Treading Water

Scrappy, ill-formed, and about as erudite as Fox News. You were quite clearly warned of this on Saturday. Still, it is incumbent upon us to send a small tidbit your way, our latest contribution to Sugarzine, whose writing gigs seem to be like the mafia or skag, only less entertaining or romantic. It's a bug-eyed review of NIN's latest, for which we will probably camp outside of the Union Square Virgin so as to be an early adopter.

The article is also notable for having a byline passably close to our real identity, yet still maintaining the plausible deniability that is every job-seeker's prerequisite. Anyway, it can't hurt to put ourselves in front of the 'Zine's 350,000 claimed readers. Despite the fact that few of them feel the need to trouble the servers of Technorati, or indeed Google with their opinions of it, aside from the odd rapturous shopkeeper or D-list indie shop.

Still, we're just bitter, basking in a much smaller number of unique readers, most of whom are drawn to all kinds of weird material. You see, someone in San Dimas is looking for, er, tooled-up ladies, and thought we could help, whereas in fact we are powerless.

We're also completely unable to provide any information whatsoever about this Gumby character, or whatever slash fiction you want to see his rubbery form rubbing all over. We didn't grow up on him. No idea. How did we get the name for the blog? That would be telling, but it has, like so much of our cultural make-up, roots in failed music journalism of the 1990s we have known and loved. Sellah.