New year, same old crap on tv…

But really, what else are we going to watch?! If anything, reality TV has been the most successful ongoing experiment to test just how desperate we, the people, are for televised entertainment. Sure, we’ve also had Jerry “You Ain’t My Baby Daddy” Springer and Ron “Why use just an ordinary fork when you can use the Amazing Fork-o-Matic 5000?!” Popeil and even Monday Night “I’m not athletic enough to do it myself, but I can still drink beer and idolize other guys doing it on TV in a totally heterosexual manner…” Football, but in the end, nothing has pushed the boundaries of desperate viewers near and far quite like reality television…

Of course, I bring this up, not because I’ve already failed on too many of my New Years resolutions to mention, but more so because this week one of the first reality TV shows that I ever watched, The Real World, celebrated the premiere of its 21^st season. You know the one – where seven strangers are picked to live in a house to find out just how zany people get when they’re surrounded by hot members of the opposite sex who have nothing but free time because they don’t actually have to work and pay rent on said ridiculously lavish house that they’d otherwise never be invited into for the purposes of fixing the cable, much less spending the next six months of their lives? Good times.

Actually, I’m not sure if I should admit this, but growing up I honestly really enjoyed The Real World, as much as a prepubescent young boy can enjoy watching sexy twenty-somethings lounge around doing cool stuff like playing pool and hanging out in the Jacuzzi and gettin’ crazy just off camera, but close enough that we could guess what was going on. It was a show that had everything that I was looking for – hot, feisty chicks, buckets of controversy, and a timeslot right after Saved by the Bell – what more could a kid without a social life want?!

And sadly, as I eventually transcended into adulthood, things didn’t get much, at least with regards to my social life, and thus Survivor came onto the horizon, where we replaced the house with an island, the trendy clothes with bikinis and skirts made out of palm fronds, and even added the little bonus of a million bucks prize money to spice things up a bit and ensure that everyone would stay at each others’ throats over the next 39 days. I lost a good portion of my mid-twenties to Survivor, eventually jumping ship around season 187 (editor’s note: actually 10) when unbelievably, I found myself finally bored of watching women who haven’t showered in three weeks duke it out in their bikinis…

Of course, the whole eating rats thing didn’t help, either.

I think even those among us who find themselves even more engrossed in reality TV than me (i.e. you’ve never seen sunlight in the last 15 years) will sheepishly admit that our beloved reality television is definitely one of the guiltiest of pleasures of our time. Case in point – the one I’m watching right now takes a mansion full of women who’ve posed in Playboy (or at least will after their appearance on the show) and coerced them into all swooning over three eligible bachelors, all of whom would be more than happy to date a woman who’s showed her ha-has in Playboy, except for that one teensy, little detail that their Mom’s are also living in the house and are all too eager to share their opinions about who’s too hussy or fussy for their favorite sons. Hell hath no fury like a Mom who doesn’t want her son dating a porn slut…

What’s that, you’ve been watching Mama’s Boy (on NBC), too?!

Can you believe what happened the other week with Megan’s breakdown?! I know!!!

But the funny thing is that even though each of us no doubt have our own guilty pleasure reality favorites, we also are quite clear to maintain a list of other shows that we wouldn’t be caught dead watching, too. So whereas I used to enjoy me some Survivor and I’ll still watch The Apprentice, I couldn’t care less about Big Brother and will readily admit that The Amazing Race is simply way to amazingly boring for me. I’m sure you’re the same way, dreaming at night about being the next big contestant on American Idol or Dancing with Screech from Saved by the Bell: The College Years, but turn on a rerun of Fear Factor where they’re eating baby alligator eggs and then swimming with the mothers and the line is firmly drawn! And yet that’s the beauty of reality TV shows, in that they’re so cheap to put on the air, you can crank out eight or nine different hits about fire breathers and midgets and fire breathing midgets, and people who want to date fire breathing midgets, and if by some odd twist of fate nobody ends up watching it, you can still just keep on trucking next season with your groundbreaking new series about nine hermaphroditic sheep herders picked to live on a mountain to find out what happens when people stop being polite and the sheep start biting back.

Now that I’ve given the folks at FOX another three seasons worth of material, it’s time for me to bid you ado so that I can grab some popcorn before The Littlest Ninja comes on. You know the one, where they pick 127 highly-skilled ninjas and place them in a cafeteria filled with traffic cops and silly putty, then … well, I don’t want to spoil it for you, but let me just tell you, when those ninjas get mad – wow! Parking tickets and silly putty everywhere! I’ll bet you that was a game of Twister that those traffic cops won’t soon forget…

With reality like this, who needs the real thing?!

Why do we get ourselves into debt???

No, seriously – I want to know because when I read a headline stating that 65% of Americans have at least $5,800 of revolving credit card debt to their names*, it makes me question the sanity of 65% of Americans…and it certainly doesn’t help that the same article reports that 52% are overweight* and another 112% are still convinced that Dr. Phil and a few weeks of Weight Watchers are the answers to their prayers*, either…but that’s an entirely different column altogether (refer to Are You Happy Now? Are You?! for my opinions about that issue…). Nope, today we’re going to talk about money, my general lack of any, and if we have any free time left at the end, I might show you some pictures of my new cat, too…

So if you’re anything like me, and statistics show that a whopping 247% of you are*, you like buying stuff, which is pretty understandable because, well, stuff is great! It entertains, it amuses, it even makes Julian Fries…and that’s not even the deluxe model! Stuff is always there when you need it, you can always just go out and buy some more if you happen to run out, and most importantly, it never, ever has a “headache.” Whoever said that we shouldn’t get attached to material goods must not have had a lot of stuff himself, that’s for sure!

We all have our own little treasures that we collect, much to the dismay of our friends and significant others who still seem to be convinced that love is more important than material possessions – as if! Myself, I’m a big movie buff and often boast of a DVD collection that rivals many video stores these days. I also hoard Disney memorabilia like it’s going out of style and it goes without saying that a portion of that previously mentioned DVD catalog no doubt played a direct hand in putting Eisner’s kids through college! Among my other collectible fetishes range everything from classic video games to books of every shape, size, color and genre, snow globes, old-fashioned pub glasses, and just about anything that you could slap a fish on…or at least a picture of a fish, that is…

…and it’s because of my love for all of this stuff that I, along with 65% of the folks around this country *, find ourselves buried under literally mountains of credit card debt! It’s like comedian Tim Cavanagh once said, “Imagine only spending just as much as you got paid!” What’s the fun of having it if you can’t have it right now, really?! Well, thanks to the powers of the charge card and low introductory rates, you can have it now, along with a limited edition, gold-embossed collector’s case to store it in – does it get any classier than this? This signed certificate of authenticity says an emphatic NO!!!

Now this far into the column, you’re probably beginning to wonder exactly when I’m going to lay it all out and explain to you all, in easy to follow instructions, step-by-step what you need to do to get yourselves out of debt…but who do you think you’re reading here, anyways?! I’m just as bad off as the rest of you, and possibly even worse as soon as my latest Sounds of the 80’s compilation 20-disc set arrives next week, so turning to me for financial advice is pretty much like turning to Donald Trump for directions to the nearest McDonalds. Besides, why would I want to steer my good friends away from buying everything that their cheesy, platinum-edition hearts desire – stuff is great!

So if you take just one thing from today’s column…and even that may very well be an oversight also, just remember this – it’s not necessarily he who dies with the most toys that wins, but actually he whom is designated as the sole benefactor in the will of he who dies with the most toys! Happy spending, and may the collection agencies always be one step behind you…

* Disclaimer: 87% of statistics are made up on the spot, but that’s an entirely different column…

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a little column that apparently sparked some sort of proverbial riot amongst my Arizona and Indiana-based readers (along with one stray Alaskan guy who just managed to wander into the wrong place at the wrong time…) that resulted in literally a dozen e-mails featuring a plethora of various spelling and grammatical errors making random appearances on my desktop. I always make it a point to take my fan mail to heart with as much sincerity as I can manage to stomach at the time, so instead of following my normal routine of printing them out and pinning them up around the walls of my bedroom (Ego? What’s that?!), I thought that it was only fitting to give these inbox gems a bit of the special attention that only immense amount of free time and an Internet connection can provide…

So you may be wondering what exactly, behind all of the ‘net jargon and naughtiness, these e-mails that I’m referring to actually pertained to…and you may also be wondering just how long I’m going to drag this column out before I actually get around to filling you in on all of the juicy gossip that fills my mailbox on a regular basis! As if I would seriously just ramble on and on without any consideration for your own personal sanities, procrastinating the original point of this week’s column in the first place – I’d like to think that you’ve come to expect a little more than that over the years from a professional writer like myself…but of course, I’d also like to think that fellow columnist Dave Barry has a chance of taking the upcoming Presidential election and turning this country into a land where giant, killer grasshoppers and booger jokes are given the proper respect that they deserve, so that having been said:

Our Friend, the Ostrich
Considered by many to be the strongest and most fierce birds in the animal kingdom, the common ostrich can grow to heights of up to eight feet tall and weigh over three hundred pounds. Due to its relatively small wingspan as compared to its enormous size, the ostrich depends on its speed and agility to elude predators, attaining speeds of nearly forty miles per hour – a rate that has been known to leave most horses in the dust! Nonetheless, although this bird has been known to intimidate humans and many wild creatures with its cautious and sharp presence, the ostrich is actually an herbivore and only kills for spite…

Not quite sure if I just made that last part up or not? Well, I dare you to find out for yourself! Anyways, where were we? Something about special e-mails, right?! I think I’ve dragged this one on long enough, so let’s get back to the disgruntled Arizonians and Indianians, ok? For those of you who didn’t read my column from a few weeks back entitled Saving Daylight, basically we simply took a little time to discuss the great celebration that is Daylight Savings Time and all of the joys that said celebration spreads around the world. Of course, as you may already be aware, there are a few remote parts of the world that don’t recognize Daylight Savings Time – mind you, most of these are merely because they don’t have any clocks to turn back in the first place, but I must admit that it was a bit saddening to learn that there are more than a couple of places right here on our home turf that don’t observe this national pastime, so I decided to entertain my proactive side and take the next step to do something about it, much to the dismay of those involved.

No, I didn’t drive to Indiana and/or Arizona, just start walking into homes and begin changing their clocks myself, although hindsight that would’ve been a less disruptive approach, but instead I chose to utilize my pen in an attempt to sway these folks towards the way of the daylight. This attempt failed miserably not because I was completely and totally just making everything up, but more so because these folks were actually taking me seriously – I thought I told you never to do that! I’m going to just share a little secret here with you right now – this humor column is here to entertain you, not to persuade or educate you! If I was trying to actually persuade you, wouldn’t you think that I’d be focusing more on the important things that I can back up with actual facts, such as How much wood a woodchuck actually can chuck and why those birds suddenly appear every time you are near?! I’m not any more qualified to educate than your high school Phys. Ed. teacher was, so what are you thinking, honestly?

So from this point on, I’ve decided that it can either go one of two ways – I can spend hours upon hours researching each and every one of my columns to ensure the accuracy of all information within or I can just throw in twice as many booger and fart jokes until it’s painfully obvious what my objectives are – which would you prefer? I’ll give you a couple of weeks to think about it, but in the meantime, consider this – ostriches have been known to travel in flocks of up to 600 birds and lay their eggs inside the homes of anyone who doesn’t observe Daylight Savings Time – and they said that learning can’t be fun!

Living in a small town can be both a blessing and a curse, and having grown up in one of these smaller communities, I think I can safely say that I’ve gotten more than my share of experience at both ends of the spectrum. There is a certain charm to living in an area where the trees still manage to outnumber the residents – being able to walk down the street without getting shot at is always nice, as is not having to wait a half an hour at the ATM to make a ten dollar withdrawal. Nonetheless, John Mellencamp wasn’t kidding when he sang about the little opportunity around these towns because I, for one, can vouch just how easily it is to be bored out of your freaking mind in a place like this!

“But up in the Great White North, there’s all sorts of things to do – you can go huntin’, or fishin’, or hikin’…” or so the people claim, but come on – this isn’t the 1930’s, Huck – how many kids do you know of that hurry home from school with plans of rushing down to the creek in search of bullheads?! Nope, kids nowadays have a very limited number of ways that they’re willing to spend their free time – either by a) hanging out with friends and complete strangers, or b) chatting with friends and complete strangers over the Internet because their parents won’t let them out of the house to do it in person…and rightly so, because just between you and me – there are some really creepy folks on the Internet these days! But that’s another column altogether…

Fortunately for my social skills, as meek as they may be, the Internet wasn’t truly a big deal yet when I was growing up, so hanging out was really my only option. This didn’t bother my parents in the least, as it usually just entailed gathering at one of my friend’s houses and playing video games or Dungeons and Dragons or whatever the geekiest thing in the world happened to be at the time – as long as I was home by 10:00pm, I was free to recite powerful spells and worship the devil and do all of those other things that the stereotypes suggested, and even a few others that they had never thought of! If nothing else, at least it prepared me for a few years down the road when I started a rock ‘n roll band, and then all hell broke loose… (we now collectively refer to these times as the good old days)

So while my friends and I chose to pass the time by being humongous nerds, other classmates of ours had their own ways of passing the time, whether it be by playing sports, working after-school jobs, or dry-humping on their parents’ loveseats – everyone had something to do! Times do change, however, and whether or not all of the Magic cards and basketballs and loveseats have simply disappeared at mysteriously high rates or because of some other, even more bizarre reason that my own creative forces can’t even come up with this late at night, kids today are finding themselves with just skads of free time on their hands – so much so that they’re pouring out onto the streets in troves, kind of like that mutant slime did in Ghostbusters 2, only with spiked hair and more piercings than the four members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers combined!

“They’re just hanging out with their friends – like you used to,” I’m told by their few and far-between supporters. I beg to differ, however – for starters, we didn’t have piercings to show our individuality, we had pocket protectors, and we didn’t hang out in parking lots so much as actual buildings – so while our activities could be considered hanging out, the new age version is more along the lines of loitering. Sure, it might be cool if the whole gang was just really into Rite Aid’s product line (their cotton swabs in particular are to die for…) and felt the need to share their love with new and potential customers as they drive by on Main Street, but I’m thinkin’ that this just isn’t the case…

Although the situation can be most noticeable during the summer vacation months, where it’s not at all uncommon to find many of the larger parking lots along the main strip completely packed with teens out for a night on the lot, to the point where there’s actually a waiting list leading out into the road, what caught my attention even more was the gathering I saw just the other night – keep in mind that this is Northern Michigan in the middle of January. Pulling up to a red light sometime between nine and ten o’clock at night, I looked over to see the parking lot of a local fish ‘n chips restaurant overflowing with cars…and no, their food isn’t just that good! There must’ve been two or three dozen kids huddled together in the lot, their pants halfway around their ankles and a steady stream of smoke coming from the center of the circle. The light turned green before I could tell exactly what kind of smoke it was, but…

Oh yeah, did I mention the temperature by chance?! It was seven. That’s right, just seven – Fahrenheit, of course, for all of you Nazis who somehow still manage to think that your metric system has a chance. The best visualization I’ve ever heard was passed on to me by another comedian whose name I cannot currently recall – around freezing (thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit), you can start to see your breath, but you know it’s really cold here in Michigan because you can both see your breath and hear it as it crashes to the ground! Here it is so blastin’ cold that the stars won’t even come out, and yet these kids are hanging out in the parking lot like it’s the 4^th of July! Now that’s dedication if I ever saw it! (or stupidity…the two tend to get confused a lot these days…)

Who knows, though – maybe they’re actually on to something and we’re just too big a wussies to go outside and see what all of the fuss is about. For all we know, they could have the knowledge of a lifetime brewing out there, like ‘Spending three hours a day, four nights a week in sub-zero temperatures will add ten years to your life…’ or ‘True happiness can be found for only 99 cents from the Burger King drive-through late at night, as long as Dave’s working…’ or even ‘A strict diet of marijuana and cigarettes maintained will convince your brain that the real cold weather doesn’t even start until it get into the negative numbers…’ I don’t know exactly what’s going on out there, but nonetheless it seems to be enough to keep the chicks coming in by the carload, which is more than we could ever say about our all-night Dungeons and Dragons sessions!

They say that you never have to grow old if you don’t want to? Well in that case, if anyone needs me, I’ll be out chillin’ in the parking lot…literally!

This is a very special time for me. A time that can be chaotic and completely insane or wonderously full of joy and splendor, depending on how long it takes the valium to kick in. For the most part, I think it might be safe to say that out of all the winter holiday periods, this one right now would have to be my favorite…except for a couple brief points here and there.

Allow me to explain… Christmas is obviously very stressful for many of us, having to deal with our relatives and other folk who we normally don’t see but twice a year, and while immersed in this stress-laden environment, sometimes we may tend to overlook certain concepts and details that would otherwise knock us off our feet in disgust during any other time of year. As a writer, I’m fortunate enough to be free and clear of the whole gift-giving ideology because everyone knows that we tend to fall a step below the poverty-line, so I’ve got a bit of free time on my hands during the day…just enough time to compile a list, such as the one below, of some things that we all might keep in the back of our minds this holiday season…

• If anything can turn your average, dysfunctional holiday around, it’s a plate of freshly-baked Christmas cookies…works EVERY time.
• Unless you hate me, please refrain from getting me socks or underwear for Christmas…or anything else practical, for that matter!
• Quick Tip – Guy Gifts: the awesomeness of the gift is directly proportional to the amount of flashing lights and buttons it has, divided by the time it’s going to take us to put it together. (extra points for every language over three that’s present in the instruction manual)
• Quick Tip – Gal Gifts: anything that’s furry, fluffy or smells like fruit is going to bring a smile to her face, and that just might very well be worth the death-defying trip into your local Bed, Bath and Beyond…
• While Christmas cookies aren’t a substitute for getting me a crappy gift, they do act as a great supplement to help ease the pain… (pay attention – more goodies this year!!!)
• I’m no more of a dumbass than you are for putting my holiday shopping off until the last minute, so quit complaining and just tell me which aisle you found the damn Furbees in.
• If you just happen to run into Santa (or one of his helpers) in the pub while Christmas shopping at the mall, instead of giving him a lecture about drinking while working with children, put yourself in his boots for a minute and just buy the man a round – it’s really the least you can do!
• Take it from a guy who’s been there – if you can’t operate your garage door opener while the Christmas lights are on, you may need to re-think your electrical scheme…
• Skeptics (such as your family/friends/significant other) may tell you that your holiday decorations are getting out of hand, or that you’re not going to be able to afford the electric bill next month, or that the lights are blinding them as they’re trying to pull into the garage. They are nothing but jealous fools who don’t truly understand the meaning of Christmas…unless they’ve got a plate of cookies waiting for you when you finally come inside – then and only then is there still hope of them coming around.
• I like to consider myself a fairly charitable guy – I never turn down the kids with their school fundraisers, I make sure to grab a few extra toys for the drop box when I’m shopping, and somehow I always end up finding a whole handful of checks that have been written to various organizations by the end of the year, so if I may make but one request: CAN WE PLEASE LAY OFF WITH THE BELL-RINGERS OUTSIDE EVERY SINGLE FREAKIN’ STORE I SHOP AT ALREADY?!
• Holiday parties are often awkward and unpleasant, and no doubt between work, friends and your significant other, you’re pretty well booked for the next several weeks, but all is not lost…yet. Just remember that there’s no gathering that can take you down when you’ve got a conference table full of Christmas cookies and an open bar on your side…
• No matter how good you feel at the time, it’s never a good idea to ask the boss’s wife to dance at the company Christmas party. She may seem, well, hotter and easier than usual at the time, but when everyone finally sobers up, she’ll come to her senses, he’ll still be your boss and nothing helps a hangover like your boss screaming at you for three hours the next day…
• It’s just a general rule that the larger the vehicle barreling down the road is, the worse of an idea it is to pull out in front of it…
• When I drive down your street and you happen to be snow-blowing your driveway, it’s polite to stop for a second and let me pass if you’re facing the road. You’d be amazed how a rock through the windshield can really ruin a man’s holiday spirit…
• No matter how much of a hurry you’re in, if it snowed pretty hard the night before, make at least some effort to clean out the driveway before you attempt to pull your car out of the garage. It’s always deeper than it really looks and if you can’t get to the mailbox without a shovel, neither can your Festiva. Just trust me on this one!
• Personally I’ve never done it, but I’m sure that snowmobiling is an absolute riot…at least it sure sounds like it is for you and your drunken buddies who choose to zip down my street at three in the morning at 80 mph night after night. Although snowmobiles aren’t allowed within the city limits, neither are shotguns, so you do the math…
• Freeway Rule #1: If you see lights in the distance, slow down. If you see large amounts of traffic in the distance, slow down. If you can’t see the distance, SLOW DOWN!!! Being part of a 150-car pile-up sucks.
• Slow the HELL down!!! They call it black ice because YOU CAN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN IT AND BARE PAVEMENT – if it’s cold, it’s probably there…
• When you’re standing on the side of the freeway, staring down at your brand-new truck and snowmobile trailer upside-down in the ditch, don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. (See above.)
• But trust me on the Christmas cookies…

It never fails. Every single time as my deadline approaches, I sit around wondering what in the world I’m going to write about for my next column, but this time I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been blessed…well, sort of. It’s an old favorite that I’ve been meaning to touch on again here eventually, and after some of the e-mails I’ve been getting lately, I think that now is just a good of time as ever…

I speak, of course, about porno – the sweet essence of joy and happiness that it is. I’m not going to sit here and argue with anybody about the pros and cons concerning such adult material, but let’s face it: it makes people feel good and isn’t that what life is all about, anyways? While some like to spend their free time running the bases at the neighborhood baseball diamond, there are those of us who, well, would rather be rounding a different set of bases…if you know what I mean! Unfortunately, as I’m sure so many of us have often encountered, it can sometimes be difficult to (how can I put this nicely?) find another “team” to play with. I can tell you right now, though, that this is no longer a situation to worry about because pornography’s got your back! Batter up!

I’ll pause for a brief moment while those still confused by the previous analogy leave the room…

Luckily in this day and age of independent living and, consequently, perpetual loneliness, adult material has slithered its way into the mainstream and, thanks to my favorite invention since sliced bread – the Internet (Al Gore is a genius…), the same things that used to cost us $6.95 a pop down at the newsstand are now available on our computers 24 hours a day, seven days a week! Oh yeah, and did I mention that it’s all free?!?!?!? Well, not all of it’s free, but really, nudity is nudity, right? No-cost smut is better than nothing at all? That’s what I used to think…

We all get them in our inboxes every day – unsolicited messages, or SPAM. Some receive more than others, always ranging from a wide array of topics, including the lowest prices for printer refill kits, university diplomas (soon you can simply call me doctor…), and 1,001 easy ways to make millions using eBay. Fortunately, my e-mail address is plastered all over the Internet like those phone numbers in a public restroom, so I seem to get more of this crap than your average Hotmail user. The above mentioned are usually fairly easy to avoid, as I can typically tell that they’re garbage simply by reading the titles, but with these adult websites using their clever, new mass-mailing techniques to attract visitors nowadays, more often than not I actually find myself having to open and read their mail before knowing whether or not it’s SPAM. Honestly, wouldn’t you have to think twice before deleting messages like these?

• When will I see you again?
• I’ve been looking all over for you!
• Remember me? We went to high school together…
• I need your advice.
• Live Teen Porn Tryouts!

As you can see, it’s quite the predicament I’m in; it’s pretty bad when you need a full-time secretary just to sort through your porno advertisements, isn’t it? Nah, I think I’d rather do that job myself and perhaps hire somebody else to do other mundane tasks for me, such as writing these weekly columns! Besides, if I didn’t get to go through my e-mail personally, I’d miss out some of the funniest creative advertising I’ve ever seen, which is actually what this column is eventually going to be about if I ever get around to it…

I agree that it is kind of sad, but I think some of the best advertisements I’ve ever seen have been for adult services on the Internet. Granted television has had its moments – the Super Bowl in particular – but nothing can compare to the e-mail I have here in my hand. It was so good that I had to print it out for the archives, or at least as proof to show that this kind of marketing does actually exist! The site in question, and I really don’t recommend this for the kids, was called Smut Farm (I’m sure you can figure out the address if it’s really all that important to you…). The ad was obviously presenting some seriously obscene situations, but their centerpiece just blew my mind. Smack dab in the middle of their promotional flyer was a picture of Osama bin Laden having sex with a donkey.

Yes, you read that right…nothing but the best from Smut Farm. Now I knew right off the bat that this had to be a doctored picture because, well, a donkey would never have sex with Osama bin Laden, but hidden deep below the surface there was real marketing genius going on here. Think about it – the majority of the world hates Osama right now and the majority of the world loves pornography. Put the two together and BAM!!! you’ve got yourself a winning combination right there! Come for the “Osama Does the Metropolitan Zoo” image series and stay for those pictures of the farmer’s daughter that you know you want…I’m sold!

If I’ve portrayed only one message throughout this column, I wish somebody would write and clue me in because even I’m lost at this point! The bottom line, though, can (hopefully) be summed up like this:

• Pornography – GOOD
• Unsolicited e-mail trying to sell me foolish products – BAD
• Unsolicited e-mail, yet somehow quite humorous – GOOD (up to a point!)
• Osama bin Laden – BAD

I think it’s time to stop hating the wrong things here, people! Have a safe and happy Memorial Day!!!

Production Notes:

Other Related Sites You May Find of Some Interest…

• Felicity’s Fun on the Farm
• A Man and His Sow
• Real Milkmaids Gone WILD!!!
• National Geographic magazine

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