Today, work has been fine. There has been a sufficient amount of turmoil, sure, but everything is great now. I'm sitting alone at home, listening to Vivaldi's "Cello Concert in E-Minor" which, mingled with the rest of the excellent "Barry Lyndon" soundtrack that piece adheres to.

The Guardian has just published this interview with Robert Crumb, having visited him in France, where he lives nowadays. He's now an old man, yet still obsessed with the same interests as ever: 78's, drawing, and big asses:

He mentions Serena Williams's body and I nod and say that it sure is a fine body, and he rushes out of the room like an overexcited schoolboy. He returns a second later with a cute, hand-made book. He shows me the photograph he has pasted in of Williams in her tight black tennis outfit. He analyses the image with unrestrained passion. "This butt is just bionic. It's beyond anything. It's unbelievable. Imagine having access to that?" he says in his creamy whine - part Woody Allen, part Jack Nicholson. "That kind of woman is very underappreciated in the western world. Look at the type of women that are touted in the media."

A little later he adds:

Does he miss anything about America? "For one thing, I guess I miss all those large-butted American women. But also my role as a commentator on that culture."

And I've read up on podcasting. I downloaded iPodder and listened to the latest Al Franken Show from Air America Radio on the way home, free and revolutionary. Great!