High school dropout Mason Jennings likes to do things his own way, whether you like it or not. Usually you do, such as when he sold 20,000-odd copies of his 1998 self-titled debut album out of the trunk of his car. You swooned for his stop-and-go acoustic poetry and gentle sense of loud and soft; you knew him before he hopped aboard Jack Johnson's hippiemobile and started playing big, sold-out shows in California. You even suffered through a ridiculous surfer movie (Shelter) featuring Johnson and Ben Harper just because Jennings was on its soundtrack. You're not too thrilled about his "jammy" pretensions of recent years, but you're willing to blame that on Johnson, a man who (hopefully) will be nowhere near Blueberry Hill's Duck Room when Jennings takes the stage this Friday, June 4. You'll be there to cheer and throw tasteful undergarments at this Minneapolis-based heartthrob, whether he likes it or not. You've earned it.