Spare Me, Rupert, Here's Two Cents

My first cousin called last night.

He asked me how cold it was.

I told him it was cold enough to freeze the mucous inside one's nose.

He cackled like he does.

He said we were a lot alike.

I said yeah, fucked in the head.

He cackled again.

He told me some time ago that when people asked him what business he was in, he told them the mining business.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah. I mind my own business.

So, when people ask me what I'm doing I tell them I'm working at getting a thousand people to send me nineteen ninety-five a month for the rest of their lives.

Well, Rupert Murdoch has outdone me again. Usually, it's Warren Buffet.

Ninety-nine cents a  week, automatically billed to your credit card.

Where do I sign up? I mean to get the ninety-nine cents a week.

The Daily. Clever, huh? How long will it be before people start calling it McDaily?


The guy's rich, right? OK, superrich, so what, never mind.

Ever since he took over the The Wall Street Journal, one is more likely to read some drivel about why the party's over at Apple Computer. Puhlease.


Now, it turns out he's been sleeping with those mothers.

By the way, how do I get Game Center off my iPhreakin' phone?

The fix is in.

If Rupert has his way, you'll never be able to get that ninety-nine cents off your credit card. You will have been assimilated.

Did I mention the advertising content?

Remember when television with commercials was free?