" data-original-title="" title="">Duke Ellington saying "There are only two kinds of music: good and bad." But isn't that subjective? Wouldn't there be shades of that, like"pretty good" and "somewhat bad?" And who gets to decide, anyway?

—Mid Mike

Dear MM:

It's my friend Dave! If he likes it, he says it's good, and if he doesn't like it, he says it's bad. So easy!

Dave doesn't hear shades—to his ears nothing is "pretty good" or "somewhat bad," and that's what makes him perfect for the job. It's a lot of responsibility to carry, but Dave doesn't mind a bit, especially when he drinks! In fact, when he drinks, he can make his decisions even faster. So we try to keep Dave drunk all the time, especially when we're in a hurry to find out which kind of music we're hearing.

Extra bonus: When Dave drinks, he takes bribes. If I like a song that Dave says is bad, I just slip him a drink and a twenty; problem solved!

I know what you're wondering, MM, and the answer is scotch.

Deleted

Dear Mr. P.C.:

If you quote a song in your solo, then regret it, is there a way to unquote it?

—Quote Quota Querier

Dear QQQ:

Just as your computer's "backspace" button deletes a bad word backward, letter by letter, you have to replay the quote, note by note, backward. It may feel rude turning your back to the audience, but if you look like most jazz musicians, that's your better side anyway.

Excreted

Dear Mr. P.C.:

Homestays! I've finally gotten old enough that I feel like I can ask for my own room at night when we're touring. Now comes the counter-offer: Sure, you'll get your own room, but it's in a house, hosted by nice people.

But what if I don't want to be around people, even "nice" people, when I come back from a gig? There doesn't seem to be a nice way for me to turn down a homestay without seeming anti-social. What do I do?

—Touring, I Require Evening Downtime

Dear TIRED:

The problem didn't start with you not wanting to stay with the nice people; it began with the nice people wanting you as a guest.

"Nice" or not, there's something wrong with them—why else would they welcome a misanthrope like you into their home? Maybe they want to show off their fancy stereo system playing music you can't stand, make you sleep on a lumpy futon, or try out some weird new breakfast food on you. But most likely, there's a hidden camera in the bathroom to capture your most filthiest moments.

Obviously, they're hoping that having you around will be worse for you than for them. I suggest you take that as a challenge, starting with the toilet-cam.

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