The deadline and I are neck and neck heading down the stretch. I have every intention of winning, so bear with me. I may be able to post some little Rifftides bauble tomorrow. The article, for Jazz Times, is only a couple of thousand words, but it requires an extensive amount of listening, so much that by the time it’s done, there will be a violation of the writers minimum wage law. Where’s my agent?
What do you mean, I don’t have an agent?
Oh, that’s right. I fired him.
What do you mean, there’s no writers minimum wage law?
Now you tell me.