While I am discussing the unaccountable success of insipid pop maestros, let me say that I don't get Billy Joel either. With the witty wordplay in his early songs like "Piano Man," he started out as a latter-day pseudo Bob Dylan. But with a barf bag full of bland songs such as "Uptown Girl" and arguably the lamest rock 'n' roll song of all time, "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me," he ended up a latter-day, well, pseudo Four Seasons. Fortunately, Broadway's not making a musical about that.

Excuse me another second. What's 'at? They did? You sure? O-kaay. Fact-check department again. Seems they made a musical of Billy Joel songs too. It's called Movin' Out. How 'bout, Movin' Off, as in, Movin' Off Broadway, and I don't mean Off-Broadway?

I don't get it.

Thinking about all this turns my thoughts to tickets, and that, in turn, to something I really don't get: convenience charges. What's so convenient about paying an additional $4.50 on each ticket - each, as if you would pick them up individually - and keeping them at Will Call, so you can wait in a line the length of a traffic backup on I-95 on an August Friday? That's convenient?

I don't get it.

My reverie is interrupted by the mail c­arrier, who, of course, brings me a fresh pile of bills. Here's the phone bill. And here is something else I don't get: "This Page Deliberately Left Blank."

It says that on my bill. Huh? Why would they do that? Not only is it confounding, it's false: Having this text on it, the page is no longer blank. It should say, "This Page Deliberately Has a Meaningless Sentence on It."