It isn't a good idea to do anything today that you haven't previously considered, my horoscope tells me. Finally, some parameters I can live within, and just to prove the accuracy of the prediction, witness my dismay after, while checking my e-mail, I inexplicably clicked on a link reading Heather Mills McCartney slams media. Says Ms. Mills, driven to the edge by bad publicity in the tabloids: ��We've had death threats, I've been close to suicide. I'm so upset about this,� she said on an ITV television morning show. �I've had worse press than a pedophile or a murderer and I've done nothing but charity for 20 years.��

As I contemplated the charity involved in conducting a tumultuous personal relationship with a Beatle and participation in a televised dance competition, I decided that the horoscope was right. It�s best if I don�t stray too far from the routine. I�m going to sit tight, engage in some cramps management, maybe apply some facial moisturizer, and eat some motherfuckin' candy corn.

I am not in costume today, unless you count the mask of polite composure that facilitates my interactions with coworkers. Again, that�s not outside the norm. I am thinking about tossing together a costume for a gathering this evening. Because I�ll probably have to work late, packing boxes of Post-Its, I plan to wear what I have on, but with full Paul Stanley face makeup, ca 1977. I already have the hair, so it�s not taunting destiny too much.

I have some other ideas here, but today, I want to focus on something else, which is my friend Maximo and his great idea. Maximo worked with the Keelhauler on the Mississippi River several years back�mostly for the amusement, I believe, as he is a writer, and not generally given to running about on ice-covered barges, carrying lengths of rusty cable. He and the Keelhauler have maintained their friendship over the years, and I got to meet Maximo in Minneapolis a while back, at the Loring Park condo he shared with his lovely girlfriend Samantha. Since then, we�ve been e-mail correspondents, and today I received this:

OK, so here's the deal. Write me with your idea for the worst concept album you can think of. I'll think of something to send the winner.

Here's mine:

Believe It (... Or Not!) Kenny G. and Friends

This album is dedicated to one song, the one with the lyrics, "Believe it or not I'm walking on air."

Each track is sung by the most wretched one-hit-wonder female pop star you can imagine (L ike the one who sang that wonderful ditty, "Where have all the Cowboys gone?" or Natalie Imbrulia, and believe me I had to ask Samantha for that name, who sang that pathos-filled ballad, Torn, over and over again every time you turned on the TV, back in the day).

Wickedly wretched, you say, but there's more. Each version of the song in this 3 CD box set is accompanied by Kenny G. who not only has long instrumentals within each version, but also painfully lengthy transitional solos between each vocal track lasting at least as long as each song.

A perfect holiday gift for that someone in your life who can't figure out you just want to be left alone.

Because co-opting the work of others is perfectly within my range of normal behavior, I am not violating the rules of the cosmos when I say that although this is technically Maximo�s contest, I would like to extend the idea to all of you. Please send in your ideas for a great Album. Do it today! Or e-mail it to me.

For inspiration, here is a description of the greatest concept album of all time, at McSweeney�s. I might choose, as my favorite, Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by the Alan Parsons Project--an album of songs inspired by the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and which album the Keelhauler actually owned and could sing songs from. And yet we did not break up. This proves the power of true love, friends, and never forget it.

And now, back to the motherfuckin' candy corn.

Star of the day. . .Robert Fripp