Beck's in the Moonlight

Normally I'm not one to go in for the bocks, but to paraphrase an old friend from out West, there's nothing for a successful summer evening like a big huge Beck's.

In my backyard, I could hear Radiohead, probably the new album (slow, minor piano and Thom Yorke quavering as he is wont to do nowadays), playing from the window of the college kids two floors above. The apartment complex next door is nearly finished, and it's a monstrosity -- aluminum, curvy walls. They really gutted that place. But the air was warm and full of the promise of a teenage birthday party.

So I says, not too much can go wrong from here.