April showers have brought May flowers.

If you think this is going to be a cynical, sour-grapes diatribe about the gulf between the haves and have-nots, think again. The Contemporary is throwing down a gauntlet to the general population.

I thought the answering machine phenomenon was bad enough, but now I’ve decided that there is nothing more cringe-inducing than hearing your own prepubescent voice belt out the lyrics to “Eurotrash Girl.”

Keep records of when and where you perform, sell CDs, and get publicity so you can prove your priority of use of the name in various territories.