Word: sweets
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...moot doesn't see any of that sweet lolcat money, by the way. Not that he's bitter. He has met the owners of icanhascheezburger.com. "They seem like nice people," he says. "You can't blame them for taking something and capitalizing on it. I don't." But he's barely covering costs. moot runs ads on 4chan, but the site needs massive amounts of bandwidth, and corporations are leery of associating their products with 4chan's content. "It's been a pretty uphill battle getting advertisers to take us seriously and appreciate the community and the power it wields...
While the forecast is still murky on exactly how NBC will leverage its new acquisition, all watchers agree that the sellers got a sweet deal. "We feel it is a very fair price," says Decker Anstrom, president of Landmark Communications, who called the sale a "bittersweet moment" for the privately owned family business, which launched the cable channel back in 1982. Initially derided as the brunt of jokes, the forecast focused channel became profitable within four years and soon had established itself as a media category killer. Sheryl Crow named a song after it in 2002, and today...
...Moreover, one suspects that the gonzo qualities of his work - not that anyone has ever defined what that term actually means - seem to be an expression of a nature grown increasingly addled by dope and drink. Like a lot of addicted people, Thompson often appeared to be rather sweet-souled, almost passive, when he was clear-minded. His rage came out when he was alone at the typewriter, pounding out copy against deadlines that he almost always missed. As is always the case in journalism, when he was against the gun, editors had two choices: run what Thompson wrote, however...
Track 3: IRS This is a really good song. Like this could sneak into a GnR Greatest Hits album and no one would notice. It starts with a sweet little wail about how a woman has changed to be no good. Then, to resolve this matter, he says he's "gonna call the President/ gonna call a private eye/ gonna get the IRS/ gonna need the FBI," which I can't get out of my head. It interrupts its super-rockingness with little bits of mellowness to keep me interested, and then some weird named guitarist rocks...
...still don't feel that it's breakfast. (After all, McDonald's slaps that exact same chicken patty on a roll with pickles and sells it at lunch as the Southern Style Chicken Sandwich.) I need to be eased into my day with something comfortingly soft or sweet. And breakfast meats of any kind gross me out. But if everyone else is eating sausage and bacon, I am not going to judge people for a fried-chicken biscuit. They are pioneers. Thirsty pioneers, no doubt, but pioneers...