Six Years of Bliss…

First off, a quick apology to all PC users who were expecting Igor’s rebuff to Macs on Friday. “Spider-Man” opened, and I just had to launch into a series on that. Fear not, though: the Igor vs. Carson Religious Wars (Mac vs. PC) are far from over.

It was a busy weekend. The lovely and talented Judith and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary. It’s been the best six years of my life, and I’ve had a GREAT life, so that’s saying something. The sense of fulfillment I get when I’m around my love is profound and overwhelming at times, and I do consider myself the luckiest man on Earth.

It was Judith who made Dork Tower possible. Or at least who allowed it to become what it has. She fully supported and encouraged me to leave the Wisconsin State Journal six years ago — three weeks before our wedding, to be precise. We were never badly hurting for money: at the time, I was able to get enough web design work to make ends meet until the comic really started taking off. But it was a huge risk on her part. For some reason, she believed in me, and the comic has never looked back.

We spent the weekend in Chicago, and stayed at the Westin on the river downtown. It’s a lovely hotel, and quite affordable…especially if you don’t plan on eating for like, say, a month. But we had a great time. Friday we saw the Park Ridge Gilbert and Sullivan Society perform a splendidly entertaining “Iolanthe.” Our friend Marty accounted himself admirably in the role of Private Willis, and although the volunteer orchestra was a bit shaky, the men’s chorus was formidable and the entire production was hard not to enjoy. (It’s on again next weekend, and I’d urge Chicago folk to make the trek out to the ‘burbs and have fun:

The next day we went to the Art Institute to catch the Ansel Adams centenary exhibit. For lunch, Judith and I feasted on Chicago-style popcorn, one of the true culinary wonders of the world. A hot, gooey mix of fresh caramel corn and hot cheddar corn, it’s so incredibly tasty it has to be insanely bad for you: I’m guessing it has a 50/50 chance of killing you on the spot. But I don’t care. Once or twice a year, I’ll risk life and limb and bask in the brilliance of this nirvana of junk foods.

Then we went shopping down Michigan Avenue, and I hit the Virgin megastore to grab the latest by Cornershop (“Handcream For A New Generation” – It’s a fab fusion of power-pop, reggae, disco, British, French and Punjabi house, and about a dozen other scalding subgenres. And I had to throw one of its cuts onto a compilation CD as soon as possible.

Not only do I now know how to play with iTunes, but I’m the proud owner of an amazingly cool 10 Gig iPod. Yes, my reversion into music geekdom continues apace. I’m even relatively happy with my second compilation CD, and expert to burn it into permanence any day now.

Anyway, for want of anything better to do, here’s the lineup on “Songs for Swinging Muskrats” volume II:

Star Sign – Teenage Fanclub.

Dry The Rain – The Beta Band.

Lysander – Robyn Hitchcock.

So Sad About Us – The Jam.

Victoria – The Kinks.

What A Waste – Ian Dury & The Blockheads.

Lo Boob Oscillator – Stereolab.

That’s Just What You Are – Aimee Mann.

Believe What You’re Saying – Sugar.

Am I Wrong – Love Spit Love.

I Am So Ordinary – Paula Cole.

Nothing In This World Can Stop Me Worrin’ Bout That Girl – The Kinks .

I’m Bound to Pack it Up – The White Stripes.

Brassneck – The Wedding Present.

You’re In A Bad Way – St. Etienne.

All The Way To Reno (You’re Gonna Be A Star – R.E.M.

Staging The Plaguing Of The Raised Platform – Cornershop.

– John

PS. Come on down to the Dudley Bug Ball in Birmingham, England, where I’ll be next weekend:


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