Ye Gods, the hair! The HAIR!

Thanks to the inestimable Mr. Scalzi and his latest Reader Request Week post, I now have Howard Jones's "No One Is To Blame" running on an infinte loop in my head. I like the song - absolutely loved it when I was 11, to be sure, and I think it's held up reasonably well to the years - but there's only so much of the inoffensive Brit's dulcet tones I can take before yea, verily, I doth descend into madness.

So: what's the solution?

(And don't say "More Cowbell!" Because I'm pretty sure that joke jumped the shark about four years ago, now.)

Here's the solution: get the song out of my head and into yours! So, have some, friends, and revel in the glory of Howard Jones in his prime.

Wow. That hair, man. That's just something else. Luckily, that style abortion ended with Reagan, et. al. 

Oh, wait. 

(Photo cribbed from Amanda Marcotte's flickr stream; taken on day one of this year's SXSW festival in Austin, I believe.)