Waitin' on a Walk

Bee-yooteeful summer day, just heading out for a walk. I wouldn't stay in the apartment even if I wanted to right now, because one of our neighbors seems to be roasting a pig or something and it reeks. But I hafta wait til Richard is done fiddling with the CD player. He's putting all the CDs into categories. He just asked me what category The Residents would fit into, and y'know, I have absolutely no idea. Experimental? Not if you've been experimenting for, like, 30 years. Either the experiment was successful or it wasn't, right? A talk-show host (I think it was Leno, blggh) asked Tim Robbins if his theatre was experimental, and he said, "Oh, no, it works."
If I ever re-categorize the CDs (and I probably won't get to for a looong time 'cause Richard hogs the player like he's the Walrus from Alice in Wonderland and CDs are oysters), I'll come up with some categories like this:

• Hot Dead Guys (Chet Baker, Elvis - wait, I don't have any Elvis, Sinatra, etc.)
• Chicks Who Sound Like Guys (Nina Simone, Tanita Tikram)
• Guys Who Sound Like Chicks (k.d. lang)
• What the @#$%&*!@* Is This? (Tubular Bells, The Residents)