In the new "Newsweek" they’ve got "181 Things You Need To Know Now". It’s set up in the manner of a quiz. Like this: "True or False: U.S.’s Broadband Penetration Is Lower Than Even Estonia".

If you guessed false, you obviously haven’t been tracking this story. Turns out the U.S. is 24TH when it comes to broadband penetration. Behind not only Iceland and Finland, but Estonia.

Why does it matter?

Because broadband penetration directly connects to GDP, there’s an economic correlation.

Now for the biggie…

True or False: "High School Musical" had the largest one gig gross on the "Billboard" chart, bigger than Kenny Chesney.

Or, let’s recast it… True or False: KROQ’s Weenie Roast grossed more than Kenny Chesney.

One more time… True or False: Tool outgrossed Kenny Chesney.

If you said TRUE to ANY of the preceding three questions, you don’t know SHIT about the touring business. Kenny Chesney had not only the largest GROSS for a single show, $4,462,709, but the largest ATTENDANCE! 54,372. Yup, Kenny Chesney sold out Heinz Field in Pittsburgh. In other words, Kenny Chesney did a STADIUM SHOW!

Days on the Green? Gigs at Anaheim Stadium? Those are passe. You can collect every band know to man, call it a festival, and sell 50,000 tickets for a two or three day extravaganza. But a one day affair, with a slate of bands?

Yes, Kenny Chesney wasn’t the only act on the bill. You also had Brooks & Dunn, Sugarland, Sara Evans and Pat Green. But don’t cry foul, because with only Sugarland and Pat Green in tow, Kenny Chesney went CLEAN in Tampa, Columbus, New Orleans and West Palm Beach. In arenas holding 14-20,000. The vaunted Tool? Only HALF their shows sold out.

Nelly Furtado, with her big hit records? She couldn’t even SELL OUT in Atlanta, she only did 2,382 at the 4,670 seat Fox.

Looks like more people would rather sway and remember the good times than leave their mind at home and dance.

You’ve been feeling sorry for Kenny Chesney. Wasn’t he the little guy in the cowboy hat taken for a ride by that movie star? Well, Kenny Chesney will still be selling boatloads of tickets when Renee Zellweger can’t even get a role in an indie film.

There’s something happening here, and it ain’t exactly clear.

Used to be the music on Top Forty radio was the biggest. Now Top Forty radio is a SIDESHOW! A niche. Top Forty? Call it the SIDE TWENTY!

And rock… Alternative is a dying format. Active Rock? Do you really want to bang your head that hard?

Rock is dead, RIGHT?

No, it’s just been reinvented as country.

What motivated all those people to go to Heinz Field? It wasn’t a track. Otherwise, all those acts on the Top Forty stations would fill arenas. It’s a STATE OF MIND! A frustration with life, but a belief in the good times. A belief in the ringleader, Kenny Chesney.

We used to believe in our musical acts. Before they became fodder for TMZ. Before they were so busy whoring themselves out to TV shows and corporations that whatever they stood for was obscured.

We played their records. We went to the show and SANG ALONG!

You can’t sing along to what’s on the Top Forty now. You can shake your booty at most. Would you want to have a CONVERSATION with Justin Timberlake? Maybe fuck him, but what would this uneducated twit whose only goal in life was to make it have to SAY?

Kenny Chesney’s got some miles on him, he’s over thirty, and he’s a college graduate. You feel like he’s a friend of yours. You WANT him to be a friend of yours. And believe me, in this overexposed Internet world we live in the star is no longer living in a rarified air, rather right next door to his audience.

I’d heard that Kenny Chesney was the new Jimmy Buffett. Listening to him now, I get it. Kenny’s chronicling life. Not only his, but yours. You’ve got a life, don’t you? Or are you an automaton, like Paris Hilton, with only two expressions, an empty smile and a cry? Life is three-dimensional. There are three dimensions in the country world. If you’re not paying attention, if you’re too hip to pay attention, then you’re missing out on the MAINSTREAM!

Yup, country is mainstream. More than rap. It’s what not only kids, but ADULTS are listening to. Kenny Chesney doesn’t need media saturation to sell only a couple of hundred thousand copies of his record. His fans KNOW about the release. It’s not about REACHING them, they’re PULLING THE INFORMATION!

What do you do when they’re off you, when they suddenly hate you, when nothing you do will bring them back.

Somewhere along the line, Paula Cole became a joke. Sometime between the incessant airplay for "Where Have All The Cowboys Gone" and the ubiquity of "I Don’t Want To Wait". It could have been her airy-fairiness. Maybe the way she took herself so seriously. Or maybe her underarm hair.

Funny, in a country where rappers shoot each other and people bleed all over the screen, we’re offended by mother nature. Then again, she flaunted it, it was a badge of honor. It was like Paula Cole functioned in an alternative universe. So we made fun of her. And then she was done. Just another late nineties one hit wonder. Well, in this case, two hits.

But almost fifteen years ago, before her hits, long before Napster, when the business was expanding rather than contracting, Paula Cole was the great hope of a new start-up label known as Imago Records, formed by one half of the famed Chrysalis team, Terry Ellis.

Despite failing to chart, Paula Cole’s first album, "Harbinger", included a stunner of a track. "I Am So Ordinary".

There are some people who are winners. They make the decisions. The world is their oyster. Then there’s the rest of us. We’re not quite good-looking enough, not quite rich enough. We yearn to be popular, one of the group, to have the rewards of society, but even though we try, we keep getting bounced out, we get a little traction and then we lose our grip.

Sometimes we know they’re just passing through, we’ve only got them for a little while. We’re just not enough. Our totality doesn’t fill their cup. We’ll give them everything, but they want something different.

In "I Am So Ordinary", Paula is devoted to a man. She says he can use her, not to abandon her, because he NEEDS her.

But he doesn’t seem to be aware of this.

You know how you know? THEY DON’T WANT YOU TO MEET THEIR PARENTS!

That’s the definitive test. If they go back home without you, if their ‘rents come to town and the logistics bar connection, then you know you’re never going to win this battle, you’re always going to remain on the outside. Oh, they’ll call you in the middle of the night, scared of the dark, they’ll push their body onto yours, but when it counts, in public, they’re nowhere to be seen. You tell yourself they’re going to wake up, they’re going to realize how much they need you, how they’re less without you, but rationality doesn’t seem to be a factor, they break it off and move on.

Paula Cole FEELS ordinary, inadequate. The fact that you rejected her, just when she felt free to reveal her true identity in public caused her to retreat into the woodwork, take herself off the stage, in the hope that you’d forget her. The pain was just too much.

Do you feel ordinary? Do you look in the mirror and see the imperfections? Do you try out your best lines on the opposite sex and get empty stares in return? Paula does. And when she sees his new paramour on the back of his motorcycle, a woman prettier and more talented, she dies on the inside.

I’ve died on the inside. I’ve taken to my bed. Laid prone. Feeling worthless. And the music I want to listen to is something akin to "14" from Paula Cole’s new album.

I got e-mail from this woman Kim Zimmer. Somewhere in far Eastern Canada, a woman I’ve never met. She had this to say:

"If you’re looking for inspiration from a real artist who speaks honestly from the heart, check out the video Paula Cole has put on her website. (In the About section, page down to the Where has Paula been? video.)"

Real artist? Well, I don’t know about that. But, I loved "I Am So Ordinary", and can still listen to "I Don’t Want To Wait", and Paula was great on Peter Gabriel’s "Secret World Live", so I clicked through.

Paula looked a little fuller, a little older. Like someone from the old neighborhood you hadn’t seen in a few years, but whom you knew. And there was this lack of certitude that appealed to me. Bobby Colomby convinced her to make another record, she was DONE! And this was what she’d created.

Well, that’s not all. There was also enough new age philosophy to turn anybody’s stomach. I guess Paula Cole really is that art chick. Not the beautiful one in high school you wanted to fuck, but the WEIRD ONE! Still, the music… The feel appealed to me. Reminded me of lying on my high school bed reading "Cat’s Cradle", in my own little world, removed from society. And there was this one couplet I couldn’t get out of my mind.

But I was 14 with my passion,
And 15 with my best.

I felt that this song was a reflection upon Paula’s teenage years. Before you’re completely beaten down by society, when you believe you can still win.

Now I’m not so sure. Now I think the numbers represent a scale, akin to Nigel Tufnel saying his amp goes to 11 in "Spinal Tap". Paula delivered MORE than enough in so many categories. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Your eyes they conjure up those Cliffs of Moher,
Far away and not listening anymore,
Dreaming of life on another shore,
Not here, not now, with me, the bore.

I had to google "Cliffs of Moher". Turns out they’re in Ireland. Was the man Paula had her child with from Ireland?

But whoever he is, he’s not LISTENING ANYMORE! Nothing’s more frustrating. When you’re talking and it’s like you’re not. He’s gone. Because she’s a bore.

Can you be honest about yourself? Everybody trying to make it in the entertainment world says how fucking GREAT THEY ARE! Paula’s evidencing something beyond self-doubt, she’s MORTIFIED! What’s worse than to be BORING!

So I stop talking and fade to bleak,
Feeling insignificant, atrophied and weak.
Even though it’s not who I know myself to be,
The Queen, the Confidence,
Doesn’t speak.

I stopped talking. It just wasn’t worth it. And I haven’t quite recaptured the ability to let it all out, I’m not quite back on the bicycle. And believe me, "bleak" is a proper description, any hope you have is minimal and fleeting. Deep inside you believe you’re someone different. Believe me, I can be the life of the party. But that happens so rarely anymore. Rather, I’m the listener, as so-called friends inundate me with their stories, their everyday comings and goings.

But I was 14 with my passion,
And 15 with my best.
16 with my ego,
And zero with the rest.
My heart is a P.O.W. tangled in my chest,
I don’t know how to communicate in a cardiac arrest.

Like I said, I don’t know exactly what Paula means here, what the numbers refer to. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it. I know that someone will e-mail me the truth, they’ll be laughing at me. Or, as soon as I hit "send" it will come to me. But I comprehend the underlying concept. Of not being enough. Of being a superstar in certain areas, but batting zero in others. And feeling bad about yourself, and feeling their contempt, you DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!

So I stop talking, baby, cause you always want me to shut up.
Take the center stage meanwhile I become your trusted, silent prop.
So take good care, this mighty woman’s ready to explode,
Fire here below the surface of my volcano.

Oh, you think you’re the winner, the leader in the relationship. And then suddenly everything flips, goes topsy-turvy. You lose all your confidence, suddenly they seem out of your league, poised and perfect, smarter and more erudite than you could ever hope to be.

Then they’re gone. And at first you lick your wounds, then you get ANGRY!

But there’s no one to listen, no one to vent your anger to.

I’ve yelled in front of the mirror. On my way from the bedroom to the kitchen. Driving down the freeway. It comes upon me suddenly, the rejection, the disappointment, not only in love, but business. There’s RAGE!

Rickie Lee Jones did an album entitled "Girl At Her Volcano". Consider me to be the boy at his volcano. But rather than a piano, I’m banging on a keyboard, sitting in front of the computer, just hoping someone will listen, trying to convince myself that I matter.

To listen to "14", go to: Paula Cole, "14" is the song that starts to play after the page fully loads.

 Holyfuckingshit.

I’m not getting an iPhone. First and foremost because it’s tied to AT&T, and AT&T sucks. I could count the ways… Well, let me. Lost connections, shitty sound, lame high speed network… But AT&T isn’t my only reason for not lining up next week. I’m addicted to e-mail, I need it instantly, as soon as it comes in, I need a BlackBerry.

If you’re an e-mail person, if you need your messages automatically pushed to you, get a BlackBerry. It’s the Cadillac of the sphere.

But it’s not the BMW. And certainly not the Toyota. To use any of the additional features on the BlackBerry… Well, you can navigate the built-in help. But that’s so fucking slow and confusing that you only do it when you’re waiting in a doctor’s office, or killing time on the train, because it takes five or ten minutes MINIMUM to find what you’re looking for. If you can at all.

You see the BlackBerry just isn’t intuitive.

And the Web-surfing? I do it, but it’s not like using Safari. It’s not like being in front of my computer. How come I can’t have a simple homepage that’s always the same? How come when I want to change a setting on my BlackBerry it’s almost impossible, I have to go ONLINE for the answer?

But I’ve been living down on the farm, I haven’t been to Paree.

I just watched the iPhone Guided Tour. Now I’ve been to Paree.

Will the iPhone be successful? That’s an interesting question that I am not going to debate right now. Could be it’s just the Macintosh. An overpriced device way ahead of its time. But that 1984 Macintosh, it contained the essence of computing today. The icons, the point and click interface…there’s been refinement since, but no revolution.

Watch this iPhone demo. And you’ll realize, instantly, that you’re seeing the future of mobile devices. Those Nokias, Motorolas and LGs will never be the same again, never mind the BlackBerries and Treos.

Sure, the iPhone looks cool. But the essence is not the hardware, but the SOFTWARE! The USABILITY! They say that Mac users employ more applications, utilize more features of their computers than PC users? Well, iPhone users are gonna do shit on their handheld device that you wouldn’t even DREAM of doing on your smartphone. Because even if the device contained the feature, YOU WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE IT!

I still can’t do conference calling on my BlackBerry. And using the speakerphone is a challenge too. But on the iPhone, the buttons on the bottom of the screen…THEY’RE SELF-EXPLANATORY! If you’ve been using a Mac, the learning curve will be almost NONEXISTENT!

And the features we’ve all wanted but have never found… Like being able to fast-forward through individual voice mail messages, to repeat salient features, like a phone number… No other handset I’ve used allows you to do this!

I’m waiting for Jobs and Apple to fuck this one up.

But it hasn’t happened yet. From the jaw-dropping reveal at Macworld in January to the announcement of the on-sale date to the ads to this demo, execution has been PERFECT! How come NO OTHER COMPANY CAN DO THIS?

Really, this demo… It’s just an explanation of how the iPhone works. But you stay riveted, you want to click and buy the damn thing, because it’s so well done, so professional, so easily understood. They’re not talking above or beneath you. You get the idea that you could get an iPhone and be comfortable IMMEDIATELY!

Oh, teenagers can navigate the menus of their handsets. But nearly every adult I know is challenged by his mobile device. Shit, haven’t they just come out with phones that do LESS for oldsters?

It’s kind of like VCRs. Boomers could never figure out how to use them. A TiVo is just a glorified VCR, but with better SOFTWARE!

That’s what Apple’s got here, better software. No one can compete with them, probably ever, or at least in the next five years. Because you’ve got real OS X with features laden atop it. Windows Mobile? ARE YOU KIDDING?

There’s no instant push e-mail. The keyboard might not be for road warriors. Will you be able to see the screen in the sun?

The battery’s not removable. It’s a Jobs device, it’s the one HE wanted to make, not the one the committee would approve of. But he got it right with the iPod. From the looks of it, he got it right with the iPhone too. The iPod wasn’t the first MP3 player, just the most easily used, the best. From the looks of it, the iPhone is a category killer. And the people buying iPhones won’t all be Mac users, no, with iTunes and the iPod Steve Jobs has convinced those living on the dark side of Apple’s superiority. Why SHOULDN’T the iPhone work? Their iPod does!

The original Macintosh was underpowered and overpriced. It didn’t have a hard disk. You had to swap floppies constantly. None of this was in the "1984" ad. We won’t know how great the iPhone truly is until next weekend. But one thing’s for sure, it’s a breakthrough, it’s the future, TODAY!

Country is a state of mind. It’s about family and hearth, boozing and telling your story. Oh, it’s not only the pretty faces singing the songs of writers for hire, the tent is bigger than that, it’s got room for the authenticity of Steve Earle and all the players in Austin. But it’s not about corporate America first, Madison Avenue and the big bucks. It’s about a scene, that doesn’t garner enough respect. If I lived in Nashville, if I was in the country music business, I’d freeze Bon Jovi out, labeling them as the carpetbaggers they truly are.

Bon Jovi made one spectacular album, the best hair metal record of all time, and they’ve been coasting on their laurels ever since. You can chalk up "Slippery When Wet"’s success to two people, and they’re not Jon Bon Jovi or Richie Sambora, but Desmond Child and Bruce Fairbairn. Desmond provided the tunes, and Bruce turned them into anthems.

Oh, they tried to repeat the formula with "New Jersey", but this effort was as futile as AC/DC trying to follow up "Back In Black" with "For Those About To Rock We Salute You". Bon Jovi stumbled into a formula, and like the cold, calculating businessman he truly is, Jon Bon Jovi tried to repeat it, seemingly note for note. Hell, that’s what he did with his movie theme. I love "Blaze Of Glory", but he could sue himself for PLAGIARISM!

But then Bon Jovi, believing they truly had the talent, stopped working with the mastermind Fairbairn, and except for the two cuts cowritten with Mr. Child on "Keep The Faith" (the title cut and "I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead"), the album was forgettable. Hell, Bon Jovi has never done anything great since.

But all those boys and girls lost their virginity to "Livin’ On A Prayer". "Slippery When Wet" was the soundtrack to their high school years. They want to pay inflated prices to go see the band live, to remember when they still had hair, before babies ruined their figures.

Oh, Bon Jovi works it. The man with no heart makes deals with the NFL, he keeps himself in the public eye. He and his band just can’t get any significant radio action, no traction where the new fans reside, no purchase on the consciousness of America at large, and this must drive Jon NUTS!

So, rather than accepting his fate, rather than making better music, rather than biting the hand that feeds him, railing against not only rock radio, but Top Forty, Bon Jovi’s left for greener pastures. The country world. Where guitars are still welcome.

Jon whoops it up before the verse even begins, like he’s a cowboy at a rodeo. And affects an arena rock voice that he tempers down seemingly for intimacy, even though it’s straightforward honesty that works in the country world. But it gets worse, is that a fucking BANJO I HEAR IN THE BACKGROUND?

This is akin to blackface. Jon and his crew have just embraced the TRAPPINGS of country, to try and move in and make a buck.

Of course they couldn’t write the song themselves. But rather than employing a Nashvilleite, they’ve got John Shanks cowriting here. As if the heart of country was HOLLYWOOD!

"Lost Highway" is so calculated, such a dash for cash, that if one weren’t so deeply offended, one would LAUGH!

But this is bigger than Bon Jovi. Why is it that these rockers have to cross the line and adjust their sound for country radio? What’s wrong with rock music that traditional stations won’t play it?

Rock on the radio? Well, it’s basically classic. Or shit so hard your head is gonna explode. If you’re three chords and a guitar, you’re fucked, you’d better get a day job. The sound you play, the sound of America, THERE’S NO ROOM FOR IT!

It’s like some bizarre political story. Country sans natural resource invades its mineral rich neighbor to take what it needs. Bon Jovi doesn’t WANT to go country, but they need to stay big, need to be an arena act, be all over the media, and if that means they’ve got to invade a completely different radio format SO BE IT!

Now I’m not saying you can’t be country if you’re from New Jersey. Country’s a state of mind. But if you’ve been hanging at the Power Station strumming your Les Paul in a wall of sound chances are you’ve got NO INTEREST in picking up an acoustic and picking it as you tell tales of pickup trucks in the barren flatlands. Don’t you remember? Tommy used to work on the DOCKS! There’s no water in Nashville, no place they’re unloading cargo from far far away.

Rockers see country radio like fat girls. Think they’re both easy. Well, I’ll tell you, fat girls are people too. They’ve got their dignity. They won’t spread their legs for just ANYBODY! Hell, there’s a fat girl SCENE, just like there’s a country music SCENE! If you want to fuck a fat girl, you’ve got to respect her. And if you want to play country, you’ve got to respect the medium. There’s no respect here. Just a wink and a smile as the Nashville world is used for Bon Jovi’s ends.

If I lived in Nashville, if I worked in country music, if I was a country music fan, I’d only have two words for Bon Jovi: FUCK YOU!