I didn't want to do a column this week.

After all the turmoil in the financial markets the last few weeks, and my regular meetings with important people, I thought, fuck this, I gotta focus!

I must zone in on the important stuff. Why do I need to explain myself to the people? They know what I stand for. Or lean against the wall for. I've got more important things to do than explain everything to everyone (And why won't they leave me alone? It's not like the media doesn't have anything better to do with their time!).

Like, for instance, contemplating the ceased existence of Paul Newman. One of my favorite actors of all time, he did a ton of great work--and most of it was in black and white! Hud, The Hustler and Cool Hand Luke. A pretty great trilogy (although not actually connected by much other than the shrinking West and Newman himself) I would totally absorb myself with this weekend if not for the fact that I've got other important things to do.

How busy am I? Well, I'm writing this on Saturday, and I'm not hung over at all! I'm driving to Ruidoso tomorrow (Sunday), and don't have time to do this tomorrow morning. I'm gonna miss the Chiefs get their asses handed to them by the Broncos. In fact, I'll miss most of football tomorrow because I'll be on the road.

Luckily, I've got a new iPod. My first. It was rather painless to get one. In fact, the youngsters at the electronic super store were practically jumping around me like so many puppies as I announced, "I want a silver one!"

"I'll put it at register 6, and if you want a 16 gig, I can get one of those for you, and feel free to look around, I've got this covered and thank you Mr. Man, let me personally know if you need anything or everything!"

I thought about asking to look into her little back room where she hides all the iPods, but then felt a bit...

Yes, it was glorious and quick. And really, really small. I think this is the smallest thing I've ever paid hundreds of dollars for. I've been refining my playlist since the thing picked one for me right after plugging it into the mother host (my laptop) and accessing the music section of my brain.

And then it was time to get serious.

I had a half bottle of Petite Sirah, the rest of a bag of salad and a frozen rice thingie (apparently it was Greek, but mostly it was mush) from the healthy food store where I get take-out sushi, peanuts and gummy bears.

And those two guys running for the worst job in America were explaining why they wanted it so bad.

I have to say I was mesmerized by the EKG lines at the bottom of the CNN screen. I thought McCain was just going to drop dead when he started talking about Iraq and the EKG almost fell off the bottom of the screen. Even that red line was having trouble staying above par. I guess people really do want out of the war.

In fact it was the fine candidates' decision to go ahead with the debate that made me realize I needed to write to you all this week.

Can't let the people down, even if I am just really, really busy.

I haven't even been able to get properly drunk in the last week, just kinda drunk. No falling into door jambs, strange bruises or breaking glasses on the floor. Just a little wobbliness and dehydration in the middle of the night. My bar is wondering why there aren't any martini fixings on its trusty wooden planks. We had a little heart to heart last night, and I think it understands my position.

But tonight I will rock with the boys, break a few sticks and strings, howl at the moon a bit and remember there are some men you just can't reach.

Matt Worley urges everyone to watch a Paul Newman flick this week. There's one for everyone, even the kids can watch Cars and revel in the Alpha Male Paulness of it all.