And in this corner, weighing in at 197 pounds (down from 216) and hailing from the mystical town of Gordonville is ...

Well, you know who it is. It’s me. G2.

And I’m ready to rumble.

And not with political pundits wielding shovels to readily dump dirt on Hillary Clinton’s political grave. No, not with NHL officials who seem to have a mandate from the Great White North to keep the Flyers from ever hoisting the Stanley Cup again.

Not even with my many dear archrival, archconservative friends.

We have plenty of time until November to keep those eyes without peripheral vision swollen shut with jabs and left hooks.

I have a more insidious and immediate opponent. It’s an opponent who drew first blood, but who’ll be handing me the keys to his MINI Cooper and trying to get me to stop the pummeling by offering up his daddy’s trust-fund money while crawling on the ground looking for the nose-piercing and/or horn-rimmed glasses I knocked loose with one slap.

We’ll call him something real annoying — like Seth. I never met a Seth who wasn’t a creep, so Seth becomes the personification of a site on the very same Internet that is on a mission to render my chosen profession severely altered or flat-out obsolete.

And he is an example of why newspapers will never die, as long we remain responsible.

The name of the site in question is Blender.com, which falsely bills itself as “the ultimate guide to music and more.”

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News Editor Ann Cornell brought it to consciousness and, pardon the pun, it has rocked my world — negatively.

This site is more evil than the sites of any hate group — ranging from the Klan to the Nation of Islam — that I have bookmarked for occasional shrugs and giggles.

Blender.com — Seth’s site — is geared toward those latte-drinking, Obama-voting twentysomethings who come equipped with wireless laptops attached to their arms and ready-to-brandish two-weeks-notice letters in their back pockets for the first time they are mildly admonished in the workplace.

Seth and friends seek to set the record straight on music with all kinds of lists — best-of-this, worst-of-that, etc. — with the audacity of a two-seconds-on-the-job, junior senator deciding to run for president because, like Greg Brady of yore, he fits the “Johnny Bravo” suit.

Blender.com enters dangerous terrain by putting prior — and musically proud — generations into some sort of highbrow, know-it-all context.

If Seth and Co. want to dissect the music of the ADD-riddled generation it targets, that’s fine. It’s a free country, allegedly.

But don’t drag down those musicians who did the same for me and mine.

I know I should just take a chill pill and let it slide, but this hits too close to home.

We can’t shrug it off and let “them” take over without a fight, can we? The first step in succumbing to weasels like Seth is to lose passion. Once I do that, I’ll stop training for all future bouts. Until that time comes, keep on playing that “Rocky” theme as I run — figuratively — up the art museum steps.

If Blender.com — or any other entity — is going to make out lists for posterity and put them on the Internet, where they will be stored in search engines, they better work less on being snide and more on getting it right.

Seth has resorted to what has become an innate skill amongst his peer group — cut-and-paste. In this case, the generic gratuities paid to my generation seemingly come from existing lists from the likes of Rolling Stone magazine.

Blender.com has the gall to list the top 50 geniuses of pop music, which predictably includes Kurt Cobain at No. 9. Let’s lay this on the line right now, the only brilliant act by the leader of the grunge band Nirvana was to know that offing himself young assured that he — and the band — had a place carved in history before being eclipsed by the more talented Pearl Jam.

Because it’s too painful, I’m not even going to get into the fact that Bruce Springsteen isn’t on a list that does include nonmusician Andy Warhol. And the fact that Bob Dylan is deservedly No. 1 doesn’t redeem this hodgepodge of what amounts to an incomplete homework assignment of a bored middle-schooler.

Blender.com also includes overbearing Queen lead singer Freddie Mercury at No. 39. Also dead, making him somehow mythical in Seth’s now-blackened eyes, Mercury’s alleged genius is substantiated by Blender.com because he was purportedly referenced in Cobain’s suicide note (maybe he listened to “Bohemian Rhapsody” three straight times before becoming suicidal).

This should be enough to strip all credibility, but I’m not done. Sigh. The list of musical geniuses includes Little Richard.

Little Richard? Little Richard! Note: I was jumping up and down as I typed that.

Why is it that every white kid under 30 thinks that every black guy who had a few hit songs in the early days of rock is automatically a genius? Some, like Chuck Berry, did set the template for future artists — white and black — and are true pioneers of the craft. So are some white guys — Buddy Holly (not on the list, curiously) — but Seth tries so hard to be PC that he ends up eating my knuckle sandwich and crying for mercy.

But this all started with another list, which Ann dutifully brought to my attention. A twentysomething herself, she was raised with respect for her elders and was equally appalled that Simon and Garfunkel’s brilliant “The Sound of Silence” was on Blender.com’s list of the 50 worst songs of all time. Note: The self-proclaimed “ultimate guide to music and more” incorrectly called the song “The Sounds of Silence.” The album was “sounds” (plural) but the song was “sound” (singular).

This is not to say that there aren’t some horrid songs on their list, but starting with Celine Dion’s atrocious “My Heart Will Go On” at No. 50 automatically presumes that Seth and Co. view anything on the 49-to-1 countdown — including likeable, harmless ditties such as R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People” — as worse.

At No. 34, is Dan Fogelberg’s “Longer.” For a site that seems to have a fetish for dead people, they treat Fogelberg — who dared to die late in 2007 of prostate cancer instead of something more romantic, like an overdose or high-speed crash — with disdain.

After ripping “Longer,” which I admit is corny, Seth suggests — in the present tense — that Fogelberg needs a stage name.

The man is dead, Seth. And he didn’t need a stage name — like DJ Dazzy Dan — when he was alive. He was who he was and wrote what he felt. When it comes to evaluating what his music meant to us, you’re out of your element.

And on the canvas. Knocked-out cold. With a ref standing over you, counting — 8, 9, 10.

And the winner, and still champion of all worthy causes ...

Well, you know who it is. It’s me. G2.

And I’m always ready to rumble.

Contact Gordon glantz at

glantz@timesherald.com or 610-272-2501, ext. 212.