There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of books written about rock music. Most of them are horrible. Some are not about the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen. I went through my closet and found some music books I still keep and then I ordered some new ones so it would look like I haven't completely given up on life.

Here are five books about the rock 'n' roll that will not waste your time. Well, it'll waste it, but it will waste it better than if you spent that time surfing the internet looking for friends.

Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung by Lester Bangs: Lester Bangs is considered the greatest rock critic who ever lived, which is a bit like being in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the guy who's eaten the most pickles or ridden on a see-saw the longest. It's not much, but he'll take it. Aside from inspiring others to complain about all his imitators, which considering the bland useless capsule reviews that actually appear in magazines these days would be an

Before John Lennon became New York City's Best Damn Househusband, he was once a member of the popular British singing group, the Beatles. As the leader of the band, he was in charge of all the major functions from hiring and firing the help to making sure the other members didn't step out of line and begin sleeping with each other's girlfriends. He also wrote many of the songs, played and sang on the records, and had his picture taken a lot. From the group's first single, "Love Me Do," in 1962 through their final released album, 1970's Let It Be (Abbey Road was actually recorded last but let's not get too picky here), John Lennon was a lightning rod for controversy and while posing naked with his soon to be second wife Yoko Ono isn't the way I wish to remember him, it seemed to fit him just fine.

My other lists remembering the man celebrate his best and worst songs. (I like to think of this as the "multi-faceted" look.) Here, I'd like to remember a few--five, in fact, moments...

"Would

I feel the heat from the Department of Transit wondering when my promotion of 'Transit in America' would appear. If I ever expect to get my driver's license back I'm going to have to play the game and do a little shilling on behalf of our great government. So be patient with me and write a letter stating what a fine American I am and that 15 Rob Roys while behind the wheel of Dodge Colt is not a reason to keep a man down.

"Subway Song"--The Cure: I don't think good things happen in this song. But then this is the British railway system we're talking about and surely America is a much safer place. If only because we fluoridate our water. Face it, you go underground you're just asking for trouble. Why do you think your parents let you live in their basement? They're hoping something will happen to you.

"Big Yellow Taxi"--Joni Mitchell: I have yet to figure out how this song promotes taxi service. It seems to me that it promotes parking lots. Pave paradise, put up a parking lot and

November is Adoption Awareness Month. And with that we salute musicians (and one kid that's always in the news) who have made their adoptive parents proud. As someone who routinely disappointed his real parents, I stand in awe. In a world where "You're not the boss of me" is standard rhetoric, imagine trying to raise these little scamps who are not your own devil spawn, but a mystery of nature and nurture. If they turn out successful, you can take credit. If they turn out to be ax-murderers, you blame the system.

Liz Phair: This is the way to do it. You get adopted by people who can raise your social standing and lead more interesting lives than you would've had otherwise. Her dad was a doctor at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and her mom was an art professor. You mean I get to hang around smart people all day instead of a bunch of kids who eat their own boogers? Awesome.

Faith Hill: Even weirder here is the idea that she married Tim McGraw who was also adopted. It's like these people