Good morning!

The NSO Pops has a new conductor: Steven Reineke.

Marina Abramovic and Julian Schnabel will visit the Hirshhorn this spring.

The National Book Fair expands to two days.

Free Lohan or something, whatever.

Glee fans will have to go to Philly if they want to catch the touring show.

Underage jerks have ruined the U Street Music Hall for themselves. Happy?

Hunter Styles of D.C. Theatre Scene nails it in this review of Taffety Punk's Owl Moon.

OK, on to the fun stuff!

This map of Black Eyed Peas Superbowl performance satisfaction is deeply gratifying.

The Malcolm Gladwell Book Generator offers titles such as "The Paradox Paradox."

Hipster Little Mermaid listens to Belle & Sebastian, and her dad owns Pitchfork (GET IT?). 

And now, as promised: the best Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark review I've read, which does not come from the Post's Peter Marks (As CP's Jonathan Fischer says, he was not snarky enough) but from New York Magazine. Some choice excerpts:

"The result is savage and deeply confusing — a boiling cancer-scape of living pain."

"The show's metabolism speeds up in the second act, even as its central nervous system breaks down."

Best:

"The second act, taken all in all, is basically how I've always imagined the Björk–Matthew Barney honeymoon: lots of atavistic rock-moaning, lots of 40-story phallic symbols, lots of bees."