Last night I put $5 in the jukebox at the bar, and that got me 15 songs.
15 songs at an average playing time of 3-4 minutes made me the master of the bar for nearly an hour.
These choices aren't just about personal taste. These choices are about setting the kind of mood for an entire evening of merriment for possibly hundreds of people.
Lots of people left during that Phish song some guy begged me to include. I'm sure this had nothing to do with the time being after midnight.
Everyone sat back and smiled at their neighbors for "No Woman No Cry."
People got their grooves on for James Brown.
They sang along with "Blister In The Sun."
And I like to think I helped a few poor souls seal the deal when Van Morrison sang "Into the Mystic." (The Suz says never underestimate the power of Van Morrison as a pickup vehicle-- I wouldn't know in this particular context as I was fending off a perfectly nice boy who made the mistake of showing up and aggressively resembling Ex-NotBoyfriend #3).
Money in the jukebox is power. You can send the crowds screaming to another bar. You can make them buy another round. You might even help get them laid.
For those people-- and you know who you are-- you're welcome.

Tomorrow it begins.
Tomorrow they'll all be out ranging free in the neighborhood. Up and down the halls of my building.
Short people playing make believe.
They've spent the last three months planning their costumes. They've been thinking about this night since Nov. 1 last year.
The parties. The dress-up. The bobbing for apples. It all seems so innocent.
But I've seen the gleam in their eyes for weeks now.
And they'll be out there in gangs roaming the streets. They'll be looking to score some M&Ms. There will be drive by toilet paperings and pumpkin smashings for the kid who gets the last tiny Snickers.
And then the worst will emerge. One of them will produce Pez paraphernalia.
There will be no stopping them once they get their hands on the Pixy Stix and LifeSavers. Blood will be shed over a Three Musketeers.
Oh the humanity!
And we-- the tall people-- will be powerless to stop it.
The sucrose will win.
It always does.
Lock your doors. Watch the Twin Peaks marathon on Bravo. It will be far less scary than what's happening outside your door.