Fuck you.

Mostly, the pop music that’s caught my attention since I last was plugged into the pop music scene (25 years ago? 30?) has been romantic. “You’re Beautiful” and “Hey There, Delillah” come to mind. Or offbeat. “God Shuffled His Feet,” “Losing My Religion.”

A few days ago, I found an exception to that rule.

There’s a guy I’d never heard of named Ce Lo Green who sings a Motown-esque song called “Fuck You.” The video is charming and the lyrics are fun. Ce Lo himself is fun to look at, too. A gansta with a heart. We like such contrasts. Also, it’s a very true song. Minimal philosophizing. He got dumped and he’s pissed. Fuck you.

Have a listen.


Bernadette Saviano looked at my bloodwork and said that my thyroid is working too hard. It’s cannibalizing my testosterone, she said, and causing my light-headedness and fatigue and she seemed pretty sure of herself. Another $1,000 for tests to confirm her suspicion. A regimine of supplements underway. Maybe some dietary adjustments coming soon.

The neurologist’s diagnosis of anxiety was welcome for what it wasn’t. It wasn’t stroke or tumor or anything world-destroying. But it was too vague to indicate any plan of action. And the symptoms didn’t go away. Now I have a plan of action.