It's a rainy evening here in the city. Amber cooked up a pot of instant organic butternut squash soup. It was nasty. We both agreed. Not her fault though. The Campbells box version is actually quite tasty. Something happened in the box-organic version. How the heck were we supposed to know that? Huh? Verdict: Campbells=tasty, organic version=gagalicious. (Sorry subscribers. I finally broke down and looked up the actual spelling of Campbells.)
We watched a bunch of American Idol contestants butcher some of my favorite Beatles songs last night. All I could say the whole time was, "thank you Micheal Jackson." If it wasn't for Peter-Pan-grilled-cheese-nose-captain-molesto Jackson, the Beatles library would still be preserved and the only version of Here Comes the Sun that anyone would know would be the one that George Harrison immortalized, not while a bunch of animated bees fly around or while several skinny people jump around or while Crystal Light is being poured, however artfully, on a Target commercial.
To me, hearing someone sing a Beatles cover poorly is akin to the poor soul who has to endure listening to their Dad's new blonde bimbo wife trying to talk motherly to them even though Dad's new bimbo wife is one year their junior.
It just gets under my skin like nobody's business. However I did hear a few of the young hopefuls do a good job on a Beatles cover. Well, actually it was a cover of a Whitesnake cover of a Beatles tune.