At first I thought the biggest problem [in being stranded on a desert island with just one record] would be one of acoustics, but then I thought again. No friends. No enemies. No Christmas shoppers, but no Christmas presents, either. No way to start a stamp collection. No date at the movies. Hold the phone—no movies at all! Or books! Or talk shows! Or magazines (except for one yellowing copy of People, with Gregg and Cher and Baby Elijah on the cover)! Or records! No records!

Hah. One record, and—this being something of a trumped-up dilemma—all the time in the world to choose it. The final selection process didn't take me anywhere near that long: Something Else by the Kinks, and there's no second choice. If I couldn't pack that, I'd have to make other travel plans. (p. 100)

[There] are certain things about this situation...