What is the single most useless yet hypnotic activity conceivable? If you said, "filling out a ballot for Pitchfork's best albums of 1996-2011 poll," you win a prize. Why is list-making such a compulsive, addictive activity? I swear, you go in thinking it'll kill 20 minutes and two hours later for no reason whatsoever you're sweating blood over whether or nor the Avalanches is better than Discovery. Oh well.
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