New York Yankee radio announcer John Sterling is a master of that old Dale Carnegie saw of telling us what he'll tell us, telling us, and then telling us what he told us. Last night, he was telling us for the umpteenth time that shortstop Derek Jeter was a bona fide superstar who'd be a first-ballot Hall of Famer. All that talk about his slowing down was a fabrication of "the media," which "likes to build stars up so they can knock them down."

You've probably been wondering what impact the emerging bribery scandal in Mexico will have on both Wal-Mart, the corporate entity, and Walmart, the brand above the portals that consumers enter in their hometowns and online every day. More on the former than the latter, one intuitively suspects, but we thought we'd take a look at what others were writing this morning.

Country signer Rosanne Cash wailing a tune called "Land of Dreams" is the grabber in a global campaign for U.S. Tourism that will be unveiled today at International Pow Wow 2012, which opened yesterday at the Los Angeles Convention Center and runs for three days. The spot carries the tagline "Discover this land like never before," Andy Fixmer reports in "Bloomberg Businessweek."

In a call to non-action that no doubt froze the screens of people who market personal computers everywhere, the "Wall Street Journal"'s influential tech columnist Walt Mossberg yesterday granted the everyday, average consumer "permission to procrastinate" on buying a new laptop unless their current machines are sputtering on their last boot-ups.

Dick Clark, who died yesterday at 82, knew he wanted to make his living speaking into a microphone after seeing comedians Jimmy Durante and Garry Moore on stage in a New York theater when he was 13, he once told an interviewer. He went on to study advertising and radio at Syracuse University before taking a job at a Philadelphia television station that would lead to his becoming the impresario most responsible for making rock and rock a viable commercial medium.

Reporters around the world have been scrambling to catch up with a report late yesterday that Nestle was the leading candidate to acquire Pfizer's infant formula business and that a deal for upwards of $9 billion could be announced as early as next week. Primarily, the inquirers have found that the deal is not done, however, and "last minute jockeying could alter the playing field," as Anupreeta Das, Dana Cimilluca and Jonathan D. Rockoff initially reported in the "Wall Street Journal." Danone and Mead Johnson are said to be the primary also-rans-in-the-making.

Ford announced that it would be overhauling the Ford Mustang for its 50th anniversary quite a while ago but a story by the Wall Street Journal's Michael Ramsey yesterday has the auto-punditocracy asking larger questions about what it all means, particularly to the Boomers who, it seems, revel in anything that reminds them that they once were young. (How else to explain a recent Newsweek commemorative issue on The Beatles that bring backs memories of Tiger Beat?)

"Partisan emotions are running high this election year, but one thing unites us: We all hate paying taxes," Bloomberg's Suzanne Woolley and Ben Steverman remind us as the yearly ritual of gathering receipts and crying over lost deductions hits fever pitch. So, as just one more diversion from the unpleasant task of crunching numbers, they offer a slide show of Hollywood's Top 10 depictions of the "bloodless bureaucrats who range from the socially awkward to the positively demonic."

Walter Lord's slim, gripping A Night To Remember was a staple on many high school reading lists a generation (or so) ago and it provided about all I ever thought I'd ever want to know about the mishap at sea that carried the larger moral lesson that pride goeth before an iceberg. Well, we may have all learned early that "The Titanic wasn't unsinkable, but there's no keeping down the marketing on the eve of its big day," as Ben Casselman and Ann Zimmerman put it in the Wall Street Journal this morning.

It's a subject not openly spoken about in friendly poker games, slow-pitch softball dugouts or at your friendly, neighborhood gazillion-beers-on-tap joint but I can tell you it's seething in the minds of men across the republic: "Heavens to Murgatroyd, how the heck did it get so expensive to shave?"