I learned about Amy Winehouse from Stephen King.

Oh, have I not mentioned that Stephen and I are BFFs? That’s because we aren’t (though my mom did have some English classes with him in college). Haven’t read a one of his books. But he does write an occasional pop culture column for Entertainment Weekly — a magazine I’ve been reading for over a decade, and can’t seem to quit — and soon after “Rehab” came out he wrote a piece extolling the virtues of one Ms. A. Winehouse.

So, I checked her out. And lo and behold, I found Uncle Stevie (as he styles himself) hadn’t steered me wrong. Loved the groove, loved the sass, and as long as I didn’t have to look at or hear about the love life of AW, I enjoyed the song. I also enjoyed “You Know I’m No Good,” especially when it was used in a now unfindable Mad Men promo.

AND … that’s about where my knowledge of and interest in Amy Winehouse begins and ends. I do, and expect ever to, associate her with Stephen King when I hear her music, which is a little strange. Or not — she looks like she’d fit right into a tale of gothic violence and horror.

WHICH, come to think of it, is what I almost got myself into, upon hearing “Rehab” this morning. I can’t help but do a little car-dancing to that song … which is rather dangerous when the roads are covered in snowy muck and the winds are so strong your car is swaying all over the place. DANGEROUS, kids. When the weather’s bad, no dancing and driving.

I wonder if there’s a rehab for that.

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