I don't know why I thought of this song when I woke up, bankrupt.
And I don't know why I'm laughing, only that it beats the alternatives.
Prizes, prizes, prizes ... all work guaranteed. ...
I'll have to call my friend the bankruptcy lawyer to see what restructuring all this debt will mean for some practical matters, like the fact I have two boys half way though college, and my promise to my dad was that I would help out the boys the way my dad helped out me. A more practical man would think this is not a bad time to be showing a little less income. Right.
I'm not sure whom to thank. The newspaper companies that were publicly held and failed to adequately reinvest their profits on research and development? Then maybe I wouldn't be sitting here wondering how it was that we watched as the Googles and Craigslists picked our lunch money clean. Then maybe we'd have been the ones to figure out how to let readers search for whatever they desired. We'd have been the ones to figure out the best ways to make the news personal and portable. We'd have been the ones to deliver an essential mash of the information the readers wanted and the information they needed.
Actually we still can be.