Dulli Noted  One smoggy day in West Hollywood circa 1985, I was
standing behind the front counter at Tower Records' Sunset Strip
branch when Greg Dulli, my best friend among my co-workers,
entered the store carrying a plate of edibles and wearing a
merry grin. "It's Cornbread Day," announced Dulli, a fledgling
actor still several years away from alterna-stardom with the
Cincinnati-based band Afghan Whigs. "Today only, customers get a
piece of cornbread with every purchase."  True to his word,
Dulli pushed the flaky, yellowish slabs, which he'd made
himself, at anyone who dared bring an LP to the main register.
The responses he received generally broke down along class
lines: More affluent types were leery of the offer--fearing,
perhaps, that Dulli was propagating an elaborate food-poisoning
scheme--while hungry, disheveled musician wannabes gobbled up
the grub, visibly grateful to be ingesting something other than
their dietary staple, ramen noodles.  Dulli was unfailingly
chipper to everyone whether they ate