For reasons even I'm not clear on, I decided to buy Waylon Jennings's Greatest Hits at (naturally) Wal Mart, because it was on sale for $7 and why not? I swear, I could've brought a bouncy blond 15 year old half naked and drunk on my arm home and got a less startled look out of Ellen.

It's what I grew up with, and I actually remember liking Jennings more than any of the rest. The music is startlingly familiar, considering I haven't listened to it in thirty years. It's a strangely appropriate bookend to my Abba's Greatest Hits.

What? Of course it's that weird inside my head. You wouldn't come around so much if I was actually normal.