Although I tend to share Cary's gloomy view of social rituals, particularly of bachelor parties, I'm afraid everyone's missing the very bright side to all of this. The lady attending the party is clearly the chaperone. The woman who has most at risk at this event is the guest of honor's fiancee. If she recognizes that the woman in question is the groom's best friend, and if she gives her blessing to the woman's invite, I can only see good in all of this.

At some point during the evening, I bet the groom and his best friend spend five solid minutes talking about how wonderful the bride-to-be is before the groom proceeds to drink himself to oblivion.

I'm going to opt for the happier cliche.

"Layla" is not a "pretty good" record, it's generally acknowledged by critics to be one of rock's monuments, while the Cream albums are known for being inconsistent. This isn't just rock-fan-barroom-debate argument; it's the key to understanding Clapton.

Whereas Cream was Exhibit A of soloist's excess, Derek and the Dominoes showed Clapton never in the spotlight alone. Singing with Bobby Whitlock, playing with Duane Allman, Clapton buried himself in a Phil Spector-like wall of guitars. On the title track, half of the song is given to Jim Gordon's piano while Allman and Clapton play filigrees around the edges.

Much of Clapton's finest work has come when he took the supporting role. Aretha Franklin, Billy Joel, Roger Waters, Delaney and Bonnie, and the Beatles are just a few he has backed. Even his work with John Mayall and Blind Faith can be seen as examples of Clapton tamping his ego.

Clapton's love of the team dynamic exemplified by The Band exhibits the over-riding aspect of his personality; his primary effort has been to lose himself, even in finding himself.

Considering the flak ABBA gets for its lyrics, they were often very witty. One of my all-time favorite lines is this gem: "The history book on the shelf/Keeps on repeating itself." I believe that some of their supposed clumsiness was tongue-in-cheek, like the pigeon-English of "Chiquitita you and I cry" and "I could sing before I could tawk."

They had a knack for writing about characters, often in character, such as the dominating go-getter of "Head Over Heels," the woman-with-a-past who settles for Harry ("Our Last Summer"), and the would-be gold digger in "Money Money Money." Is there any doubt that the dance-with-'em and leave-'em girl of "Dancing Queen" grew up to be the sexual adventuress of "Voulez-Vouz"?

Of course, it was ABBA's tuneful musicality which put these songs on radios and turntables. The songs were unusually structured ("The Name of the Game"), the production imaginative ("Take a Chance," "Fernando"), and the feel of the music matched the lyrics ("S.O.S.," "I Am the City").

As for musicianship, ABBA's bassist Ruttgar Gunnarson demonstrated time after time that he was a world-class talent; his work on "Dancing Queen" in particular gives the song its lift.

It was the uptight white male establishment that tried to beat down disco in the late 70's for its enthusiastic sexuality, which reached out to women, minorities, and homosexuals. Those same uptight guys recoil from the assertiveness ("Take it now or leave it") and vulnerability ("Would you laugh at me if I said I cared for you?") of ABBA. More than anything, they fear the strength of these women.

I know, I spend too much time thinking about these things. I recognize the group's clunkers, which are plenty and obvious. My ABBA-love is not absolute; I just love them about the same amount as Steely Dan, or Wilco.

As for supposed fashion crimes, their asses looked great in polyester.

Gillibrand has presented herself as a strikingly thoughtful and articulate young representative. She pulled off a huge upset two years ago in a long-time Republican district, and has weathered the storms of the last couple of years well.

It is also true that her Republican opponent has been saturating our airwaves with only one message: She's raising taxes! She's raising taxes! I hate to think that this simplistic message which has worked so well since Reagan still is working, when we should all be declaring the death of Reaganism. I have no idea how the opponent is polling.

It doesn't look to me like this mess is dividing along party lines. For crying out loud, even Dubya is for this package. It does have a lot to do with what our elected officials hear from their constituents, what they choose to hear, and what they choose to disregard.

CP is always wrong, and this time she started in the headline. Mark me down as a vote for "waste of cyberspace." And don't use me as an example of "well, at least she gets everyone reading and thinking."

The outer-most of Cramer's many layers is a squirming pulp of masculine need, striving not for control, which is way beyond hope, but for a clear perception of the universe he inhabits. He is the id to Madonna's ego. If only he would learn to harness his impulses within the grey flannel strictures of the real Wall Street, he might find happiness. Perhaps Madonna can lend her harness.

In his innermost layers, Cramer knows that his persona is doomed. In our media age, a media star of any magnitude needs to be a shape-shifter. And stars need to be set free, unmoored not just from location, but from orientation. Cramer's facade does not change as a climbing flower seeking the place of enlightment; no, he changes as a manic-depressive, one moment volcanic as he insists that Bear is strong, then kittenish as he begs people to buy Bear.

The theater of Cramer is more sexual than it is financial. If you want financial information, read a prospectus. With someone you trust.