Number 9, Number 9

It's been some fine powder this year. I just love snow.

It seems client #9, the man who brought the major labels to their knees, has stumbled over his own little head, and now he's the one on his knees.

I got to say, the ex-governor ain't cheap, he didn't skimp on his playmate. "Pay for play" has taken on new meanings.

Plus it's shameful how many record executives are rejoicing over today's resignation of Eliot Spitzer.

I'm Boarding, NARAS is Pimping

The snow is good. But it looks like NARAS is pimping. So, I had to half pipe up.

That's right. Neil Portnow, Grammy man himself, insists the show shall go on, so he's plunging ahead with this year's show, writer's strike or not.

I ask the Grammy Musicians: does this help creativity and art or your bottom line?

Mr. Grammy Man, those clever words you're using don't hide the fact that you're feeding yourself and stabbing the WGA in the back.

Beyonce and Dave Grohl, shame on you too. Crossing a picket line is bad juju!