A coworker asked me this morning if I had seen the Grammy’s last night. The answer, of course, was no. I had better things to do, like shave my balls with a cheese grater. Why the fuck would I watch the Grammy’s? If I wanted to watch a group of sub-literates perform a mass reach-around in public, I’d go to the monkey house at the fucking zoo. “Well, Led Zeppelin won the Grammy for best rock album.” And what do you know? They did. Continue reading