Saving the Day With Black Sabbath

The weather has turned ugly again here in New York; uglier than usual because it's so unusual for May, when I should be enjoying the few remaining days of NYC's tolerable season. Instead it's cold and raining and I'm fighting a bitter guerrilla war against an occupation by an invading virus. Prisoners are not taken, my friends. Quarter is not given.

I knew I had to find a way to keep a productive work day from spiraling into a black metal-fueled disgustfest - an event that nearly happened anyway after hearing the peripherally-related but still ultra-downer opening strains of Placebo's "Peeping Tom" - and I knew there was only one guaranteed way to do so: put on the Black Sabbath. Any album would have worked, but Mob Rules happened to catch my eye first and I knew as soon as I heard the opening strains of "The Sing of the Southern Cross" that everything was going to be okay. And also this song makes me feel like a Viking.