I like the Dave Matthews Band's "Under the Table and Dreaming." That particular affection has made me an instant friend to many people ("It's the best band in America") and a social pariah to as many ("I wanna kill that guy"). What can I say? "Under The Table and Dreaming" is a great freaking record. When it came out, I had no idea that the DMB would ally itself with Blues Traveler and Hootie. I didn't know that the band's next few records would be hit-and-miss affairs. I didn't know that it would make specially marked hippies twirl. I just liked "Typical Situation" and "Dancing Nancies." And back then -- in the glorious early mid-1990s -- that record could get you laid. It's true.

"If you were born around 1960 (give or take a few years) you might actually like this site," declares the introduction to Feeling Retro, a site for those of us who know the difference between a "Zig Zag Zoom" and a "Gnip Gnop," sight unseen. With its pages of native content and focused, Me Decade-specific set of links, Feeling Retro is a celebration of the 1970s as I remember them. Here are the ill-conceived television shows (hey, "That's My Mama!"); the too-sugary cereals; the lingering curse of Disco; the classic Saturday morning cartoons; Those Goddamned Brady Kids. Best of all, Feeling Retro features every toy I ever owned, from the aforementioned "Gnop" to the still fabulous "Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots." If I cared enough to be president, the latter would be used to avert wars. Kelsey's site isn't patronizing or overloaded with period graphics, as many "retro" sites tend to be; your focus falls on the content, as it should. If you were there the first time, Feeling Retro is a welcome and warmly sentimental return trip. If you were born after 1975- hey, kids, look at the "Evel Kneivel Stunt Cycle!" Weird, huh? These Gen X'rs - what freaks!
 

"It sits there, just waiting to suck," declared Timothy Olyphant in "Go." The object of Olyphant's disdain wasn't some too-willing succubus (though the film was ripe with them), but Bil Keane's too-long-running single-panel comic, "Family Circus." The same couldn't be said of Dysfunctional Family Circus, a web-based barbecue of the comic at the hands of cruel gearheads that's lasted some, oh, 300 years of web time (since June 1995). A threatening letter from King Features Syndicate shut the enterprise down, but not before the site managed 500 vicious - and truly funny - remix versions of Keane's work. It worked like this: the site would post a captionless Daddy/Billy exchange, and readers sent in a more appropriate caption, something along the lines of "It's MISTRESS Dad, worm," or "No, really - paper crushes the very life out of rock. Now gimme your hand!" If you haven't been to DFC yet, go now before the humorless black hole that is King Features sucks the site clean off the web.
 

I think I watched "Little House on the Prairie" a total of six times. I had nothing against Michael Landon - c'mon, it's Jesus of Malibu! -- but Nellie Oleson scared the living crap out of me. The character - played brilliantly by Allison Arngrim - was the coldest, most nihilistic demon-child ever to churn butter. I mean, H.P. Lovecraft couldn't have written a less sympathetic character, and Cthulu itself couldn't have played her closer to the bone. I was younger and stupid(er) then, and it's not terribly surprising that Arngrim's official site, Confessions of a Prairie Bitch, shines a different light on my recollections - that of cold, hard reality. Landon was a fast-living, barhopping goofball ("Michael wasn't religious in any sense of the word," says Arngrim, not without admiration). Arngrim is now a stand-up comic, an AIDS activist and - whaddya know? - a genuinely charming and funny woman. So, I was wrong. That doesn't mean I'm ever gonna forgive that rotten little strumpet for what she did to Laura.
 

Somebody asked me today why I quit riding a skateboard in 1980. (I'd mentioned it was my primary means of transport for some four years and change.) I gave them the accident equation copout - big hill plus tiny rock equals flying Passenger - but the truth of the matter is, after the accident (which was real, but not serious), I traded my skater up for a bike. Such was the fickle nature of 1970s fads - if you took your eyes off them for five minutes or so, they swam away. Having said that, I think of Bad Fads as a fad taxidermist, catching the speediest ("Cabbage Patch" dolls) and the most predatory (bellbottoms) of those slippery little malcontents, and having them stuffed and mounted for carefree scrutiny. I could have gone the rest of my life without giving thought one to panty raids, Rubik's Cubes, Nehru jackets and CB radios, but now they're in my head and I ... kinda like it. And yes, if I'd known that skateboarding was going to become a big deal on ESPN (or even if there was going to be something called ESPN, or something called "cable television"), I would have taken a few more shiners in the name of faddism.

"Aaaaall the little ants are mar-ching..." Yeah, I know I sound like an idiot. I'll be ashamed later. Right now, I'm just living in the freaking moment, so the hell with y'all. See you next week, all you Trippin' Billies!