From its opening words of dedication, Janet Phelan’s EXILE hooks the reader with her intuitive grasp of the work’s place in history as she warns those of us awake enough to question the American Dream:

“To the ones who came before, in gratitude And to the ones who will come after, so that you may know the magnitude.”

From this point on Phelan takes the reader on a terrifying early millennium roller-coaster ride through a series of bizarre, seemingly coordinated attacks in some five countries - a ride she barely manages to survive.

Went to our gloriously funky Columbus Symphony's Latin Fiesta (Homage To Tango) at the Southern Theatre, Saturday May 21, and man, was it muy tremendeso (please forgive my pidgen Argentinian language problems, I mean, they do speak Espanol down there, don't they or is it Portuguese; Doris, hon', google dat for me, wouldja, babe? Thanks so much!).

Back in my record store days, I never listened to tango all that much and when I did, I didn't listen to a lot of it. It was--if you can believe this--actually too moody for a guy like me. Which is nuts. Because even I know I'm musically at least one of the moodiest sonsabitches on the planet. Chuck Berry's got nothin' on me.