Actually, the Passenger always wanted to be a DJ - getting' all freaky-deaky on the wheels of steel, juggling stacks of records as if they were chainsaws, reaching for that well-worn Herbie Mann vinyl to get that 105 beat-per-minute flute loop I could use for a Beck segue. I suppose, in a way, that's what I'm trying to do here - mixing up words and phrases and clauses into an all-night, half-naked pop culture rave, a full-on jam that will either melt your brain or send you flying across the room, booty first. Wave those glowsticks! Put on that goofy-assed stuffed animal backpack! The Passenger is in the house, yo!
 

This is the dawning of the age of ukulele. You just don't know it yet. The Ukulele Diner should help you to make the changeover with a minimum of fuss, with a an unofficial biography of the instrument, a Hall of Fame for notable players and uke boosters, some swell photos of The King and his ukes, tales of Ukulele giant Roy Smeck, and a touching tribute to Tiny Tim, a giant of the genre and a true gentleman. Done tongue-in-cheek but with a real love and respect for the instrument and those who have mastered it, the Ukulele Diner is a fan page whose devotion to its subject borders on the divine. One of the Passenger's earliest role models was Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards, and while I've never even held the instrument in my hands, this page brings me closer to the late Edwards - the voice of Jiminy Cricket. Uke on, brother.
 

At once hilarious, angry, thought-provoking and puzzling, the essays of Brett Leveridge are a must-read for anyone who's ever sucked air. (Don't start, kid - I'm hooked! Ba-dum-dum-dum.) BrettNews is exceptional at every point of the compass. His bemused recollections of "Men My Mother Dated," his trek across the great bulge of America and his forays into the world of public radio are all winners. Reading this stuff is like devouring an entire bag of potato chips, one after the other, except for the part where you go into that Olestra-induced coma. And his comparison of corporate downsizing and romantic ruin is apt. Perhaps a little too apt.
 

Maybe, just maybe, Stanley Kubrick isn't working on a movie at all. Maybe the production of his psycho-sexual drama "Eyes Wide Shut" is just a front for Kubrick's disappearance and rumors of this never-ending shoot - supposedly beginning on November 4, 1996 - are intended to cover Kubrick's tracks while he continues his search for ... a door to a parallel world? His evil twin? The perfect vegetarian chili dog? And once he's found the object of his desire, he'll come back to work, shoot the damn movie in two weeks and be done with it. All conjecture aside, the Kubrick Multimedia Archive is a dynamite look at the reclusive director, putting aside any critical brickbats in favor of sounds and visuals from his distinguished oeuvre. It may be longer still before we can enjoy Stanley's unique vision, but that's a small price to pay for the completion of one man's spiritual odyssey. Stop worrying, already, and just love that bomb.