OK Kids, I know the Grammy's are over and done. Based on the speed Bloggers run, the Grammy's are ancient history. Channelling Steve Martin here: Well Excuuuuuuuuse me. I've been busy. Deal with it.
How is it that Cold Play wins for Best Rock Album? I just envision Robert Plant, when he finally stopped staring at Alison Krause's cleavage, going "what in the bloody hell..."
Somewhere on Mount Fender the gods of rock wept.
If I were Cold Play, and based on those ridiculous jackets they wore I'm glad I'm not, I'd be on the lookout. It's like a moral imperative that Keith Richards, Jon Bon Jovi, The Boss, Steven Tyler, Axl Rose, the little guy in the shorts from AC/DC named after a cow, and quite possibly the dude from Dokken if he can pry himself loose from his leather pants, find them and beat them to a mashy, sullen pulp.
That's it.
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2 comments:
In a world where blogging seems to be dying a slow death, in deference to Facebook and Twitter, you give me hope, plenty to think about, and almost always a much-needed laugh. Keep 'em coming!
With appreciation from one of your gentle readers....
Ok, I'm going to forgive you because you're really funny and I like writing with you.
Coldplay rocks. Rocks hard.
Plus, they're really decent guys.
Diss on them again, and I might force feed you some of that mexican food you say causes you to puke yourself inverted.
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