There's almost no gray area when it comes to Christmas music. You either love it and feel it's charming, or it's a holiday plague that you endure, cringing instinctively every time a bell jingles and someone wants a "figgy" pudding.

Well, folks, the week's made it to a close, and my plan — Did I mention my plan to post a daily entry about some product that I'd be reporting on during CES, or were you able to discern what I meant to do without my having to say it? — failed. Yeah, that plan, like so many other 2006 plans, came to an abrupt end soon after it began. I'm beginning to think that some people just aren't made to make plans. And I might be one of those people. Though a plan can be symbolic of so many wonderful things, and I think it's those things that I'm really attracted to — the act of making a plan, to my mind, holds no special charm — the things which have brought the most joy to my life came with no clever plan. They were big, beautiful surprises.

The finale of the 1963 American Folk Blues Festival. Otis Spann and Memphis Slim on piano; Big Joe Williams, Sonny Boy Williamson,Lonnie Johnson, Victoria Spivey, and Muddy Waters sing; Matt "Guitar" Murphy, guitar; and Bill Stepney, drums.

You've got to love an essay that has the following paraphrase of Plato's <I>Meno</I> dialog:
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<I>Socrates</I>: Here is a square with sides of length 2 and area equal to 4. If we double the area, to 8 units, what will the length of a side be?

I find my logic compelling, but Bagheera doesn't buy it&mdash;she thinks DVD players make excellent perches.

"Are you lonesome tonight,
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Do you miss me tonight?
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Are you sorry we drifted apart?
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. . .
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Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
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Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
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Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?"