Smell my feet, time cops! I'll post when I want.
I've recently read a couple of articles about blogging raising the questions: Is it a dead fizzle? Is it over? Is it (was it) a revolution or a waste of time?
Well, I've got plenty of ideas and counter notions, but I will drag my unpaid heiny back to face the keyboard LATER to distill a pithy, perspicacious response. At this second, I'm about the fun. (That's part of my argument, I think.)
So here, via Hugh Hewitt's blog, is a database of the Billboard's #1 song on any given date. What were the hip kids groovin' to while you were busy emerging to join the existential party? Suffice it to say, if my mother could've held out another week, I'd have been way better off. My birthday's theme song is, sadly, a ridiculous, non-catchy ode to tragedy among the illiterate that I've always hated. It's now the kind of thing not even a drunken 50-year old truck stop waitress picks from the Carry-okee songbook anymore.
Still, my Pimp Name turned out much better. Which do I love more? Reverend Henway Flow or Professor Truth Twingo Large. Macktastic! You betta recognize!
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