"I'm cold! I'm bored! When can I go outside again?" moaned Baby Bear.

"Darling, you can trot around outside after the thaw. If you're cold go to your room and find that gorgeous woolly pully that Grammy Bear bought you for Christmas. Then come back out and we'll listen to some soothing music-- that should keep nasty bone-freezing Mr. Winter out," replied Mommy Bear.

When Baby Bear returned to the Bear Family couch, she was sporting her favorite pullover, the one with rainbow-colored dancing humans knitted into it. "So what are we going to listen to, Mommy Bear? Can we not listen to Beary Manilow again, please?!" pleaded Baby Bear.

"Don't you mock Mommy's taste! Everyone is entitled to express themselves in their own special, unique way. The sooner you learn that, my girl, the sooner I'll allow you out into the boskier sections of the Great Forest." With her heart filled with expectation, Baby Bear revised her prejudices and gently asked what disc Mommy Bear had chosen for this evening's recital.

"It's the debut disc by Appliance, a British band; it's called Manual and I think you'll appreciate it."

Forty minutes later, Mommy Bear turned to Baby Bear and saw her daughter's face stricken with consternation.

"Did you mean to patronize me, Mommy? Why did you think I would like that infantile drool? Did you think that because the band uses sparse instrumentation, old Stranglers' riffs and sounds like Stereolab live on 'Sesame Street,' that I would be intellectually nourished? I mean, if I want formulaic artificiality and mechanized emptiness, you know I turn to Trans Am. Why would I bother with copyists? Appliance are as manufactured and concept-driven as their moniker. It sounds like their sole motive is to make music that would be made by the steam-iron division of Hoover, while courting hoary critics with blatant Plone and Broadcast references. I'm disappointed in you Mommy Bear. The only thing manual about this record is the handjobs the band probably gave themselves in self-congratulation!"

"Baby Bear! Wash your mouth out! When your father gets home, you can explain where you acquired such a potty mouth!" screeched Mommy Bear.

"From Beary Manilow, you dolt!" stated Baby Bear as she slammed the door of her former home and began her journey into the wilds of the great forest. She was pleased about one thing, however; she'd kept her Grammy's pullover on. Shit, it was cold out there.

-Paul Cooper