In a decision lauded by some and mocked by others, the Nobel folks have decided that this year’s literature prize goes to … Bob Dylan.
Oddly enough, I only own one Dylan album. I know some huge Dylan fans, and in comparison to them, I barely register. And yet, this blogge is full of the influence of our latest Nobel laureate:
They will be leaving, about the most recent rapture.
Ah, yes, with the Wisconsin union fights, it seems you couldn’t turn on a TV without seeing… Charlie Sheen?
How do you do science, when God intervenes? Is there a control for that?
Of course, God intervenes all the time in football. Especially on Super Bowl Sunday.
And a silly little announcement for a blog carnival hosted by the much-missed TUIBGuy.
And, of course, the Christians in Cranston, deciding whether to appeal.
Congratulations to him! Comments are open for those who think this is a good idea, a bad idea, the best idea, or the worst. I, myself, really have no opinion.
If Nobel Prizes actually meant anything, then maybe I’d have an opinion.
The Nobel committee is clearly laying the foundation for a multi-year sweep of the prizes by American poets. So next year!
Bob who?
Leonard Cohen was cheated!
They couldn’t give it to Lennon and McCartney, since they’re both dead.
I want to live long enough to see Tom Waits win!
Years ago my best friend’s favourite composers were Mozart and Dylan. He speculated that had they been contemporaries Dylan would have called himself Roberto di Zimmermani.