven seconds between Bossiney and Irene. The actors were for the most part perfectly fine and although occasionally miscast, quite up to the job, but the job wasn't there for them. Forty years ago I listened to The Forsyte Saga as a Books-on-Tape project and remembered enjoying it, so I figured I’d give it a read now. The volumes in my home library had type the size of [metaphor for some really small thing] so I downloaded it to the Kindle, and started reading. At this point, I have discovered that the TV show created the matriarch Ann practically whole cloth out of an invalid sister of James and old Jolyon (no doubt to grab the Dame Maggie Smith / Christine Baranski market), subtracted about 30 years and 8 siblings from said James and old Jolyon, replaced a governess with a dressmaker and given her secret children, focused on young Jolyon’s wife who is in fact dead as a doornail for six years long years at the start of the books, made June young Jolyon’s stepdaughter rather than actual daughter, created a completely non-existent Forsyte family business, moved the two remaining siblings into houses next door to one another, etc., etc., etc. These are, in other words, not the Forsytes. They are Forsytian stand-ins at best. Cryptoforsytes? Which raises the question, Why? Here you have a Nobel Prize winning set of novels that, in the past, provided numerous dramatizations fairly successfully, as I understand it. Why take those novels and change practically everything? If you don’t like what Galsworthy did in the first place, why bother with him? Why not just bite your thumb at him and steal all you want and change everything to your heart’s content and then call if something like "The Joneses" or "The Fink-Nottles?" It’s not as if in 2026 The Forsyte Saga is such an extraordinary hook upon which to pull in one’s viewing fish. Find me someone who has read these books who is under the age of 80 and, well, there’s me (assuming I stick with it) and about 123 other English-speaking people in your potential TV audience. So, ultimately, this show is a go-figure enterprise from the get-go, and I can’t possibly recommend it to anyone other than that 123 Galsworthy-worthy types who might want to marvel at the mayhem.
• I loved "Shrinking," on the other hand. What a great batch of characters! The third season wrap-up made it look over and done, but the interwebs are promising yet more to come. Good.
• “We Call it Imagineering” on Disney+ is an import from YouTube. It goes a little deeper than the usual documentary. Disney has been learning that you don’t have to keep the magic secret; there’s a lot of people out there who think knowing how it’s done makes it even more magical. I’m with them. 
• “The Irregulars” on Netflix is a totally off-the-wall Sherlock pastiche that will set True Irregulars off into apoplexy. It makes "The Forsytes" look like canon. It’s not great, but the cast is amiable enough. I neither recommend it nor pan it; if you like oddball supernatural stories, well, why not?
• Because I loved the movie and never watched the TV show, which was on for a hundred years with a thousand spinoffs, I started watching "Stargate." I’ve only watched a handful so far but I am told that it does find its stride soon enough, and as I say, it was awfully popular. The jury hasn’t even entered the box yet on this one. 
• “Mr. Wonder” — What the hell was this about??? What a nutty damned show. The episode with Josh Gad stands out especially. Anyone who wants to accuse the Feige Marvelites of the same old same old need to watch this one. Thumbs up? Yeah, why not. 
• “DTF St Louis” is another oddball show, where there is a dead body at the beginning and then we peel the onion of all the characters to find out why. It is a weird show, but it’s compelling, with a lot of strange behaviors and black humor. The best character is the old detective totally out of his milieu in all the craziness.
• Have I mentioned that we've been watching "David Chang Live?" Totally fun, and it's not even foodie-observant. Chang grabs a couple of friends and cooks a meal for them, obviously live to begin with, but streaming now for three seasons. Light entertainment that actually entertains. Recommended.

And that's it for now.

In which we're back listening to music

It must be Queue Thursday...

• “Lullaby of Broadway” from Rod Stewart and Jools Holland — The ubiquitous Holland, who often gets off a good one, and the also-ubiquitous Stewart, who hasn’t gotten off a good one since he discovered and subsequently attempted to lay waste to the Great American Songbook, teamed up for this lively recording of big band hits, proving two things: a lot of people like what Stewart does nowadays, as this was Holland’s first number one UK hit, and the Stewart and Holland combination is not a hell of a lot better than Stewart without Holland. As with Stewart's other albums of standards, that it’s bad is not the problem. I mean, it isn’t bad, it’s just that it isn’t really good either. Search the word “meh” in Google, and no doubt the collected oeuvre of Stewart singing standards will be the first hit. I listened to this because I’ve been listening to Holland. I am happy to put it, and my mother's Rod Stewart—she literally had a couple of his albums, neither of which was "Gasoline Alley"—behind me.
• Randy Newman, “Born Again” — Newman is one of those artists I simply run through from the start, and when I get to the end, I start over. I always find new stuff that I like. No doubt there will be yet another Disney soundtrack from the upcoming Toy Story 487. When I saw him in concert a number of years ago, he mumbled something about Disney being very, very good to him. Among the songs he wrote for them is “When Somebody Loved Me,” one of my all-time favorites, so I’d say he’s also been very, very good to Disney. Meanwhile, “Born Again” is solid, with “It’s Money That I Love” as the lead number.
• “Live Dead” was, as I recall, their first live album. As a Deadhead before you were born I immediately bought it and proceeded to never much like it. I’ve never much liked any live Dead recordings. Which demonstrates no doubt that I was not really a Deadhead by any true measure. Nevertheless, "Workingman’s Dead" and "American Beauty," which are one album as far as I’m concerned (cf. "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver"), are in my GOATs collection. Again, I'm doing the Dead as a run-through from beginning to end, and no doubt over again after that. Maybe I am a Deadhead!
• Rick Derringer, “Derringer” — Why not? He’s fun enough. I'll try more.
• Bad Company, “Holy Water” — I’ve listened to a lot of Bad Company by now, and it’s all starting to sound the same. I think they ran out of creative steam before this album. It’s all fine, but we’ve been there before. Song-writing ain’t easy, Pumpkin, which is why the streets are not littered with George Gershwins or Paul Simonses.
• Chris Rea, “Whatever Happened to Benny Santini?” — Rea got onto the list by having his obituary appear in the Times. According to Wikipedia: “He was known for his distinctive gravelly voice, slide guitar playing and music style blending soft rock with blues.” There’s not much of that on this perfectly pleasant album, but we’ll see what happens as we continue through the works in order.
• “The Original Lost Elektra Sessions” of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band — Exactly what you expect.
• Olivia Dean, “Messy” — I can’t imagine who put this into my queue. 
• Al Jardine, “A Postcard from California” — An original unrelated-to-Brian Beach Boy, Jardine has put out exactly one solo album, this one, in 2010. I’ve listened to it a couple of times now. It’s got a couple of nice originals, plus some interesting retakes with friends, especially the version of “Help Me, Rhonda.” Cheerful stuff.
• Elvin Bishop, “Ace in the Hole” — Speaking of Paul Butterfield, I’ve been listening to the full Bishop, and enjoying him a lot. This one tends to have a bit more talking than I would prefer, as in talkin’ blues, but there’s worse things. I will continue on my journey, as this guy makes some great music.
• James Gang, “Jesse Come Home” — Their swan song, and it feels like a swan song, and it even has a “going off into the sunset” cover painting. They definitely had run out of gas by this point, but it wasn’t a terrible way to go out. 

In which we watch some movies and listen to some books

Movies: As noted previously, over the years my appetite for movies has lessened quite a bit. There was a time in my youth where I practically saw a movie a day—any movie, thanks to a membership at the Museum of Modern Art. Their daily 5:30 showing meshed perfectly with my 9-5 job in midtown. NYC in the 70s was movie theaters on every street corner, with all sorts of revivals and double features and foreign films: a cinema buff’s paradise. I was there for all of it. So what happened? Age, I guess. And not a lot of movies calling to me to leave home and go through the bother. And when I am at home, there’s plenty of reliable TV fare that as often as not is more engaging than the latest features. So it goes. 

That said, two movies got me to leave home recently. First, Project Hail Mary. Loved the book, enjoyed the movie. Not much more to say, except that I did recommend it for my nine-year-old granddaughter. Second, The Christophers. I saw this at the local arthouse, based on a critic’s choice review from the NY Times. It’s a Soderbergh film, and quite good, with two excellent core performances by Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel. I did not know Coel prior to this, but she manages to stand up majestically to McKellen, which is no easy feat for any actor. Highly recommended.

And then, with a free night at home, I watched Sinners. I didn’t really know what to expect aside from vampires, which honestly is not that great a magnet for me; I’m not exactly a horror movie fan. All the accolades nevertheless convinced me to give it a try. And, well, if you’ve seen this movie, you know that it’s in no way a silly horror movie. The first half of the film, culminating in a magical/phenomenal musical sequence at the juke joint, is something you haven’t seen before and won’t forget. And the vampires, when it comes to it, have something more to say than just, “May I come in.” No wonder this movie received so many accolades. I loved it. 

I also watched the final Downton Abbey movie. I mean, why not? It's like the TV show, only longer, with Granny gone, and everyone retiring at the end. Downton was always one step down from the gold standard of Upstairs, Downstairs but it was nevertheless watchable. So are the movies. And, finally, there won't be any more of them and we can get on with our lives. 

Books: On paper—all right, Kindle—I got to the last of Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie books. All of them are great, but I would definitely recommend reading them in order. After that, another of my favorite authors is Connie Willis, and I went for her first novel, Lincoln’s Dreams. This is an oddball book, genre-busting if you will. It’s not my favorite of hers—that distinction goes to the Oxford time travel series—but I certainly learned more about Robert E. Lee than I was expecting. If you’re new to her, the starting point would be The Doomsday Book. If you don’t like that one, you and I are done. 

And on the audio front, a woman who is swiftly joining the ranks of my favorites is H.G. Parry. I finished The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door, and loved it. There’s something about a good away-at-school book that can really grab you. Who doesn’t mix in the narrative fiction with the narrative reality of one’s own school days, somehow wishing that the real had been more like the fictional, which in fact it somehow becomes? I was not a fan of her historical rights-of-magicians stories, The Shadow Histories, but there’s plenty more where that came from. She’s a New Zealander, by the way, and I would expect she has lots more books in her. 

Alan Moore's The Great When, on the other hand, was an almost impossible listen. The problem was that the style of the writing requires serious attention that is impossible to give to an audiobook. I gave up after a couple of hours of not really following it. I might try to read it on paper some day. It is not the first book that I've come across on my headphones that just doesn't work as an audio, including most indicatively Mrs. Dalloway and its stream of consciousness. Oh well... 

In which we honor Ted Turner Debate

Correct me if I’m wrong on any of this…

Once upon a time there was high school debate. (My HS time, for the sake of full disclosure.) A team of two debaters argued one another over government policies, citing facts to support their positions. Each team had a shoebox of index cards on which were hand-written the facts they were presenting, collected mostly from magazine articles, discovered through using a library reference book entitled The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature (which, BTW, still exists online). Over time, and thanks to Xerox machines, those index cards grew into giant files of 8x10 sheets of documentation; an elite team might wheel four giant Rubbermaid tubs of these files from tournament to tournament and from round to round. In order to use this vast collection of research, speakers had to talk fast. Eventually, at the so-called highest levels of debate, the speaking speed was virtually incomprehensible to anyone not trained in it. 

Phillips 66 is a petroleum refineries company that, as many major corporations do, sponsors community activities. For a number of years Phillips sponsored high school debate: let’s face it, it takes a bit of the thing Woody Guthrie called the do re mi to run a national tournament. One year around 1980, the story goes, Phillips execs visited the NFL (as NSDA was called then) national tournament to bask in the glow of all that beneficial do re mi. They made the mistake, apparently, of visiting a debate round, and found themselves in a tobacco auction. Can’t we have something our people can watch and actually make some sort of sense out of? 

Thus Lincoln-Douglas Debate was born, aimed to provide an alternative to the existing Cross-X or Policy debate. The goal was to create an event that wouldn’t have all year, including summer camps, to amass evidence, and for that matter, to debate on a more philosophical rather than practical/policy level. Maybe with these changes, perhaps the average civilian could drop into a round and not only understand it, but even adjudicate it. 

And it worked. For a couple of decades. But as computers and the pipes of the internet came into our lives, eventually, as with Policy, at the so-called highest levels of debate, the speaking speed was virtually incomprehensible to anyone not trained in it. The content wasn’t exactly orthodox either, as postmodernism and critical theory bubbled up from contemporary academia. (This infected policy as well, and probably first, for that matter.) LD was becoming a one-person analog to Policy. And once again only an expert adjudicator could make much sense of it. None of this is to support a claim that there is something wrong with an extremely parochial forensics event; I am simply reporting the reality. Personally I’m all in favor of all kinds of debate, as long as we keep them in perspective. I’ll defend that position elsewhere (and already have, often enough, come to think of it).

And now, around the turn of the millennium, enter Ted Turner. 

Turner was something of a controversial figure in his day; you can read his obituary to get the details. And he was a philanthropist, with plenty of the do re mi to philanthropize with. I do not know the details of how it happened, but one day the NFL/NSDA announced the creation of Ted Turner Debate. Loosely based on the CNN debate program Crossfire, the paradigm of this new debate event was who could make the most persuasive argument. Like the TV show, facts and/or reality were not as important as being convincing. The topics would change every month, so that teams couldn’t amass tubs (or at that point, portable hard drives) of evidence. Since extreme speed was anything but persuasive, that managed inherently to cancel that aspect out. And to put that in boldfaced underlined italics, the audience literally allowed to judge the event was, as much as possible, members of the community (for which read, parents). The people who were presumably responsible for the flaws of CX and LD—the non-teaching professional judges and whatnot, college kids I guess—were banned. Quickly enough Ted Turner Debate became Controversy debate became Crossfire debate, in some order or another. And finally it became Public Forum.

Public Forum has changed a bit over the years, and if you’re reading this, you probably know how. Some topics are monthly, some bi-monthly. There are no longer bans on judging, and parent judging is as often as not the main core of the pool. Which means that at a given tournament a team might face anything from an expert college debater to a local businessperson to a first-time parent in the back of the room, and must adjust accordingly. I think that’s one of the best things about the activity. Flipping for sides and precedence happens sometimes (the NSDA) and not other times (the NCFL). Loosey goosey evidence is still problematic enough, with most of the complaints coming against paraphrasing and bogus strategic challenges. And, say what you will, Public Forum is now the coin of the realm. At least around my region, it is the most popular event on the docket. I would ascribe this ultimately to its accessibility. Any good educator can coach it. Any determined student can master it. Any reasonably intelligent adult can adjudicate it. (Parent judges, as a bonus, do not need to be paid, and can also act as chaperones, a double whammy.) 

So Ted Turner, recently deceased, creator of CNN and TCM and God knows what-all, should be honored in our debate circles for being one of the reasons we have our most popular debate activity. 

Rest in peace. 

In which we get the NYCFL ready for 2026-7

There has not been Policy at States for as long as I can remember. I think the last time was in Albany, the year Richard Sodikow retired. LD that year was in a bleak high school with virtually no hospitality for the judges or the students. Policy, apparently, made our venue look like a stately pleasure dome in Xanadu. Why Policy went off the boards after that is a mystery to me. They may have rebelled against the State organization, or maybe the State organization rebelled against them. Since then, the shrinking number of Policy schools in the region hasn’t helped. Monticello, Newburgh, Lakeland, Edgemont, even Hendrick Hudson…All gone. In any case, a couple of us were pushing to get Policy back at States, even in its diminished condition. Given that there was no more space at our venue, Bronx Science, why not at least try it as a virtual event on Saturday, maybe live on Sunday for Elims? Or mayb all virtual? Having no portfolio for the NYSFL myself, all I could do was wonder aloud in the direction of Catholic Charlie, a Regional Director.

Maybe next year? I’ll keep wondering aloud. 

Business from two directions brings this up now, because I have spent a bunch of time this most recent week working on next year’s NYCFL debate tournaments. First of all, one of the local CX stalwarts was having difficulty figuring exactly what divisions were when in the whole shebang. This was a case of it looking perfectly clear to me, the exhibitor, but not to her, the exhibitee (so to speak). In this situation there are two possible ways to proceed: blame the viewer for not understanding your obviously clear as spring water exposition, or accept that the spring water of your exposition has a bit of mud in it. Putting all the tournaments up on tabroom solves the problem. You can find all the tournaments offered in a circuit, ours being obviously NYCFL, and when you go to one of those tournaments, the events offered are clearly delineated. 

(Which, BTW, brings up another issue. I tend to be pretty free in approving tournaments for our circuit. The problem with that is that when you look at our circuit on tabroom, it’s overflowing with tournaments that are not NYCFLs. Given that we run a goodly number overall, between the literal NYCFL and the ODL, I think it makes sense in the future to be a little more discretionary with these approvals to make things more manageable for our membership. If someone is nearby, say the Tri-State League centered in Brooklyn, or the Long Island or NJ events that are heavily attended by our NYCFL folks, it’s one thing. But if I can’t find you on the map, even though you are a friend of ODL, no one from our league is really going to need to know what you’re running because they’re never going to go there even if they wanted to. Sorry about that.)

The other business was a question that arose over the nature of an invitation. I claim, truthfully, that our in-person NYCFL debate events are open to non-members. (The speech and congress events, with I think one exception, are all members-only.) In fact, the more non-members the better insofar as creating a more diverse field. The membership accepts same-school debates as a necessary evil, and we do our best in tab to stir things up as much as possible, but different-school debates are way more desirable. Bringing in outside schools helps that happen. So by me, everyone is invited. But as far as this nebulous everyone is concerned, how do they know that? Once upon a time, pre-internet, we were invited to tournaments because they sent us an invitation in the mail. Or they faxed it (look It up, young Padawan). Nowadays, you post it on tabroom. Which means that my posting of all of next year’s debate events on tabroom not only informs regular attendees of what’s happening, but it presents the information in the most public place possible, the de facto information center. Add to that, literally opening the page for any of these tournaments immediately presents you with the information that you are welcome even if you’re a non-member, plus I’m still working on some main-page language explaining as briefly as possible anything a non-member needs to know. It’s not exactly a mailed invitation, but it acts as one in 2026. 

So, two tournament birds, one tabroom stone. Perfect? Not quite. Pretty close? Hopefully.

In which we make another visit to the music queue

There’s a documentary about “Aja” on HBO-Max that I just watched, part of a series on “Classic Albums.” This is the only one I’ve seen. I became a big Steely Dan fan after they broke up (and before they got back together).  It was my assistant at Doubleday, Nels, who first got me involved with them. Nels was a big music fan and performer, maybe a decade younger than me. This was during the period when I was mostly listening to jazz, show tunes, and classical stuff. I asked him to recommend something recent in rock that I would like, and his recommendation was “Gaucho.” And thus began my love affair with the Dan, as Fagen refers to them in Eminent Hipsters, one of the few books on rock that I’ve read. (I think the memoirs by Brian Wilson, Bruce Springsteen, Keith Richards, and David Byrne are the lot of them, but I guess I should include "500 Songs," since I just signed up for Hickey’s Patreon.) The Aja documentary is well worth watching if you’re a Dan fan. They’re a band famous (too famous) for working in the studio, and the program shows the how and why of it on this album. Perhaps a little too inside baseball? But I have a feeling that if you, too, are a Dan fan, you’ll enjoy it. 

The March of the Audit: As a reminder whenever I hear of an artist I don’t know that sounds interesting, I throw them into my audit playlist on Spotify, and every day pretty much I listen to an album or so in the mornings in the order in which I attached them. If I like them, I put their next album at the end of the list. Sometimes I even grab a song for my main rock playlist. Other times I might find an album needs more than one listen before making any sort of determination, so I toss it back in the mix. This is the latest listening review.

• “Up, Up and Away” by the Fifth Dimension. If you’ve been following me you know I love good harmonies, and 5D does that. I never really listened to them beyond the hits, so this is an attempt to rectify that oversight. The songs here that aren’t hits are very Mamas-and-the-Papas-ish; they even cover “Go Where You Want to Go.” It’s all very pleasant, and they have good taste. If nothing else, I want to be sure to collect all their hits in one of my appropriate playlists, and I’m pretty certain there will be a surprise or two as well. (BTW, if you haven’t seen the movie “Summer of Soul,” what is wrong with you?)
• “Asleep at the Wheel” is their second untitled and/or eponymous album. I had a bunch of their stuff on CD, and saw them live for the first time last summer. Bob Wills is still the king. 
• Traffic, “John B Must Die” — I remember when Traffic's first album came out. One look at the picture on that album and you knew you had to have this record. When they announced their breakup, already sans Dave Mason, hearts were broken among everyone I knew. And then, after Blind Faith—who weren’t as good as you wanted them to be but they were all right—John Barleycorn turned up in local racks. It’s a bit different from earlier Traffic—I’m doing a complete replay of their work in the queue—but a super record. If you’re picking a Traffic album for your GOATs playlist, is this the one?
• “Procol Harum,” more untitling/eponymousing — Well, it all sounds like Procol Harum. I still remember the day, sometime in the 90s, when I finally realized that they were saying “that her face at first just ghostly.” I didn’t even have a good mondegreen for it. I used to just “wawawawa” along with it before chiming in with “turned a whiter shade of pale.” Makes sense after the fact. More PH to come. They were more diverse later on.
• Chad and Jeremy, “Before and After” — Pleasant folky 60s British stuff. Sweet. I took a girl to one of their concerts when I first started dating. 
• Sagittarius - “Present Tense” — I listened to them again, and this time felt I had grokked them well enough, pulling a song or two for the main playlist only to find that they were already there. Time to move on. The 60s are over. 
• The Goldebriars were Curt Boetcher’s first group. He worked with Sagittarius, the Association, and the Millennium, all cited in a "500 Songs" episode, which is why these all run together. This one is pretty uninteresting folk stuff. 
• The Association, “And Then…Along Comes” — When it’s their hits, they’re great. When it’s not their hits, it almost sounds like their hits, with that rising “ah, Ahh, AAHHH” background. All pleasant, with memorable hits.
• The Millennium — When I was listening to this I was thinking of Jared from college. He was a Grade A hippie, a gentle soul at worst, and this was the kind of music he liked that always had me running from his room screaming. No doubt he ultimately became a longshoreman. 
• Curt Boetcher, also untitled and eponymous. Finally, the man himself. I enjoyed this album, and I think there’s some potential in it. Some of the songs go to interesting places. I threw it back for another listen. 
• Love, “Four Sail” — As in Cole Porter, "Love for Sale?" Or their fourth album, and they’re selling themselves, and they wouldn’t know Cole Porter from a porterhouse steak? Whichever. Arthur Lee has that unique voice, and their songs, like ‘em or not, are always interesting. A couple of quite good ones here. 
• David Johansen, “In Style” — Having gone away in the 70s and 80s (and 90s and 00s and 10s and, progressively more obviously, the 20s), I thought I would catch up. After listening to this I guess I’ll have to go back to the NY Dolls. I heard nothing that struck me but I did hear enough to know that I needed to hear more. So I will. 
• The United States of America— I vaguely remember this album. That cover, and that name, gave off extremely strong “buy me” vibes that, unlike with Traffic, I somehow managed to resist. If I had bought it, I would have regretted it to this day. 

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• Geese, “Projector” — Probably I queued this up from a mention by Petrusich in The New Yorker. It demonstrates, beyond any doubt, that she and I do not hear the same music. I do not have the words—and in general I’ve got words up the wazoo—to describe how I disliked this album.
• Joe Ely, the last eponymous album in the list, renewed my faith in music after having almost lost it listening to Geese. Artists who can play instruments? A singer/songwriter with all kinds of interesting things up his sleeve? It was his obituary back in December that led me to him, and I happily look forward to following his entire career from the beginning. This one is pretty country-ish, but I understand he went more rock later on. I’m willing to find out.

In which we bounce off of Spotify's biggest hits

https://gizmodo.com/spotify-reveals-its-most-streamed-music-of-the-last-20-years-2000750160

My personal listenings, according to Spotify in my year-end wrap-up, didn’t seem like anything I had actually listened to, until I remembered that it included all the stuff in my audit queue, which isn’t necessarily stuff I like and could easily turn out to be something I wouldn’t cross the street for. That said, I would imagine their listing of the most streamed music of the last 20 years would be, well, indicative of true popularity. It should come as no surprise that only 2 of the top 20 artists appear in my main playlist, to wit, Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars. (And not much of them, honestly, but I like the ones I like.) OTOH, I have listened a bit to virtually all of the top artists except a couple I’ve never heard of (and that there are a couple I’ve never heard of should also come as no surprise). My hit rate does not change with most-played songs or albums, and I have listened to none of their top podcasts. Shockingly, I’ve read two of their big audiobooks, and you guessed them: Tolkien and Martin. (I’ve also read—and enjoyed—Taylor Jenkins Reid, but that was for the Day Job so it doesn’t really count.)

Did you do any better being hip/hep/cool/wired/plugged-in or whatever than I did?