February 27, 2003 | 11:39 AM

I cried when I read that Mr. Rogers died this morning. He seemed like such a sweet gentle man, and he is part of many fond childhood memories. Mr. Rogers� Neighborhood and Sesame Street were the only two TV shows I watched as a little kid, and I think are still probably the only two intelligent and appropriate television shows for small children. It�s a sad sad day.

The Dresden Dolls are playing tomorrow night at The Middle East (downstairs). Doors open at 9 and The Dolls are on at 10. Tickets are $10.00 at the door.

The Dresden Dolls are (besides The Shelly Winters project) without a doubt, the best band in Boston right now. They are so innovative, so interesting, and combine elements of everything I love best in music�Weimar era Cabaret, post punk/goth, and opera. Their music is sly and intelligent, sexy and so cerebral. And they are both incredibly HOTT to boot. The Dolls are gonna be big, big starz and if you don�t see �em while they�re still on the rise, you�ll kick yourself later.

Here's a picture of them. Aren't they sexy?

Mr. Wonderful. Oh, Mr. Wonderful. You don�t even know I exist. Standing by the piano in your thin maroon sweater and ski cap, your dark hair curling up above the brim. You smile when you sing, the top notes ringing out like Christmas bells, the low notes like the rumble of an earthquake. How can such cheer and such danger exist within one voice?

Who are you? What are you like? How do you spend your time? What are you doing here in this room practicing, scarcely noticing how I sneak in to watch you and hang on everything you say and sing. I sit in the corner on the brown leather couch, transfixed by you. My heart jitterbugging away, turning flips and being dipped by every vowel and consonant that dances out of your pouty cherry red mouth.

Oh Mr. Wonderful, Mr. Super-terrific-fantastical-Wonderful Boy. You have renewed my faith in men, in lust, in desire, in the future. Even if I never say a word to you, I will love you for the rest of my life.