Hallelujah! The Dog's OK! On to the next gripe.

We've covered a lot of miles together since Valentine's Day of 2005: we've trained for and completed a half-marathon, made a lot of trips to the gym, driven umpteen miles interstate, listened to _A Passage to India_ in its entirety while stocking the shelves at Barnes & Noble before the store opened, jammed to Belle & Sebastian when things got too slow in the AR Senate gallery, learned Mandarin with Chinese Pod at 3 a.m. while tucking billing notices under every door on each of the Peabody Hotel's fifteen floors. And in all that time, I've never once dropped (except once), washed, or in any other way mistreated the blessed thing.

Yes, my iPod Mini. The best Valentine's Day gift I've ever received. Thank you, Dr. BLU.

Yet, yesterday I was almost to the point of eviscerating the little tyke. Pulling its giblets out for inspection and then, if I felt like it, stuffing them back in like a stubborn hernia.

(I'm talking about the iPod here, not Brandy. I'll not speculate about what SHE daydreams about doing with MY innards when there's nothing good on TV.)

For how does it repay me for all these months of tenderness and attention? In addition to its ever-more-lethargic battery, the blasted "Menu" button has quit on me. Those of you without iPods cannot know--you CANNOT KNOW--what an INFURIATING Achille's heel this is.

And what do we do with Achille's heels? C'mon--if you haven't read Homer, you've at least seen "Troy." Why, we loose mighty arrows into them, is what we do.

I'll put the question to you: Do I put this patient under the knife myself, entrust it to Matt via FedEx, or make a donation to Apple (HA!) so they can tell me to go buy a Nano (because after two WHOLE years they no longer support the Mini, despite its being the most popular Mp3 player in history)?

Hmmm. I suppose option #4 would be suck it up and deal with it, but you needn't remind me. I feel petty enough fretting about this stuff with NPR reminding me in the background of the latest death toll in Lebanon and other final vacation destinations. C.S. Lewis's "Learning in Wartime" is helpful here. Let us all heed his wise words about it being in the spirit of man to comb his hair before battle, make jokes on the scaffold steps, and, perhaps, grouse about faulty consumer electronics while our fellow human beings are busily showing no signs of slowing the incineration one of the other. I've written my congresspersons; have you? I'd drop Koffi Annon or John Bolton a note, but I'd hate to think they might take a moment to actually glance at it, thereby adding more molases to the already CRIMINALLY slow wheels of international diplomatic intervention.

Matt, new entry for your caption contest picture of several months back:
"Helloooo? Anyone awake in there? Anyone? Yeah, Satan has a controlling share interest, but CNN was a gift from me--haven't ANY of you been watching it?"

There. I feel better for that disclaimer, as I'm sure you do.
Talk to me people.

P.S. (Sophie submits her appreciation for your kind words, though I had to tell her that all the UPS drivers were on strike. Didn't have the heart to tell her that no one sent bacon.)