Pat gets a no-prize that should've been dead years ago for bringing us news of another high-concept boomer self-love-fest, yet another Bob Dylan biopic project, this time with a twist:

Cate Blanchett will play Bob Dylan in his "androgenous phase" in a new biopic of the great poet-songwriter's life, it was announced, as Dylan turned 65.

As far as I'm concerned, decades of swilling various kinds of booze down his throat long ago kept Bob Dylan from any sort of resemblance to a singer. Yet through his admittedly talented song writing and some sort of bizzarre synergy between various media elites who came of age during his heyday, we're made to feel we should still care about this old weirdo.

He's a musician. He wrote some really good songs. He was a mediocre singer at the best of times, and at his worst a sad joke. Like many musicians I've personally encountered, he seems to have a special-intensity weirdness that's just coherent enough to keep him out of the hospital. He's also rich as Roosevelt.

But that's it. Not a God, not a scion of Western civilization, not even someone to pay big bucks to go see. He can't sing anymore!

Bah. As if it'll make any difference. Go on and see the movie and play his records and put his picture on the wall. It's you're money, do what you want with it.

Excuse me, there's some kids on my lawn I need to go throw rocks at.