Most of the places I shop play Oldies of various demographics on their in-store “Muzak”, and I have had several “I haven’t heard this in ages” experiences recently. But the most jarring was hearing the song “Diary” by the group Bread. Now I was as relieved as anyone when Bread was usurped as ‘wimpiest pop group in the rock era’ by Air Supply, whose consecutive hits of “Lost in Love” and “All Out of Love” clinched the title in record time.
In addition to a style that defined the oxymoronic “Soft Rock”, Bread was also infamous for its very erudite lyrics in an era when erudition was not (and frankly still isn’t) a big plus. They made one attempt to counter that image with “Baby I’m-A Want You”, which to me, just sounded like a mistake. But still, hearing the lyrics to “Diary” sung again while in the Frozen Foods department showed me that this one song was not just erudite, it really was totally wimpy. 
I found her diary underneath a tree.
And started reading about me.
Okay, this starts out a little creepy. I mean who goes snooping into another person’s diary? Of course, nowadays when you DON’T want to keep a secret, you write it in a blog, so the dead-tree diaries are rarer and much more obviously meant to be kept secret than they used to be. I was rather young when this song came out but I do NOT honestly recall ‘leaving your diary underneath a tree’ being the pre-internet equivalent of putting it on YouTube.
The words she’s written took me by surprise
You’d never read them in her eyes.
Now this should have been the first warning sign.
They said that she had found the love she waited for.
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.
At this point, you already know this is not going to wendell end well.
When she, confronted with the writing there,
Simply pretended not to care,
I passed it off as just in keeping with
Her total disconcerting air.
Now that has to be one of the most perfectly grammatically structured quatrains in the history of Pop Music. Note the use of the subordinate clause “confronted with the writing there”, and the complex prepositional “just in keeping with”, not to mention the 25¢ word “disconcerting”; nobody in Rock and Roll does things like that. (And probably for good reason).

And though she tried to hide
The love that she denied,
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.
That’s one for the Department of Redundancy Department.
In fact, it’s a TRIPLE redundancy (“tried to hide” “denied” “wouldn’t show it”). Sigh.
And as I go through my life, I will give to her, my wife,
All the sweet things that I can find.
After all, if she’s already planning the wedding, then he can start planning the honeymoon. That’s the way they did things in 1972, right?
I found her diary underneath a tree.
And started reading about me.
Repetition? No, a later incident of diary snooping. Still an invasion of privacy, even if she really loves him, but again, it was 1972… But wait…
The words began to stick and tears to flow.
Her meaning now was clear to see.
The love she’d waited for was someone else, not me
In the eloquent words of Ashton Kutcher (or somebody who wrote his character’s dialogue in “That 70′s Show”) BURN!

Cue the Dramatic Gopher
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.
Of course, now, in retrospect, it’s clear that she WAS showing exactly how she felt. But I still love the phrase “disconcerting air”… I wish I’d known a woman with a disconcerting air, rather than some of the personality flaws I have had to dealt with…
And as I go through my life, I will wish for her, his wife,
All the sweet things that she can find
All the sweet things they can find
Give this guy the GOOD SPORT OF THE 70S Award because if this had happened to me, I’d never have the nerve to show my face anywhere near her again. I’d have moved out of state.
What? You don’t remember/never heard this song? Here ya go…

#2 The “color company” Pantone (what else can you call it?) has declared Mimosa, a bright, slightly-orangish shade of yellow to be its
Just like you’ve been Blue Iris for 2008, right? Between the economic Blues, the Red States turning Blue in the election (or at least Purple) and this song that’s been earworming me all year…
Earlier today, as I was opening a package of Kraft Philadelphia don’t-call-it-Cream-Cheese 1/3 Less Fat (marginally more healthy and softer straight out of the fridge) Neufchâtel Cheese (the pre-Thanksgiving sale at the super was 4 blocks for $5… how could I NOT buy 4 blocks?!?), I suddenly realized that in all the years I’ve been consuming it, I’d never said the product name out loud, didn’t recall hearing anyone ever say it and had no idea how to pronounce Neufchâtel!
Newsweek has this long article titled