9 Minutes Left

Somedays I am so busy at work that I can't get anything done. Then there's today. It's like Father Time got himself stuck in a vat of cold tar. Yeah, he's climbing out of it, but it's taking a while because he's got arthritis. Oh, that, and he's stopping every 15 minutes or so for coffee.

Here I am, minutes before the factory whistle blows, so, of course, every moment is passing even more slowly than that other slow time I was just talking about.

It's not like I have some exciting thing to do at home or anything. Mostly homework for this week's classes. But boy, I can't wait to get out of here.

It's all Sam's fault

I don't know if you knew this, but everything is Wal-Mart's fault.

This point was driven home to me today as I read an article in the Strategist that explained why so many journalists are leaving an exciting life of reporting to become PR flacks. The explanation? Here you go:

"Media analysts blame ... the rise of Wal-Mart, which, unlike the department stores the retail colossus often displaces, spends little on newspaper ads."

So there you have it. Wal-Mart is driving could-have-been-Pulizer-prizewinning newshounds to a life of inglorious spindom.

What else? Sam, et. al., are responsible for babies, one CEO's sore behind and "brilliant new films." I'm pretty sure this is their fault, too.

You're not the boss of me

I can update (or not update) this blog as often (or inoften) as I want. So there.

Now go chew on your own poopy peas.

The Gramophone Awards

My reaction to the Grammys: I don't really like U2's latest album. In fact, it was a big letdown for me. The only slightly worthwhile song on the thing was "Vertigo," and it felt like a retread. I loved the previous effort, you know, the one with the really long name? I count it as one of my favorites of the last few years. Also, like you, I adore "Actung Baby." But this "Dismantle" thing? Sub par. Doesn't stack up to "AB" or the other one with the really long name or "Joshua Tree." Crap, it's not even close to "Rattle and Hum." The emperor has no clothes, man.

As for the rest of the winners: Mariah Carey is a no talent a**-clown. No one wanted your copycat comeback. Go away. We got Beyonce now, and we don't want her, either. Green Day -- all your songs sounded like other songs I already heard and liked, so I guess your songs were pretty okay, too. Here's a Grammy. Kelly Clarkson, your song is aural crack. Illegal. I don't want to like it, but no one can't not like it. Stevie Wonder ... uh, okay. Maroon 5 does a better Stevie Wonder than you do nowadays, so let's give them one, too.

People who got an award who deserved it: Kanye West. Yep ... Lando Calrissian, his own self. Yeah, I'm a Kanye West fan. Not as big a one as he is, but I have to admit he's got skillz.

Also, someone needs to explain to the Grammys that Richard Pryor, although funny at times, never sang anything.

Sellout

Some of you have asked about my ads, which appear at the top of the page above all the posts. Pretty, no?

It's true -- I sold out to the man. Maybe you've heard of him. His name is Google.

So the way it works: I write about something, say tasty all-beef hot dogs or heavy metal icon Zakk Wylde, and WHAMMO, Google serves you up an ad for a real sabrett casing style hot dog (you know, the dog that SNAPS when you bite into it) and a heavy-duty, signed Zakk Wylde wah-wah pedal to accommodate all of your wah-wah needs.

If you click, I get a very small percentage of the ad revenue. How I get it is a bit of a mystery to me. I have yet to get it. In fact, I'm beginning to think I may never get it ...

Perhaps the key to me getting paid is a lot of people clicking on the ads. In that case, Mr. Google, don't bother posting an ad for the ever-appealing Socrates may I recommend an ad for a sure-fire, compulsory click-o-rama? Here you go.

Why not no?

I've had a few people ask me why the name of my blog is "No." My answer? Why not no?

Yes, I realize that's an answer in question form, but If you don't like it, take it up with my homeboy Socrates.

Honestly ...

What does a post have to do around this joint to merit a comment?

Did you see that picture down there of mountain man Zakk Wylde? Holy crap already.