I'm trying to be responsible and listen to the CDs people send me (ok, at least a few of them).
But Rapster sent me your Dillanthology 3 disc, filled with 14 classic cuts I've already heard hundreds of times before, and damn it if I can't get it out of my CD player. I know it's not 2004. I don't rock a backpack anymore. But in a world of Passion Pits and Vampire Weekends, I long for a day when white kids' taste didn't match their pale, pasty skin.