Bruce Springsteen is on the brain this morning, mainly because everybody's talking about his halftime performance during the Super Bowl last night, and tickets just went on sale for his upcoming show at the Pepsi Center. I got a copy of the new disc on Friday and have only had a chance to really give it one good spin so far. Clearly haven't spent as much time as I'd like yet, nor as much as the dudes who detected the melodious kinship of "Outlaw Pete" to an old Kiss tune. Now, of course, since I
Lori Midson​Contrary to popular belief, the perfectly contoured, come-hither tongue in the above photo does not belong to Gene Simmons. Or to his long-lost cousin, brother, son, groundskeeper, guitar tuner, leather cleaner, ass-kisser, make-up artist or chauffeur. It is, in fact, the tongue of an adorable, smart-mouthed (in all the good ways) bartender who curls his index finger to summon smitten women (and maybe men, too; who knows?) to his bar to retrieve their cocktails -- or, in this case,
