Whew!? That's one of those codewords, isn't it? Whew? Probably means that anyone who knows where I live should come to my house and strangle me with a thick, expensive power cord, and put me out of everyone's misery once and for all! You're one of them aren't you Tim? It may be too late for Tim, but for god's sake, if anyone else reading this has not succumbed to the wiley ways of this wicked bunch of ne'er-do-wells and still thinks "Whew" actually just means....well..Whew...Stop reading now and start packing your bags. Notify the press in case I don't make it to the airport tomorrow morning. My death will not go un-noticed and without meaning. You of the uninitiated may believe Porter's just making a jolly with his sly reference to the Iceland chick, but it's all a clever ruse to take suspicion away from him. Don't let him fool you. He's the ring-leader, the grand Poo-bah! Master of deception. Members of the sect plug in this week's code word at the end of the otherwise innocently amusing URL and sheezam, there's a map to my house, my flight number, a photograph of me, and all the information needed for the hit. I won't run this time Albert. Bring em'on! I'm stayin up late with Diesel at my feet. There'll be no grassy knolls to hide behind this time. If they do manage to get me then let my life be an eternal reminder to those innocents who come after me. You have been warned. Go away from here and enjoy your music without the benefit of dedicated AC lines, turntables that cost the price of a year at Harvard, or without the bragging rights afforded by cables that come with a diesel engine integrated into the housings! Save your money for dentist bills, tuition, vacation, and prostitutes. Get that bobbing head baseball-star figurine for the dashboard of your car that you've been wanting. Live large. Take chances.
Marco