I had planned to be a real writer and actually REVIEW the Rolling Stones concert. If my plan had worked, you would be reading a celebration of my wry observations, self-elevating negativity and clever put-downs – the lifeblood of CRITICISM. However, just like my attempts at lovemaking, I failed. First of all, seating was an issue. I sat in the anus of the arena about 37 feet from heaven. It was impossible to REVIEW anything from that vantage point, except your life. At 7:30 p.m., loud music issued from the speakers and a rumor metastasized that there was a band...