Jim Croce
My relationship with Jim Croce goes back a looooooong way. He was my dad’s favorite, and when I was little I apparently ruined his Jim Croce 8-track (yes, I’m that old.) And later on in life, I bought him Jim Croce Greatest Hits on CD, so I made amends. But oh, my gosh, did I hear about it in the years between….
I grew up listening to “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown,” “You Don’t Mess Around with Jim,” “Operator,” and “Time in a Bottle.” My dad’s favorite was “I Got a Name,” and we danced to “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song” at my wedding.
Jim Croce’s story is really sad – he died young in a plane crash, leaving behind his wife and young son (named Adrian, coincidentally.) Every time I hear his music, I think about my dad and how much I love him and how lucky I was (and still am) to have him around. I know, I know, it’s kind of a downer, but his music means a lot to me, and I want to pass that down. And everyone needs to know that “you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind” – it’s vital information!
a + k baby 
See, I think that there is real value in exposing this baby to Britney and boy bands. Real value #1 is that by exposing her to bad music, you will only increase her appreciation of good music. Real value #2 is that you can show her through non-example of what she doesn't want to be like. (For example, she will want to wear shoes into gas station rest rooms…) Real value #3 is that – like it or not – all of the aforementioned "musicians" have made at least one awesomely bad song. Thank you, VH1, for coming up with this label. It has made it acceptable to admit liking songs like "I Want to Know What Love Is" and "I'm Too Sexy" because you explain that you like their badness…
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