Not Like Fine Wine and Cheese

Some things definitely get better with age - typically fine wines and cheese, but also including some books, vinyl, exotic sport cars, and Justin Timberlake. Bucking the trend: George Clinton. Sure, he's Dr. Funkenstein. Sure, he has multi-colour dreads. Sure, sure. But look - the man must be at least 60 of our earth years and I think, just maybe, it's time for him to retire. His voice has become so gravely and drugged and aged that he can't really perform any of the classics and watching the Funky One clap off beat to a song defined by the baseline is embarassing, really. George: we love you, you're perfect, now git outta here.

In other news - maybe Jewish girls aren't so bad after all? Who knew. Well, aside from other Jews, of course. And my grandmother. It's been a busy week for the Amour category around here. I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with the dating multiple women thing yet and sometimes this city feels a little too small when every new date is confined and demarcated by the locales and events of past dates with other women. The 'ole internal eight ball is murmuring about the end of the shortlived Irish era (and something about answers being fuzzy, but that might be the booze), and I can't say I disagree. Time to move on to new geographies? I think so.