Captain Morgan’s new Tattoo rum is a daring blend of fine Puerto Rican rum with premium and hot spices that precisely mimics the unique, bold flavor of cough syrup. Recommended for anyone relaxing on the beach with a cold.

Winning logic in a New York Times article about the recent Discovery launch and its ensuing trouble, Intense Hunt for Signs of Damage Could Raise Problems of Its Own:

Now that the Discovery is in orbit, the examination begins. Its 12

I consider myself an afficionado of cover songs. Done well, a cover can be preternaturally affective; in emphasizing aspects of the original hidden by production or instrumentation choices, or by revivifying the emotional content of a forgotten predecessor, a good cover shines brilliant light on both the first and current performers. On a more abstract level, good, transcendent covers, especially when performed live, are the ritual glue that keeps the rock and roll religion together.

But as heavenly as good covers can be, some versions would be lucky to get consigned to the lower pits of hell. Case in point: Run Run Run, a local LA band, and their heinous cover of Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You. Listen to it yourself. This abomination sits on their EP Endless Winter, waiting to assault the ears of New Order and Marion fans sucked in by Run Run Run’s former association with guitarist Phil Cunningham. This song is alchemy in reverse. It lies in wait, like a demon, ready to sap all the emotional resonance, vulnerability, and raw evocative power from Hope Sandoval’s singing and turn it into the low-rent emo vocalizations of Run’s Xander Smith. Transubstantiation is a process that takes base matter and evolves it into the divine; Run Run Run do something quite the opposite. Mazzy Star’s music is ethereal, sparse, haunting, beautiful; Run Run Run is misbegotten, overproduced and underthought garbage. The rest of their EP is forgettable. If it weren’t for their attempt at Fade Into You I might dismiss it as merely mediocre.

But this is a song I love, and to hear it get such a bad treatment—it feels like sacrilege to me. Run Run Run, please, please, please, just die die die.

You pick your own race, and that’s the one you run. Only you can finish it; only you know how to even start. But it’s very apparent, even to strangers, whether you have or not. Figure out your goals. Figure out your dreams. Figure out your ideas and beliefs and start running.