I survived my first iPod death this weekend. It flatly refused to accept any Christopher Cross, and promptly crapped itself out. My fixin' skills don't apply to iPods (or, really, anything other than sandwiches, and even then only the crackers and Easy-Cheese kind), so yesterday we headed to the Apple store. I had to log in and wait an hour, but once they could see me they had me out in fifteen minutes. Dude just plugged it in to a laptop, saw it was fucked, and gave me a brand new one on the spot. Now I can listen to Arthur's theme all damned day, if I want. Thanks, Mr. Apple Store Genius, may your light shine for decades to come.