Metallique Bertrand: It's always nice to stumble upon spontaneous music being made for the sheer pleasure of it, whether it happens at a metro stop or a continent away. And no, I'm not talking about whatever the latest media-conscious Jenny "let's-get-my-face-in-the-Post-again!" Toomey project happens to be. I happened upon these guys (photo) quite by accident as I was doing the tourist thing, strolling across Place Trocadero in Paris. They were discordantly banging out their favorite Stones and Hendrix tunes ("Sympathy for the Devil," "Little Wing") as a small, multinational gaggle of teenagers looked on. Somewhat out of tune, hoarse, and singing the English lyrics in a thick French accent, they were, nonetheless, perfect. (Hugh Jass)

Five Let us examine the number five, shall we? It lies precisely halfway between those crucial numbers, one and ten. It thus carries the strong implications of half. It is patently inoffensive, and easy to deal with; when multiplying, one always knows the answer can only end in five or zero. It is a moderate, median, easy to deal with number; in short, it is the numerical equivalent of the color beige.	Alone in a Meadow on a Spring Day If you were a breeze I would fan myself with a smile. (Little Yellow Bus) From [stoned] Darkcell [stoned] I was riding the subway like a long tube of toothpaste surfing the beach. The door opened, the cattle walked through mooing. Up they went to more tubes (they ignorantly called them "buses") to be delivered to their homes. Special delivery. (Cyd)