
Nothing could be finer—Tropical Storm Ernesto laps at North Carolina coast.
Ernesto! Ernesto! Ernesto!
Ernesto!
The Aural Times is the musical hq and factory outlet for the music of Josh Millard, a musician and professional internet nerd in Portland, OR.
From February to Octoberish of 2006, the site was a thrice-weekly musical newspaper, published under this dictate: we sing the news so you don't have to. History and archives available [here].

Nothing could be finer—Tropical Storm Ernesto laps at North Carolina coast.
Ernesto! Ernesto! Ernesto!
Ernesto!

Former School Teacher Karr
Confesses To Ramsey Killing
Former School Teacher Karr
Confesses To Ramsey Killing

Death’s rich pageant—John Mark Karr confesses to killing JonBenet Ramsey, ten years after the case first became a tabloid staple. Of course, not everybody is buying the mea culpa. But at least The Enquirer has its cover for the week.
In office news, I interviewed another potential Intern yesterday. Spirited young fellow going by the handle Beakers, for reasons he did not go into in any depth. I suspect it may have something to do with pharmaceuticals, however—he recorded today’s song on the spot, insisting in a sort of frenzy that he had to “rock my face with a demo”, and then ran screaming out the door as soon as it was in the can.
If he ever comes screaming back in the door, I think I will keep him.


Damn that Geneva Convention—US Supreme Court rules 5-3 against legality of military tribunals in prosecution of Guantanamo prisoners. Critics of President Bush’s policies on Gitmo have been outspoken in their praise for the decision.
That the Interns have lately taken to calling the staff restroom “little Gitmo” does not please me; as it happens, our janitorial service has recently abandoned its contract after one too many unpleasant messes (about which the less details the better). That this lapse in sanitary upkeep coincided—by chance, and through no intervention on my part—with Ronaldo getting locked in for several hours earlier this week, has inspired a degree of humanitarian outrage from the Interns that I have not seen since the local minimart stopped stocking Nutty Bars.

Fourty-four years gone
he's leaving CBS
Won't sit in an office
sleeping behind a desk
He wanted substantive work
They'd rather he just sit and jerk
Back in Sixty-one
he tied himself to a tree
in a hurricane
and kept the cameras rollin'
March of oh-five
they were starting to cut him free
you could tell which way
the wind was blowin'
He wanted substantive work
They'd rather he just sit and jerk
Dan Rather
leaving CBS

Tenure, schmenure—Dan Rather will leave CBS News later this year. One imagines an uptick in playtime for a certain REM single over the next few months.
Mr. Rather, I’d trade you for any three Interns in a heartbeat.


Not-so-straight still great—US Senate rejects gay marriage amendment. No word yet on followup legislation regarding the bi-curious.
Things are certainly gay around the office, today—gearing up for the weekend one and all, the Interns are, by my reckoning, more rambunctious and distracted than I think I have seen them all year. There is something about the Spring. There is, I reckon, something in the air. And while these rolicking idiot gods of youth culture I call my staff are not exactly what I would think of as marriage material, I admit that, on a personal level, it pleases me to know that any ill-considered matrimony that might occur to them is not utterly out of the question, regardless of gender.

Dictionaries are for weenies—13-year-old New Jersey girl wins the National Spelling Bee. Young Miss Close left her Canadian opponent in second with a correct spelling of “ursprache”.
Here at the Times, we spell guitar “B R I A N M A Y”. Or we would, if I let the Interns do the copy-editing. However questionable their alphabesis may be, though, one cannot fault their fondness for the classic guitar harmonies of Queen—which is not to say that their nod (if you can call it that) to said group’s vocal harmonies should ever be spoken of again.

good things come
to those who wait
in line
at the unemployment office
It's part of a growth plan
They're doing share buybacks
It's part of a growth plan
They're playing industry catch-up
Heinz to cut 2700 jobs

Fiduciary bottle-smacking ahoy—ketchup fixture Heinz will reduce it’s workforce by 8% in what is being billed as a “growth plan” for the ailing company. Mustard spread over too much bread, as it were.
Personally, I’m a mayo man.

They got a hot tip
They're searching on the farm
They brought the dogs in
They're looking under a barn
FBI searching Michigan
for Jimmy Hoffa's corpse

Leave no Teamster unturned—the FBI is searching a Michigan farm for Hoffa’s body. It’s only been thirty-odd years since the former Teamster honcho disappeared, after all…
In the office, we are all looking forward to the weekend. I have some crosswords to catch up on—and some scotch—in the Intern-free comfort of my own home; and the Interns themselves are by and large already celebrating the weekend, judging by the amount of work they’ve managed not to get done today.
I should not be too harsh, though; they are still shaken by the disappearance of Dalton in the wilds of Montana. Some of the more ambitious among them—Kaitlin, for example, who has earned something better than two-fifths of an MBA in the last six years—have even pledged to form up a search party for him. Will they locate him in the next thirty years? I frankly no longer care.

The NSA's been watching
but they say they haven't been listenin'
The President says there was no
privacy invasion
NSA collected massive
database of phone call records
[they know they know
that you called me]

The call is coming from inside the house—NSA has built an exhaustive database of US phone records. President Bush responded unusually quickly to the news, declaring in a press conference that calls were not being listened to, simply tracked. Cold comfort to privacy advocates.
Former NSA director Michael Hayden’s recent nomination as director of the CIA is suddenly rather awkward.
On a more personal note, I am glad to be back, and I am never taking the Interns on a field trip ever again. My attorney and my psychotherapist have agreed that I should not go into details, but let me say this: there is no such thing as “nature’s toiletpaper”, and anyone who says otherwise is fired.

The US Energy Secretary
has stated his belief
That years will pass
before the price of gas
will see any relief
Energy chief
says gas prices won't drop

Time to break out the ten-speed—US Energy Secretary Samuel Bodman sees no relief in gas shortage for several years.
As it happens, The Aural Times is less affected by the current gas price spike than businesses elsewhere in the nation—for one thing, we have an excellent transit system in Portland, and for another, The Interns often reduce their dependecy on fuel-based transit further by passing out overnight in the office washroom.

He's been the public voice
of the Bush administration
floundering in Ari Fleischer's wake
But the President himself
announced McClellan's resignation
He's had all the press conference he can take
Scott McClellan
stepping down down down

These are some sweaty, nervous, stonewalling shoes to fill—Scott McClellan is stepping down as White House Press Secretary. I am almost afraid to contemplate the next data a point on a line descending from Ari Fleischer through McClellan. Time will tell.
As for the song—we have several Irish Interns, or at the very least Interns who habitually patronize a nearby Irish Pub. The seem to have got it into their heads that standing on a table and singing their assignment to local alcoholics is an acceptable use of company time.
And it’ll have to do; the entire staff seems to be in that rare state that goes beyond what could be decently described as hungover or even malaise. I believe I will never see humans who more closely resemble the living dead.
Exciting things happening behind the scenes—more news next week. The Marketing Director keeps high-fiving his assistant, but as his assistant is a life-size cardboard cutout of The Fonz, I do not want to unduly raise your hopes.

Brian Doyle
deputy press secretary
to the United States
Department of Homeland Security
Is faced with charges
for exposing a minor
to sexual largesse
Homeland Security aide
arrested in sex sting

News with an Internet twist—DHS deputy press secretary busted in child-sex net sting. Which is necessarily glossing a bit—for one thing, there were no actual children involved, just a detective with a thing for role-playing, as it were. Still, not a flattering situation for Mr. Doyle.
There are a lot of tricky questions here, but one thing is, or should be, clear: it’s not a good idea to start off a chat with a purported 14-year-old girl by declaring that you work for Homeland Security, as the real 14-year-old won’t much care, and on the flip side the undercover agent will be telling his buddies about this for weeks.
May your Friday be wholly without criminal charges.

Hey, hey, whaddaya say
It's the resignation of Tom DeLay
The scandal cost him some affection
From the GOP and the voting Texans
He won't run for re-election
Tom Delay
to give up seat in Congress

Tom DeLay, we hardly knew you.
Voices have spoken loudly—shrilly—gallingly—from both sides of the American political structure, and so I find that, standing here in the middle, their opposed and yet congruent protests cancel one another out in what our Audio Engineer likes to call destructive interference. The result is a sort of storm-eye here in the office; I sip my coffee and see to business in the calm and quiet of it all.
In fact, it’s rather too quiet. God knows what the Interns are doing.
I have heard it on the wire that we may see a good number of Yahoo! readers today, and so I say welcome; leave us a comment; don’t break anything; and, for god’s sake, buy something.

“Hello? Oh, good morning, Mother. How are—what? What’s that you say? AT&T to acquire BellSouth?”
“No, Mother, now that you ask, I suppose I don’t particularly miss Ma—”
“Ma Bell, I was going to say. I mean, really. Look, are you done?”
“Right. Good. Well, while I’m of two minds on government regulation of business practices, I have no love in my heart for—”
“For monopolies, Mother!”
“No, of course I didn’t mean you. You’re just being—”
“You know who is monopolizing this phone call, Mother?”
“Hello? Mother? Hello?”


According to on of the interns here at The Aural Times, today’s song is some sort of “europop” or “discopop”. Or something. I frankly do not know what to make of it. Perhaps I am just getting old.

Corpus Christi
A Vice-Presidential Quail
The Vice President's shotgun
Was aimed at Harry Whittington
VP Cheney accidentally
Shoots man during hunting trip

US Vice President Dick Cheney shoots 78-year-old Austin-based attorney Harold Whittington while hunting quail in Corpus Christi. VP Cheney was hunting quail without a properly stamped license. At press time, inquiries as to whether Cheney’s license was stamped for attorneys remain unanswered.
And with that, allow me to say hello and welcome to the inaugural edition of The Aural Times. It is my very great pleasure to introduce this fine new publication; and it is my great hope that you will find it a uniquely satisfying supplement to your standard news and/or musical diet.
Which is not to say I think you need to diet.
No, no, you look great. Really. I was—look, can we just forget—
Right. Anyway, welcome to The Aural Times. Read. Listen. Enjoy. And remember:
We Sing The News So You Don’t Have To.

