Sometimes a lyric pops in your head and won't leave.  We can't explain why.  It's pointless to try.  Occasionally, one will get posted up. 

This one's from Wilco, but from a time when they were in more of a cold, shiftless haze than the sunny optimistic crew that's before you today.  As this experiment continues, I'll try not to pimp Wilco too hard (they're a band that doesn't get nearly enough respect).  But I will say that if I were a pimp, Jeff Tweedy would probably be one of my most profitable hookers.    

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