Four Days in Denver

Last week, I wrote a blog for OurChart on the DNC in Denver. I'm sorry it took this long to get it up on my site, but I have been stymied by trying to come up with lyrics for my new hit, I Kissed Sarah Palin (yuck):

Day 1

My mom picked me up at the airport. I am from here. I moved away 20 years ago, but I still follow the Broncos - just to give you some background info. On the plane, a temporary crown fell out while eating the complimentary wee bag of pretzels. You see, last week a molar cracked all the way to the root. (The dentist said it could have been because of my sometimes bad habit of chewing ice or an extra hard carrot.)

Anyway, if I smiled wide, I looked like an inbred hillbilly - this was not the image that I wanted to present. So, instead of going downtown to the Convention, I went to my mom's dentist. And that wasn't all... When I opened my guitar case after the plane ride, my Collins (a really fancy guitar) had a huge crack in it also. I had to get that fixed, too. Everything was falling apart! So, my day was shot, but in the evening I had a show at Red Rocks with Apples in Stereo. I played a few relevant protest songs, including the one about my secret affair with Condoleezza Rice. But the highlight was a duet with my 75-year-old mom of Nelly's Hot in Herre... really.

I hope to have a better and more informative post tomorrow. I will play at the Huffington Post Oasis lounge, will try to look for and interview crazy right-wing protesters and will take advantage of the free food and alcohol.

Oh, here is a shirt I stole from my friend: Lost meets Obama:

Day 2

It has been great to see my hometown look like a real vibrant city. Downtown is crowded - the bars and restaurants are packed and the police are in full riot gear. The other thing that is different is that the town is chock full of celebrities from Hollywood to Washington. Now Denver is no hillbilly town, but one is not used to seeing... stars - minus the local weatherman and one of the Broncos' wives. So, I thought it would be great to take my mom to all my events.

First stop: The Huffington Post Oasis lounge. The idea of the Oasis is a space where harried and multi-wired bloggers and delegates can chill out, tune out, get a massage or a free yoga lesson, while of course... still networking. Arianna asked if I could provide some music. However, when I got there, the head yoga woman asked me what my music was like - she was worried I would ruin the vibe. She pretty much told me not to play.

Now, I'm not Yanni, but I'm certainly not the Buzzcocks. Anyway, I was very okay with that, and was happy to just hang out and have a mini-facial. Plus my mom got to meet Will.i.am, who said, "your daughter is really talented." That would have been more impressive if my mom knew who he was. But she was excited to hang out with Fred Armisen - she knows his Prince impression.

After two fun and, yes, relaxing hours, we were about to leave when Arianna came up and asked, "Jill, when are you playing?"

I told her that the yoga woman told me not to. She said, "No, you should play." Now, when Arianna tells you to do something... you do it. She is tall, beautiful and badass. So I sat on the couch and did my best new-age guitar playing.

Next Stop: The Human Rights Campaign's "Rock to Win." We walked in to 3,000 ecstatic homosexuals cheering Hillary on the giant TV screen. I was so glad that my mom was with me to experience the love and energy of the community - as well as see Rufus Wainwright and Cyndi Lauper perform. Hillary did what she needed to do, but more importantly... my mom met more celebrities. Here she is with Margaret Cho.

Day 3

It was an exciting day. I left the world of hobnobbing and mini-facials (the Huffington Post Oasis Lounge) for good old-fashioned lefty politics.

I was very grateful to be included in a panel of The People Speak, a forthcoming documentary film from Howard Zinn (The People's History of the United States) and producer Chris Moore (Project Greenlight). The People's History was the main textbook in my Freshman Poli-Sci class and has been an influence on me ever since.

Among the presenters were Josh Brolin reading a stirring and disturbing Dalton Trumbo passage, Rosario Dawson reciting an Emma Goldman speech and Kerry Washington channeling Cindy Sheehan. I (the least famous, for sure, and lucky to be there) sang two old timey Joe Hill songs. I also met Staceyann Chin, badass spoken word poet and OurChart contributor! Her reading of a Marge Piercy poem shook me out of any performance anxiety I might have had.

Now, like I said, I was there for the politics, but I still had my mom to think of. In my last post, I told you that Denver does not get many celebrities. So, one of my goals for the week was to have my mom meet as many as she could. She will be the envy of her Mahjong friends.

After the panel, I was hoping to catch my friend Wayne Kramer and Rage Against the Machine. I was too late, but I got to walk through the protesters and the riot police (who looked a lot like ninja turtles). Everything seemed relaxed and peaceful when I was there, although a little pepper spray might have spiced this blog up. There is always tomorrow.

Day 4

The highlight, of course, was being at Mile-High Stadium (I refuse to call it Invesco Field) to see Obama speak. It was worth waiting in the three-hour line to get in. Along the way, there where colorful people selling everything from Obama buttons, T-shirts and pennants to homemade CDs of original songs about Obama.

There, of course, was the lone loon with a "you are all headed for hell" sign. My seat was close to Pluto (not even a planet). The speakers looked like little dots, but I didn't care, as the energy was incredible - plus I could see it all on the big screen. The only thing I could compare it to (in my life) was seeing the Broncos (at Mile-High) beat Oakland for the AFC championship and... watching the pyrotechnics go off when Paul McCartney went into the big section of "Live and Let Die." I know that's lame, but I was young, okay?

The thing that really struck me the most was... the flag waving. I am no flag burner, but I have never been a flag waver. I know it's wrong, but I always associated it with pro-war, far right wing, homo-hating intolerants. And what a shame: despite all our sins (as cataloged by Howard Zinn), the stars and stripes are also pretty great. That night, I was proud to be an American (like the Lee Greenwood song). I saw the multitudes around me picking up their free flags and waving them with joy. I lifted mine high - like a foam finger at a Broncos game... but better.

By the way, on a whim, I did a goofy version of I Kissed a Girl (classic) with my pals Wendy and Lisa. Please forgive the added 7th grade lyrics at the end. Enjoy.

3:07 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Gyms, Quincy and Bark Obama

I decided to finally join a gym. I have delayed the process as:  one, it's not really my bag (exercising), and two... I hate gyms. Especially the big ones where people wear the fancy gym clothes and have really good, but stupid, arm muscles. Well, I finally found a tiny humble gym where nobody goes – and it's walking distance from my house.

Today was my first day. I went on the elliptical machine... the one with the TV attached. It only had 12 working stations, including six in Spanish and 3 religious ones.  On channel 17, I learned that Obama is probably not the Anti-Christ. Thank God! This came from Christian author, Tim Le Hay, who gave us the Left Behind series. I actually read one of them on an airplane.

Then I switched to ...Quincy. He was investigating a case where a gymnast had fallen off the balance beam and died. It turned out she really died because she had some kind of thyroid problem and was fed amphetamines by the coach. My favorite scene was when Jack Klugman tells her parents the truth. And they reply, "Are you calling our daughter a speed freak?"

What was interesting is how the sport has evolved. The girls were showing off their Olympian skills, and it was so lame compared to what I saw two nights ago in Beijing. But they all had that Mary Lou Retton haircut.

I think this must be the most boring post that I have ever done.  Quincy?

But now I am going to push a friend's product: PetsVote.com. You can get your dog involved in the campaign. You can either go for "Bark Obama" or " McCanine." If you go on the site, you can see that the Obama dog shirt is outselling McCain almost 4 to 1. I wish the real polls were that good for "Bark."

It got me thinking about this: What if you were at a dog park and single, and it was one of those dog parks that I read about somewhere, where people walk their dogs as an excuse to meet other singles.  And you meet this really attractive guy or girl who is really smart and had a compatible sense of humor. And his/her rescue dog really likes your rescue dog. And then, you plan to meet again at the same time tomorrow. You are excited and nervous; you get both yourself and your rescue dog groomed. Then, you meet him/her, look into each other's eyes; you get all goofy; you look down, and then see... his/her dog has on a "McCanine" shirt. What would you do?

Update: Now that Biden is in, could they make... "Joe Bite 'em"?

6:30 AM - 10 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Drilling, Girls Gone Wild, and my very very last post on I Kissed a Girl

I was sitting in the dentist chair (once again) trying to hear the music over the sound of the drill. Music helps me, even more than the Ativan they advanced me, to relax. When all of a sudden, I heard the first few notes of I Kissed a Girl! The Katy Perry version.

Did I do something wrong in another life? I was reminded of Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man, with Laurence Olivier as the Nazi Dentist. I could not ask them to change the channel as I had a mouth fool of power tools. I did raise and wave my hand. The doctor thought I needed more Novocain.

It reminded me of the time I met David Blaine, and he was trying to figure out his next stunt. He was going to attempt to stay up for 8 days straight, but his doctor friends said that could cause permanent brain damage. I suggested watching a constant loop of the new movie Mama Mia for that week. He was scared and appalled.

Well, I survived the surgery and the song. But I did follow with an extra strength Vicodin.

I must say, in reality, the song doesn't really bug me. In fact, it's been sort of fun, and gotten folks to go to mine ("I Kissed a Girl Classic"). Good for Katy Perry and her team of writers. I swear this is my last post about it.

However, last week, Wendy and Lisa (of Prince and Heroes fame) worked with me on a third version! We did it just for a goof. I think it's pretty rocking ...although a part of it reminds me of Eye of the Tiger. And that might not be good. I do love those girls. They are nice, as well as talented freaks of nature. I should post it soon. Maybe one of you will do a video for it.

One last I Kissed a Girl comment:

Someone sent this quote to me. It was on a thread on this blog, "I love music":

"... but the more I think about the difference between Perry and Sobule, the more I feel like the two songs encapsulate the difference between '90s and '00s culture. Sobule kisses a girl because exploring your sexuality is a very cool, PC thing to do; Perry kisses a girl so she can plaster the photos on Facebook."

On that note, I will post this picture. Dave Carpenter, my amazing bass player, was with his son on the log ride at Knott's Berry Farm. They had no clue what the girls behind them were doing. Another dumbed-down, Girls Gone Wild moment. But it does make me laugh... a lot.

2:10 AM - 21 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

If you are in LA....
Category: Music

Come to Largo tomorrow night at 9:00.

Did anyone see the article in the New York Times Sunday Magazine about the Internet Trolls? For some reason, I can't hyperlink on myspace with my mac, so here it is: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/magazine/03trolls-t.html?pagewanted=1

I was fascinated, slightly horrified, and annoyed. Your thoughts?

4:18 AM - 7 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

from the article in Performing Songwriter

It's long, so if you don't want to read it, I so understand. My new one for them, which is due tomorrow, is an ADD rambling on my thoughts after seeing the revival of "Hair" last week. It, by the way, was so joyful. It made me want to, I don't know, drop acid and have free sex -but not now. I have to many things to do.

Here's last month's article:


It was the first day of the tour. I saw her sitting outside by the bus and thought I should introduce myself. I thanked her for having me open the shows (like it was her choice) and then proceeded to tell her how much a particular song of hers meant to me. She replied in a rather unenthused manner, "Yes, I have heard your music."

"Yes, I have heard your music." How should one take that? What does that mean? Anyway, I could tell right away that we probably weren't going to be BFFs, but I kept trying. One time I complimented her on the dress she was about to perform in. She said, "Yes, I am trying to get in touch with my more feminine side. I used to dress sort of butch and had a haircut, well … like yours." At that time I had really short hair, but thought it was cute and pixieish—at least until that night.

In spite of all that, I love being the opening act. You only have to play 45 minutes (or less); you can get back to the bus or hotel early and watch lots of pay-per-view; the weight of bringing people into the show isn't on you (i.e., if there was surprisingly low attendance, it wasn't the fault of the girl with the short butch haircut); and you meet a new fan base—I have loyal fans to this day who have discovered me by going to see Lloyd Cole, Billy Bragg or Warren Zevon.

For the most part the main act has been very generous and kind to me. A wise man once said (or I just made it up), "You can tell a person by how he or she treats opening acts and waitresses." I have been both many a time.
People warned me about Warren, and I heard horror stories of how abusive he could be. So I thought, "I will stay completely out of his way, mind my own business and be as silent as a mouse." Plus, being a huge fan of his lyric writing, I was naturally intimidated.

The first few dates went well. His fans seemed compatible; basically, they listened. I think I said two words to him like, "Hi" and "Sorry"(I tripped over his luggage). This giving-him-space approach seemed to work until he came into my dressing room.

"What's the matter? Do I have leprosy or something?"

After that, we did become BFFs. We ate together, did sound checks together and sang together. He came out for a spirited duet of "I Kissed a Girl," which really made no sense but was way fun. He asked me to join him on his next tour, where it was just him, his road manager and me on this big-ass bus. I would watch Law & Order in the front lounge, and he would watch the dirty channels in the back. One time I noticed a small group of people gathered by the back of the bus before a show. Warren had some porn movie on and didn't realize the blinds weren't drawn. So I played vice squad, ran in the bus and shut the whole operation down … much to the disappointment of the peanut gallery.

The point is that the one you thought would be the biggest asshole of them all turned out to be a sweet pea. A really surly sweet pea, mind you.
I heard similar horror stories about Joe Jackson, Paul Weller and Don Henley. They all turned out to be swell fellows who gave me, their opener, a sufficient amount of respect and, more importantly, made sure I got my allotted sound-check time. (Unlike a certain singer-songwriter touring on his first hit, who was such a little diva. He spent two hours every sound check going over his whole set and didn't allow me my lousy 15 minutes. No wonder the band sounded tired and bored come show time.)

Cyndi Lauper not only gave me plenty of sound-check time, but also let me share her dressing room, borrow her makeup and drink her wine (somehow she always got the $70 Barolo on her rider, while I got "the freshest wine"). She even shared her hotel room with me one night when I didn't have a reservation. (Usually, while Cyndi and her band stayed at the Ritz or Four Seasons, I would find the local whore motel or, when times were flush, the Red Roof Inn.)

And then there was X, that seminal L.A. punk band. They invited me to ride on their bus. I thought this could be exciting, as I had heard stories of decadent drug- and booze-filled nights—except I was 20 years too late. After the gig, we played cards and the game "who would you rather sleep with or die." Not very rock 'n' roll, but a good time, nevertheless.

But this is boring—let's get back to the negative. Let's talk about the worst person I ever opened for. The boy diva and the first performer I mentioned might not have been bundles of joy, but they certainly weren't mean … or mean on purpose. Not even Shelly Zissman, the girl who made my seventh-grade experience miserable, was this mean.

I was the third act on the bill, and I guess she didn't know there was a third act—which meant she had to cut 10 minutes from her performance. So from the very beginning she was unhappy with my mere presence. I tried really hard to be nice, but anytime I acknowledged her she would give me a look like I was some stinky, crazy homeless man. And it wasn't just me being paranoid. Everyone on the tour, including her tour manager, apologized and were perplexed by the extent of her nastiness.

I tried not to let it get to me. I was more amused and fascinated by it—until she made a rude comment about me on stage. That is so uncool! You don't do that! I would love to reveal to all of you who she was but that would be uncool! You don't do that. (Although, if I see any of you at a bar and you buy me a couple of rounds, I might open up.)

I like to think of myself as a team player and one who is not competitive in the icky way. But I have to say, something evil kicked in. My sole purpose in life was to kick her ass, by doing the best show possible, and to beat her in … merch. That's right, I was going to sell more T-shirts no matter how much of a discount I had to give. Before my last song, I told the crowd I would sign CDs after the show. I might have added something about "my six kids on food stamps."

And guess what? I won! By a lot! I was like Carrie at the prom, although I'm not sure the woman in question knew or even cared about my "revenge." (Revenge might be a moot point when the other party doesn't participate.)
To celebrate my victory and merchandise fortune I spent the last two nights of the tour at a Westin. I even spent $20 on a Diet Coke, Pringles and a miniature bottle of Jack in the mini bar.

This fall, I hope to release my new record and go on tour. I will probably do a combination of shows, some opening and some closing. If any of you somehow find yourself as my opening act, I promise to be nice and give you the adequate amount of time for sound check. If not, call me on it right then and there. At least before you write anything about it.

Get the latest Issue of Performing Songwriter, ISSUE No. 111

4:46 PM - 12 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

album title

I am trying to come up with a good name for my record. There is the usual theme of failure with "light at the end of the tunnel" . But the setting for some of the stories is...Los Angeles - as opposed to Brooklyn. I thought of calling it...California. Boring? Or the California Years (like my Folk Years 2003-2003).

Any better ideas?

I was thinking the cover could look like one of those old travel posters from the 60s of the Golden State -all yellow and orange with an illustration of a girl with sunglasses or a palm tree. Or...a collage of photos and images. I like the idea of the Hollywood sign falling down -like in the movie Earthquake.

Better ideas?

8:35 PM - 28 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

The Injustice of Digital Distribution

I want to talk to you about an injustice. I know there are probably bigger problems facing or nation: gas prices, the mortgage crisis, the war, and... Andy Dick's arrest (for urinating in public and pulling down a girl's tank top), but there is one thing that has been bugging me big time, and I suspect some of you too.

I pay for music. I use iTunes...a lot. It's just too easy, and you can do it from the iPhone. But you would think for $0.99 that you could get information on, not only who the composer of the particular song is, but also on the musicians, producer, and yes, being the geek I am, the engineer. Oh... and want the lyrics. I love to read them as I hear a song for the first time.

Am I the only one that misses looking in the booklet of a CD to find out who the drummer is? When I was preparing for my up and coming next record, the name Jim Keltner came up as a potential drummer. I jumped at the chance, as he played on some of my favorite records growing up (like those post-Beatles solo albums). I knew his name from studying the inside of album covers.

Maybe I'm old. Maybe, in an era of manufactured pop, no one cares who the programmer or session musicians are. But dang, I knew who played on the Monkee's records (The Wreaking Crew). And, I would like to know, for instance, who Mark Ronson (Amy Winehouse's producer) hires to play on his records. Who is on the latest Beck record? And, on a personal note: who did Katy Perry write her "I Kissed a Girl" with?

Am I alone in this?

Trying to succeed as a musician or a songwriter -- meaning being able to pay rent -- is hard enough. Let's at least give credit where credit is due.

Who do I talk to?

5:34 PM - 32 Comments - 45 Kudos - Add Comment

My Week So Far

I went to the dentist yesterday to replace 3 old fillings. I was not too happy about it, but if you have to go, you might as well go to the "Beverly Hills dentist," as I call her. First, you get to put on these futuristic video sunglasses that are connected to an iPod. I watched 5 Jon Stewart's in a row, turning the volume up to 10, so it would drown out the drill. Then a woman comes in and asks you if you want your feet massaged ...the entire time!

It did make the session go faster and not as anxiety ridden. Although I am not sure it was quite as good as my old hometown Denver dentist, Dr. Greene, who gave me nitrous oxide and painkillers. The only entertainment he had was a Peter Max poster on the ceiling, but somehow it worked.

I am a huge Mad Men fan. And I found out that the creator is also an old fan of my music. So, yesterday I was invited to see the set and some shooting. I was hoping to meet the guy who plays Don Draper and the sexy secretary, but they were not in the scene. However, I did get to have lunch with Matt (who is so nice as well as genius) and the writers. I was telling them that "we" should write Mad Men: The Musical. No one seemed excited. But, hey, can't you see it?

This Kissed a Girl biz is getting to be a bit of an irritant. People are always getting my song confused with the new one, which, by the way, has become a huge hit. If this were the East Coast / West Coast Hip-Hop rivalry of the 1980s, I might have pondered popping a cap in Katy Perry. I joke about it, but maybe I will do a third version. It could either be really boring we kissed, did more, got gay married in California, went to the sperm bank after we found out our best male friend had mental illness in his family, had kids, found out how tiring it was, had no time for kissing anymore, etc. Or, I could make it really... filthy. Any ideas?

Oh, by the way, Howard Stern said on his radio show that he liked mine better. Now that's an endorsement.

And talking about the gay thing, here is my favorite news story from last week:

The American Family Association's OneNewsNow site has some sort of auto-correct that replaces the word "gay" with "homosexual." I guess this far-right Christian site thinks that there is nothing gay about the lifestyle and they want to take back the word. The problem came when they reported on Tyson Gay winning the 100-meter race at the Olympic trials:

Tyson Homosexual easily won his semifinal for the 100 meters at the US Olympic track and field trials...

7:06 PM - 30 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

expired passport and Yanni

Hey Guys, you can now comment on the blog section on my jillsobule.com. Go there and let's talk: http://jillsobule.com/jillsjournal.asp

But it's here too:


I went way early to the airport -- I always am early. I am overly paranoid about being stuck in a 40-car pileup while missing my plane. I do forget that I am usually on JetBlue and they are at least two hours late these days. Also, I triple check that I don't forget anything. So, I got to an empty counter and showed the Air Canada woman my passport and... "Miss, your passport has expired."

What?!

"But I have a show in Toronto this afternoon, and it's... it's really important."

This wasn't like begging someone to let you slide on the extra 5 pounds of luggage, so you don't have to pay the $60 fee. I have done that many a time. No, there was nothing she could do. She was actually nice and suggested I could fly to Buffalo and drive to Toronto -- you can just use your driver's license that way.

I called the woman at the conference where I was scheduled to play and told her my dilemma -- that my passport had just expired the day before. I... lied. It expired in September. How did I know? They should call you or something, like gyms do when your 2-week trial period is up. Anyway, I was not about to cancel.

So, I took a cab from Buffalo to Toronto. The cab driver was sweet but wanted to talk about his musician brother from Albania, who happens to play violin for Yanni. The driver handed me a portable DVD player and showed me Yanni -- Live in Las Vegas!

Wow. I can't even describe it. I was mesmerized. A still longhaired and Magnum-moustached Yanni, surrounded by synths, directed, what looked like, a 70-piece band. It was a blend of River Dance, Middle Eastern Music, and bad New Age, with a Pink Floyd Laser light show. Surprisingly, it took the edge off my journey, but I still wasn't sure I would make the show on time.

I arrived at the venue just 40 minutes before I was scheduled to appear. I was calm as could be -- thanks to my cab driver, herbal Xanax, and Yanni.

By the way, my friend was house hunting in LA, and almost bought the house where Yanni and Linda Evans (Dynasty) lived. I just thought I would tell you.

I was so glad that I got to Toronto just in time to see Jill Tatar speak. She was the astronomer that the movie Contact was sort of based on. She heads the SETI Institute -- Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence. Jill invited me to see the facilities. Maybe, on that day, we will be lucky.

8:28 AM - 4 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

Expired Passports ...and Yanni

Hey guys, you can now leave comments on my blog at Jillsobule.com! Let's talk.

I went way early to the airport -- I always am early. I am overly paranoid about being stuck in a 40-car pileup while missing my plane. I do forget that I am usually on JetBlue and they are at least two hours late these days. Also, I triple check that I don't forget anything. So, I got to an empty counter and showed the Air Canada woman my passport and... "Miss, your passport has expired."

What?!

"But I have a show in Toronto this afternoon, and it's... it's really important."

This wasn't like begging someone to let you slide on the extra 5 pounds of luggage, so you don't have to pay the $60 fee. I have done that many a time. No, there was nothing she could do. She was actually nice and suggested I could fly to Buffalo and drive to Toronto -- you can just use your driver's license that way.

I called the woman at the conference where I was scheduled to play and told her my dilemma -- that my passport had just expired the day before. I... lied. It expired in September. How did I know? They should call you or something, like gyms do when your 2-week trial period is up. Anyway, I was not about to cancel.

So, I took a cab from Buffalo to Toronto. The cab driver was sweet but wanted to talk about his musician brother from Albania, who happens to play violin for Yanni. The driver handed me a portable DVD player and showed me Yanni -- Live in Las Vegas!

Wow. I can't even describe it. I was mesmerized. A still longhaired and Magnum-moustached Yanni, surrounded by synths, directed, what looked like, a 70-piece band. It was a blend of River Dance, Middle Eastern Music, and bad New Age, with a Pink Floyd Laser light show. Surprisingly, it took the edge off my journey, but I still wasn't sure I would make the show on time.

I arrived at the venue just 40 minutes before I was scheduled to appear. I was calm as could be -- thanks to my cab driver, herbal Xanax, and Yanni.

By the way, my friend was house hunting in LA, and almost bought the house where Yanni and Linda Evans (Dynasty) lived. I just thought I would tell you.

I was so glad that I got to Toronto just in time to see Jill Tatar speak. She was the astronomer that the movie Contact was sort of based on. She heads the SETI Institute -- Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence. Jill invited me to see the facilities. Maybe, on that day, we will be lucky.

3:00 AM - 3 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment