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Last night I could not sleep. I had a vague loop of the Shins' "Caring is Creepy" running through my head, and it kept morphing into Blondie's "Rapture," giving me the most inane and peculiar dreams.

The subconscious Blondie was most likely inspired by reading yesterday that some genius has decided to make a West End stage version of "Desperately Seeking Susan" with music from Debbie Harry and Chris Stein. Because everything from the 80s must be ironically repackaged so that we oldsters can feel good about enjoying it. "Xanadu" has now rolled its way onto Broadway, and the New York Times loves it.

But I ask you, where is the campy singalong "Purple Rain"? Who doesn't love that brilliant soundtrack (besides Tipper Gore)? Who will be the 21st Century's Morris Day? How much comedy gold can be milked from the line, "That ain't Lake Minnetonka"?

Somebody needs to get on this.

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