We boycotted the whole blog revolution simply because our breathtaking writing skills were already being brought to you each week through electrical wires full of our monkey-flung electrons, aimed straight for your inbox. Lately though, we've been thinking about jumping on the podcast bandwagon. Wouldn't it be great if people could actually hear our sagely imprudence dispensed each week through their totally not-obvious white headphones? We embarked on the project, but hit a roadbloack. We realized that it took all of our 27 warehouses of ghostwriters a whole week to come up with a full written paragraph. Trying to get a well-worded spoken verse of wisdom captured on audio media was basically impossible. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that our ghostwriters are monkeys randomly pressing keys at typewriters, or clairvoyant manatees scratching out messages from beyond on their lunch lettuce. It also might have to do with the fact that the music industry has laid claim to sound waves, and hence the atmosphere, so no one can breathe or talk without paying them $3000 first. Or else they'll sue your mom, and your cat, who was apparently downloading copies of "Mexican Radio" by Wall of Voodoo under the screenname "hotkitty_54" at 4:12 AM on June 31st. It doesn't matter that there is no June 31st, they'll sue Mittens anyway - they have it on record. So, no podcast for you! Just a drink.