Me, My Worst Enemy

Walking up Park Slope on any given weekend, one must not only fight gravity, but must struggle also against a gauntlet of stoop sales.

During the week similiar stuff is free, discarded by hurried Brooklynites who lack the time or patients or gall to standby on Saturdays and Sundays while neighbors browse through and haggle over punch bowels, baby books and Tom Jones LPs.

Back in 1977 Tom Jones could get away with releasing an LP with 9 songs on it. Take "The Classic" for example. Jones threw down covers of "My Way," "The Impossible Dream," "Ain't No Sunshine," "You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin'," "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and four others and called it a day.

You just can't do that these days. People expect at least 15 or 16 songs. I remember when Ice T released "O.G. Original Gangster" back in '91. 24 tracks. I'm pretty sure he counted a few of the skits, too, but still, it raised expectations of quanity, more bang for the buck.

And that's why I blame Ice T for the proliferation of Wal-Marts.

My point is I got two freelance articles due at the end of the month, I haven't started either and I'm explaining the relationship between Ice T and megastores.

Why, oh why do I always do this to myself?

On the bright side, I picked up Men at Work's "Business as Usual" for two bucks at one of these stoop sales last weekend and listening to it cheers my spirtit.

"Listen to your heart,

Screaming at the sky,

Can't you feel it tremble?

Don't you wonder why?"