Not the best day to be trying to come up with scintillating posts. We're helplessly late with our latest little slice of archness, on account of our heart not really being in yet another article on yuppies psychically sandblasting another Brooklyn neighborhood. The dayjob yelps from underneath the desk, and this Miers business exposes what a shallow blogger we are.
Still, if there's one reason to log into the old blogger, it is to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MIG-HOLE. Not the birthday celebration, which we, ahem, were somewhat tardy in attending, but the REAL birthday. And anyone who's ever heard the cry of the wild Shed Seven will attest that REAL IS BETTER. Except for ultraviolence, and possibly Pamela Anderson.
So, so, so, we shall post what Mig-hole probably didn't get for his birthday:
Digital Underground - "Bran New Swetta"
Score "The Body-Hat Syndrome At J&R. Maybe even for Mig-Hole. Hmmmmm?
P.S. Why These Are Geeengahs, Bond-San!