Blind faith

I'm sitting here listening to some of the best of Ray Charles courtesy of WABE-FM and "your program host of Jazz Classics", H. Johnson.

I'm fixating on the fact that this national treasure couldn't see but had unparalleled powers of description.

My reverence for Ray Charles puts me at odds with a puriant taste of mine.  Ludacris songs are a guilty pleasure that I fear I'll pass on to the II.

Every day, he pleads to watch  Anderson Varejao's hoop highlight clips on Youtube. And his favorite glimpse at the Cavs' wild center, unfortunately, happens to be the one accompanied  by the profanity-laced Luda lyrics to "Too Fast, Too Furious". 

I keep having to make sure that the volume's down low enough that mommy doesn't hear. Oh, the grief I'd catch.

One great  power of description is gone, and another is going to waste. That's the way I see it, at least.