A Christmas gift list. You've seen it before, and oh my friend, you will see it again. It's like nutmeg to a columnist. A staple kept in the cupboard and pulled out once a year only when necessary. I know. Its a lame lob. Nothing more than a sculpted puff piece wherein we honor folks who spent the previous year thrusting themselves into our consciousness with little or no prior agreement on our part. Listening to their publicists you might be led to believe they are fragile and superior creatures requiring major maintenance to produce, but what they desire and what they deserve are often two different things, and my specialty is the latter. So, carrying on a beloved holiday tradition set way back in the post election frenzy of 1948 and, let's not forget, taking advantage of the post Xmas sales, allow me to belatedly offer up:

The annual Will Durst XMA$ WI$H LI$T, VER$ION 2002

For Trent Lott: A congressional investigation to determine if the trap set by his enemies was masterminded by the American Medical Association in a devious plot to keep Strom Thurmond alive to 100.
For Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas: Another slam dunk like cross burning where he can establish his African American credentials.
For George W Bush: A coupon entitling him to an entire semester of tutelage by a freshman high school English teacher. With two weeks' emphasis on how to pronounce the word "nuclear."
For Eminem: Another movie role in which he can project brooding sensitivity since he apparently has the comedic range of an end table.
For Al Gore: A catastrophic disease to hit Hillary Clinton clearing the Democratic field for 2008.
For Jennifer Lopez: Matt Damon's head on a pike.
For North Korea: A nuclear bomb delivery system more efficient than the current program which features musk oxen.
For Michael Jackson: To rebuild his nose, 14 ounces of Star Jones' butt. Its a win- win situation.
For the Vatican: A puff of white smoke.
For James Gandolfini: In 5th and supposedly last season of "Sopranos," more dream sequences for Tony Soprano with former dead mistress Annabella Sciora.
For Hillary Clinton: A catastrophic disease to hit Al Gore clearing the Democratic field for 2008.
For Senate Majority leader Dr. Bill Frist: The delay of any race related legislation for at least 18 months.
For the American people: The delay of any legislation for 18 months.
For Saddam Hussein: A close friend with an unoccupied condo in the South of France.
For Osama bin Laden: From Sharper Image, a solar powered dialysis machine.
For Venezuela President Chavez: A close friend with an unoccupied condo in Tierra del Fuego.
For All Hummer 2 Drivers: A wave of sunspot activity causing such massive magnetic polarity they smash into each other. Really fast. And fall off cliffs. Exploding.
For Governor Gray Davis: A close friend with an unoccupied condo on Catalina.
For former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay: the phone numbers of Chavez, Hussein and Davis in case they want to vacation at one of his four remaining homes in Aspen.
For UN Chief Weapons Inspector Hans Blix: X- Ray glasses and the will to put them on.

Poor Trent Lott. Those damn Democrats are laying into him like a pack of hopped up Chihuahas on a stray Snausage snack simply for saying out loud what he's obviously fervently believed for 54 years. That America would be way better off if Strom Thurmond's Presidential bid on the Anti Segregationist Dixiecrat Ticket had been successful.

Of course, it wasn't until about 7 days later the Asleep At The Wheel Party realized Lott had semantically argued segregation was good, and the crap hit the fan, so he apologized four times. Had to. Nobody could understand the first three because they were muffled by his hood. "What are you talking about, I like black people, how much for that one? No, not the uppity one. That shuffler there."

But this was serious. So serious, Bush was forced to weigh in: "There's no room in the Republican Party for racists." Gosh, I knew there were a lot of them, I didn't think all the slots were full. Must be an affirmative action program. Go to J.C. Watts' office, and take a number. Lott's defense was he was just trying to make an elderly gentleman feel good. Who knew Jefferson Davis was still alive?

Then the Trentster back-tracked saying it was a mistake of the mouth not of the heart. What Does That Mean? It's like saying a turtle's failure to fly was a mistake of the head not of the wings. See, because a turtle doesn't have wings never mind. And you know, his people got to be begging George the Deuce's people for some wee assistance. "C'mon Dubyah, help me out here. Can't you toss a couple artillery shells into Baghdad. You're the master at diversion. Nothing big, just a couple of Tomahawks is all I need." "Sorry Trent; love to do it, but I'm saving the big one for my re- election. Heh heh heh. You're on your own buddy."

The good news for Trent is, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. The bad news is, all the light is being produced by flames coming from a burning cross. Which apparently even Clarence Thomas thinks is bad. All-right, Clarence. And if this alll weren't enough,last night, Trent appeared on a one-hour interview on Black Entertainment Television. Hasn't he punished these people enough?

In other news, Saddam apologized to Kuwait. He's sorry for that whole invasion thing. Destined to be an apology even less effective than Lott's. And in the spirit of screwing up big time, Henry Kissinger quit his post as head of the 9-11 investigative committee citing a conflict of interest. Well of course there was a conflict of interest, he was supposed to head up a FACT FINDING COMMISSION. He has no experience in that. A FACT QUASHING COMMISSION, now that he's qualified for.

A group of outspoken critics of the Clinton administration, (and aren't those pesky Clinton Critics the persistent ones,) have announced their intention to open their own version of a Little Rock Presidential Library honoring, or shall we say dishonoring, the 42nd Commander-In-Chief. Included in the plans are rooms such as The Hillary Hall of Shame, Pardons for Dollars and The National Insecurity Hall. Other displays promise to focus on Travelgate, the Lincoln Bedroom rentals and if a blue knit dress from the Gap doesn't make an appearance, each and every one of you will receive a buck in the mail from me.

In a statement obviously designed to be read with increasing stridency, Richard Erickson, a Houston businessman and one of the partners behind the "Counter Clinton Library," claims "this isn't a personal vendetta against Clinton at all. It's not to hurt anybody. It's to enlighten them. What we want to do here is Tell The Truth about What They Did in the White House and Their Whole Public Careers, and Try To Defuse Them, and STOP HER FROM BEING PRESIDENT IN SIX YEARS." I assume it's all a cute little hoax, but then again, I hope not. Because this incredibly arrogant, dare I say moronic, move puts all the other Presidential Libraires in play. From which a lot of money could be made.

The Reverse John Fitzgerald Kennedy Library.

• The Marilyn Monroe Spanking Closet. Which I don't think needs a lot of explanation. Let's just say it also sports the Bad Back Hanging Hammock.
• Tape Room. Listen in on the secret Kennedy- Hoffa Tapes, which features 22 hours of Jimmy and Bobby calling each other doo- doo heads.

The Contrarian Lyndon Baines Johnson Library.

• The White Trash Room. Compete with friends to see who can lift the virtual dog higher by its ears then show your belly scar when you win.
• Civil Rights Hall of Name. Have fun listening to years of examples of LBJ mispronouncing the word "Negro."

The Richard Nixon Anti- Library.

• The Uber- Stretch Room. A hands- on exhibit where the visitor attempts to imitate the gymnastics of Rosemary Woods accidentally erasing 18 1/2 minutes of tape.
• Whack- A- Kissinger. Laugh riotously as Henry unexpectedly pops in and out of different diplomatic holes and you pound him.

Not The Gerald Ford Library.

• National Nightmare Treadmill. Where YOU will walk, chew gum and attempt to write the speech that pardons Nixon all at the same time.
• WIN Room. Receive a free replica WIN button. WIN stands for "Whip Inflation Now." Or with a little rotating, "No Immediate Miracles."

The Library Where Miss Lillian Wouldn't Tread.

• Terror Boat. Take a dark ride on the same boat in which Jimmy Carter encountered a killer rabbit.
• The Billy Carter History of Overall Stains. Self-explanatory.

The Library Ronald Reagan Forgot.

• Are The Stars Out Tonight Room. Check the wall chart to see if today is a good day to sign important legislation according to Nancy Reagan's official astrologer.
• Beat The Press. A game show where you explain HOW ketchup is a vegetable and WHY trees cause pollution, then forget the name of your Secretary of Interior and still maintain a popularity rating over 65%.

The George Herbert Walker Bush Memorial Bookshelf.

• Spend time in the Virtual Store and confuse George Bush with groceries.
• An animatronic diorama where YOU get to throw up on the Japanese Prime Minister.

And then there's Dubyah. My future's so bright, I got to wear shades

Here's my theory.
Nothing changes. Yep, that's it. The whole damn concept in a nutshell. And isn't that terrific? A scoshe more than 15,000 days on the planet and the best I can come up is: nothing really changes. Oh, sure, they tell us it does change and a few of us may think we see changes but they and we are both as wrong as ballpark sushi. And no, that's not new, that's stupid. Yeah, sure, the West Coast Offense has replaced the Lombardi Sweep, but at the end of the day, doesn't it all come down to ball control? You see my point. But, did you see this? Did you? George W Bush Jr, selected Henry Kissinger to head the commission designed to investigate possible US intelligence leakages leading to the Al Qaeda attacks on September 11th, 2001. Yes, that Henry Kissinger! You remember: Nixon's brain. Mr. "Don't Be A Wimp, Mr. President, Bomb 'Em."

I heard about the appointment on the car radio and my head immediately popped off. It started ricocheting off the dashboard and the headrests and I finally had to pull over to retrieve it when it got wedged between that shelf behind the backseat and the rear windshield. I hid behind a tree so people would stop pointing and beeping. I think it might have had something to do with my head turning bright BLUE and smoke coming from my ears like the tailpipe of a 74 Vega with a blown headgasket. And you know how people get when they see blue disembodied heads blowing smoke out their ears maniacally rebounding around rented Chevy Malibus. Especially these days. They get a little I don't know, what would you call it, leery?

Here's my point.
They think we're idiots. First Bush softens us up with some tired old GOP retreads named Rumsfeld and Cheney: old Nixon and Ford buddies. And now he brings in Dr. Strangelove for a sequel. The Republicans must think the US government is one big game of volleyball. Every time its their turn to serve, they yell "Rotate," and a bunch of old white guys shuffle into new positions.

I just want to clear up one eensy teensy tiny minor matter here. Exactly how stupid does Bush think we are? Wait a minute, don't answer that. I don't want to know. I'll admit, I don't know much, but one of the few things I am barely cognizant of is when you're trying to shed light on a possible conspiracy, you DON'T PUT HENRY KISSINGER IN CHARGE. You might as well designate Osama bin Laden as events co- ordinator for National Organization of Women. Name Julia Child as Coach of the 2004 US Olympic Basketball Team. Make Chris Matthews the keynote speaker at the International Whispering Tournament. There's more, but you get my drift.

Giving thanks. As Martha Stewart might say if she didn't have half of Wall Street crawling up her butt, "it's a good thing." And it's about to spread all over this land like room temperature margarine on hot squash casserole with marshmallows on top. Its the key to the whole damn 4th Thursday of November deal. A time-worn custom declaring the man brandishing the serrated knife is not allowed to roam within a room of that aromatic bird-filled platter until he has prepared remarks pertaining to obligatory appreciation.

To not give thanks is downright un-American and probably outlawed by the Patriot Act if anybody could be bothered to read the damn thing. As a matter of fact, a whole hierarchy to the structured mumbles has been imprinted onto our cranberry stained genes. First you allude to those in attendance starting with the eldest, switching to the youngest and working your way haphazardly towards the middle. Then you cover your ass by including every family member you can think of, even some of the weird ones that haven't been invited recently due to their nasty habit of clandestine rummaging through purses and coats. And then everybody throws in their own personal favorites, and these are mine. Of course I'm a political comedian. Feel free to borrow.

9 Things Will Durst Is Sincerely Giving Thanks For This Year.

• Having Thanksgiving on the latest day possible. Which means only 27 days of annoying downhill electric razor racing animated Santas instead of 32 like last year.
• Young Female Bushes. Jenna, Barbie, Nicole. Too bad they're not young female Clintons, because then we'd get to hear them disparaged as sluts and whores on talk radio. Have you heard one word on how their actions reflect failed policies from the 60's? I thought not.
• Tony Blair. Because everyone needs a lackey to carry the heavy stuff. Even Dubyah.
• Tom DeLay. Wants to scuttle the "Innocence Protection Act" which would prevent premature destruction of DNA evidence in death penalty cases. Can't be mucking up a good hanging with some liberal bullcrap like innocence, now can we?
• Hootie Johnson. Chairman of the Augusta National Golf Club, a man who, through sheer force of will, is single handedly keeping the 18th century alive.
• Compassionate clear cutting.
• Semantics. Immediately after learning what the definition of the word 'is' is, we're about to receive a long lesson on what is and what isn't a Presidential Palace, and what is a weapon of mass destruction and what is a Quarter Pounder with Cheese.
• France. Just as the nails were being pounded into the socialist casket, the whole country shuts down due to labor strife. Vive la difference.
• The Pope. Still doesn't get it. Refuses to punish abusive priests. The ironic part is they're into it. "Who's been bad? I've been bad. Hey J2 P2, over here. Spank me with your jewelry and let me wear your funny hat." Spare the rod, spoil the cleric.

Love It Or Leave It: How 'Bout Both.

Alright, take your fingers away from covering your eyes and stop that sobbing. It's over. The 2002 election, that is. I don't know which was uglier. Bush's smug smile or staying up way too late watching the rest of the country scream at us to eat their dust as they squealed out with an incredibly hard right turn leaving the state of California sitting all by our lonesome as the last remaining residents of Liberalville.

It was de-evolution in action. Like-Cro Magnon Man dropping down to all fours and feverishly attempting to stick his tail back on. What you saw was a group of potential survivors vote themselves off the island of progress. We get to stay. Yes, yes, yes, I know, we're the real problem here. Not a single Republican voted into statewide office. We're the ones out of step with the rest of the nation. Out of Goose Step with the rest of the country.

So, why not step even further out. Just split. Leave the nest. 50-49 = 1. Face it, they don't like us. And we don't need them. We got the food. We got the wine country to wash it down with. We got the movies, the Disneyland, the Yosemite, the Death Valley, the Sierras, the otters, the Humboldt County. We could use a flag and some money, but otherwise, we're set.

If you ask me they need us a hell of a lot more than we need them. We miss anything bad enough, we simply replace it. New York? Couple more skyscrapers and Sacramento becomes a major metropolis. Only difference: folks smile and wear shorts. You want gambling? We build us our own Las Vegas located somewhere more conducive to human existence than a desert. What else: you want Chicago? Just dirty up Bakersfield a little.

Why not secede? (Wait, let's encode it so they don't know what we're talking about. C-Seed. Tell 'em it's a new insecticide.) Why not C-Seed? Bush won't stop us. It's not like he'd lose sleep canceling all those planned trips to northern California. Subtract our electoral votes from the equation and his re- election is more secure than cold spot welded door rivets in a glue factory. He could move back to Crawford and nap until November 2004. Let Dick and Condi attack whichever small defenseless country they want. Be easy to sneak the bill through Congress. Call it "USA Bill To Deny Democrats 54 Electoral Votes Every 4 Years."

Remember how the Feds laughingly flipped us off when the Texas energy corps held us down and gang mugged us for more than $20 billion. You really looking forward to 2-6 more years of that? Of California women worrying themselves sick every time a Supreme Court Justice coughs wondering if this is the end of Roe vs. Wade? Of Ashcroft's stormtroopers contradicting the will of our people by knocking over wheel chairs to confiscate a couple ounces of herb? Bush wants regime change so bad, I got his regime change right here.

With the fifth largest economy in the world we get instant credibility. No disrespect, but this isn't like Alabama or Iowa going solo. Probably rack up new immigration applications like we were giving away free beer at a frat party. You want commitment to environmental protection, education reform, and a woman's right to choose, Californy is the place you ought to be. So they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly. It's a win win. We got a lot going for us. And here's just a couple more examples.

10 Most Bitchin' Reasons California Becoming Its Own Country Would Be So Cool.

10. Four words: Vice President Nancy Pelosi.
  
9. State and local legislatures already extremely comfortable setting foreign policy.
   
8. Our own armed services. Eastwood, Schwarzenegger, Stallone or Willis in charge?
  
7. Opening weekend foreign distribution movie figures go way up.
  
6. You want a war. I got a war for you. We invade Florida for orange juice supremacy. Then take on Wisconsin for that whole cheese deal. Then France. For the wine? No, for the hell of it. Because now it's in our blood.
  
5. Our own intelligence agency. Imagine the allure of a posting to one of our undercover cells in Reno.
  
4. Can extradite and convict Enron CEO, Richard Lay, at our own war crimes tribunal.
  
3. We charge a fee on every foreigner trying out as a contestant on "Wheel of Fortune." Call it a stupid tax.
  
2. Bechtel (a California based concern) builds a Great Wall right down the middle of Lake Tahoe. Screw the corner. Straight line. North to south.
  
1. We outlaw Fox News as a foreign propaganda tool.

A couple of Washington Post reporters have called this the "Seinfeld" election because it's supposedly about nothing. But if you've spent any time listening to the radio or watching television, you're probably convinced this is the "Newman" election because of its overwhelming petty venality. Now normally when I hear somebody talk about how they're not going to vote, its a struggle to keep from slapping them silly and I need to be held physically restrained all the while screaming how they and their kind don't deserve Democracy and should be forced to sleep on the floor of some hut in a country where voting is a distant dream and not the tortuous chore it has become here.

But this year I wonder how any sane person could vote for any of these liquid squeezebags. If you believe one tenth of the ads, you'd have to assume every politician running is a cretinous fool toad asswipe lizardstick, when we all know that's just the two guys running for governor in California. You know the drill: it starts with a black and white still shot of the opposition candidate caught with a weird drooling expression on his face and his eyes half open, and an uber authoritarian voice-over sadly intones the long list of his sins.

"It's so sad. Bob Johnson says he's the candidate that represents the people. But does he represent you? Did you know Bob Johnson would rather raise your taxes than spend time with his own children.

Bob Johnson not only supports dumping toxic waste into the bay, late at night, he does it himself.

When Bob Johnson returned a VHS copy of "Dude, Where's My Car?" he didn't rewind it.

Bob Johnson once voted to put a hazardous meat plant right next to an emergency animal hospital.

Bob Johnson thinks women who are barefoot and pregnant have too much time on their hands to think dirty thoughts.

Bob Johnson once was a roommate with a man who became a serial restaurant tip skipper and admitted he learned everything he knew from Bob Johnson.

Bob Johnson not only kicks puppies, he is the founder of APKA, the American Puppy Kickers Association.

Bob Johnson has made it easier for hardened criminals to acquire weapons and harder for pre school kids to purchase ice cream.

So wrong in so many ways, call Bob Johnson and tell him to stop kicking puppies AND that he doesn't represent you. Paid for by the Bob Johnson Sucks Committee."

The Chimera Project.
It seems the Democrats might have accidentally hit on a perfect strategy to retain control of the Senate. Which is about the only way one could imagine them hitting on a perfect strategy: by accident. The scheme in question is to replace big honking loser candidates with winners from a bygone era who happen to possess higher name recognition, and the commensurately larger likelihood of winning.

It started innocently enough a month ago, when New Jersey incumbent Senator Torrecelli dropped out under what you call your HUGE IMMENSE PARTY PRESSURE and the Dems successfully conned a 78 year old sack of tired bones named Lautenberg to run in his stead. Good timing, since Torrecelli was about as popular as a flatulent musk ox with bleeding hooves at a kindergarten slumber party.

Then, last week, Paul Wellstone tragically dies in a plane accident, and before the body is cold the Democrats reach into their bag of ancient tricks and come up with one of the antediluvian dinosaurs in the Museum of Political History by the name of Walter Mondale. Yes, 74-year-old Fritz. The very same Walter Mondale who lost the Presidency by the narrow margin of 48 states to 2 (plus the District of Colombia) when he ran against Reagan in 1984. So why him now? Two reasons, 1: he's ambulatory and 2: because Minnesota was one of the two states he won in 1984. Well, hell, boys, I think you might be onto a new political tact here, why stop now? There's some other close Senate races where a little imagination might be called for. Let me channel the ghost of Lee Atwater and see what can be done.

NORTH CAROLINA: Featuring a dead heat between Elizabeth Dole (R) and former Clinton Chief of Staff Erskine Bowles (D) for the seat being vacated by Jesse Helms. No time for discretion. What you need to beat a Dole is someone with enormous name recognition like Jimmy Carter! Huge name, lives just a couple of states away. Recently won some big schtarker prize. Gets by the residency problem by claiming he's been secretly married to a stripper in a club out by the Raleigh airport. That'll pick up the Helms vote for sure. Besides, he can build his own house.

NEW HAMPSHIRE: Governor Jeanne Sheehan (D) is having minor problems with Son of Sununu (R), so here's the deal. She agrees to drop out and is replaced with a Granite State favorite. Someone who knows their way around the required "tax pledge." And that someone is Pawærouble" but seems to be making a comeback against Mark Pryor (D). Come on, its Arkansas! You know where I'm going with this. Now is the time for all good men to see Bill and Hillary Back Together Again. This time on the same side of the aisle.

TEXAS: Too close to let this opportunity fall away. A chance to steal the President's home state away. Are you kidding me? No time to keep the really big guns sheathed. Bye bye Ron Kirk (D). Hello Lyle Lovett.

MISSOURI: Jean Carnahan (D) is in a tight one with challenger Jim Talent (R). What's the biggest name in Missouri politics. No, not now. Ever. That's right. Harry Truman. Hey, it worked once.

To say I'm too close to the subject to be objective is like saying whole raw artichokes make lousy baby food, but this World Series deal they got going on right now is oh so perfect in oh so many ways. Of course I'm sure I'd feel the same way if the San Francisco Giants were facing the Toledo Mud Hens or even the West Chico Women's Slo- Pitch Seniors League Champs. More impeccable match ups. October baseball is the best baseball.

Nirvana, when the Giants are involved. And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. An all California series has the rest of the country so excited, small marsupials have taken early to hibernation in an effort to avoid the creepy echoing yawns rattling from the Atlantic all the way across to the Rockies. Tough. Poor Fox Television. I feel so bad the damn Yankees aren't in it again. Hey Steinbrenner, how much did you spend for Giambi? Heh heh heh.

I'm sure you scoff at my perfect matchup theory. Well, then, just look at the makeup of these two ultimate survivors in the baseball wars of 2002. Both of them, the wildest of wild cards, but only one destined to go home carrying the whole cheese chalupa with roasted garlic salsa. The last time the Angels won the whole thing was never. Let me repeat that—never.

In their 40 year existence, they've sucked on the same sour grapes of futility the Giants have since 1954. Which is 46 years more recent than when the Cubs last won. But we won't go there. Hey, Cub fans, six more years, and we're talking an entire century. Of course, the White Sox won it all in 1919. Back when they were known as the Black Sox. Hey, Chicago, wait till next year! Sorry. Terribly terribly terribly sorry.

This year's prospective Cinderellas come cut from cloth so different, one might suspect alternate planets. You got your pesky relentless hungry prepubescent white hulks from Southern California taking on the jaded laid back multi cultural crafty veterans of Northern California.

The only infield fly in the ointment has been the name change of the Anaheim Angels, formerly known as the California Angels. Now wouldn't that have been perfect exponential factor five pitting San Francisco versus California. Which is not a World Series but more of a way of life. Which is baseball. A way of life. And may the better team win. Which would mean the Giants will be the World Series Winner. I can live with that.

According to the October issue of the Archives of Pediatric and Adolescent Medicine, duct tape is a more effective, less painful alternative to liquid nitrogen for use as a wart remover. Let me repeat that; duct tape is a good wart remover. I doubt this will lead to giant grey rolls of duct tape in every American medicine cabinet unless one of the big drug companies decides to mix moisturizer in the glue, marketing it as "Skin So Soft as a Ducks Ass."

This stuff is amazing. Repairing shoes on camping trips, repairing canoes on camping trips, repairing the connection between the keg and the tapper on camping trips, this we've all heard. Fixing carbon dioxide filters on Apollo 13 for a safe return to Earth, yeah, we've been told that. But warts? How the hell did someone figure out to put duct tape on warts in the first place? Is there some guy just applying things to things? Concrete on stys? 10 W 40 on breakfast cereal. Banana daquiris on ringworm? Or was this one of those happy accidents like teflon, silly putty and Frank Lautenberg? And have these odd hard working researchers also experimented with duct tape on those pesky spotted leaking boils? Tumors? Varicose veins? West Nile Virus? Subdermal hematomas? Smallpox?

Wait a minute. Slow down. Does this mean basements in our colleges are filled to the brim with scientists huddled around bunsen burners ripping measured lengths of duct tape specifically for purpose of furthering the greater good of mankind through publishable research grants? Fine, groovy, way cool, let me, Citizen Durst, amateur protector of society as we know it, jump in and give it a shot. No matching grants involved, but what the hell, we do accept donations. Hey, as a public service, it's all deductible.

Other Previously Unknown Uses For Duct Tape

• When George W Bush gives another press conference to offer a different reason as to why we need to invade Iraq, you rip off a couple pieces of duct tape, crumple them up and plug your ears.
• In order to improve your financial situation, cover the opening in your mail box and receive no more bills.
• On this November 5th, all Californians should use one long strip of duct tape to blindfold themselves when faced with the choice for Governor between Bill Simon and Gray Davis.
• Turn to the business page and utilize the duct tape to blot out all the columns featuring your mutual fund investments.
• Cut out a piece of duct tape one inch by two inches and whenever Jerry Falwell appears on TV, cover his mouth and draw a silly mustache on it. That way he will look as ridiculous as he sounds.
• Make a shiny grey porkpie hat.

You got to love the president more than chilled champagne after an unexpected upgrade on a non-stop to Rome. He spoke to the nation the other day in yet one more attempt to explain for the umpteenth time why it is absolutely imperative that Congress signs over to him the unconditional authority to invade Iraq, and invade it right now dammit. But only if he wants to. If he decides to wait, which, who knows, he might that's got to be okay as well.

In the address, Bush spoke excruciatingly slow and haltingly precise in what I'm positive was an attempt to demonstrate how solemn and earnest he is, but I got to tell you, it looked less like executive gravitas and more like a methadone funk. Every time he paused for dramatic effect, I was afraid he was going to nod out on the podium and start drooling on the teleprompter.

And yeah, you could say his theme was familiar. You could also say the plots of "According to Jim" are thin. And Goya had some Catholic issues. At least the dialogue was user friendly: "Don't you folks get it already? Saddam Hussein is not a nice man. He's been bad, he is now bad, and in the future, he's not going to get good. He's just a bad man." No matter how you feel about Boy George, you've got to give it to him: he doesn't understand the meaning of the word "quit."

Although, I'm kind of guessing there might be a couple more words he's a mite unfamiliar with: like "nuclear," since he keeps pronouncing it "nukular," and to be perfectly honest, I'm not altogether certain he's clear on the concept of the definition of coalition. "Either you're with us or you're evil." That's not an invitation to start consolidating the building blocks of a coalition. That's the welcoming speech at a Chinese re-education camp.

And it’s not like there aren't other things to worry about these days such as THE ECONOMY, STUPID! There's a dockworkers strike, consumer confidence is lower than the ratings for "Push, Nevada" and every time he speaks, the Dow drops like an anvil in pudding. But it doesn't seem to matter. He's turned into President Rainman before our very eyes. "Mr. Bush, what do you think about the sniper attacks in Maryland?" "Iraq. Yeah, definitely Iraq. I'm an excellent invader. Ask my dad."

Three Democratic congressmen went over to Iraq to check out the situation in the country that controls the world's fifth largest army last week. You know, get the lay of the land before deciding whether we should pound that very land flatter than the head of a two year old beer absent-mindedly left in the kitchen cupboard above the stove during a Labor Day Barbecue. Now, these guys are admittedly anti-war nutcases. And I mean nutcases because they're flaunting conventional wisdom which is "Hey, you knuckleheads, the election is only four weeks away and you've announced you're opposed to the war. What are you, flaming nutcases?" And apparently the answer is a resounding "yes."

So, one of these three flaming nutcases, Congressmen Jim McDermott from Washington, tells reporters his little group has warned Saddam his only chance to avoid a war with the country that controls the worlds' largest army and are real close friends to a bunch of countries that control the next three and numbers six through ten was to allow total access by UN weapons inspectors. Then a bunch of other reporters ran right over to Senate Minority Leader Trent Lott, R- Miss. and snitched on him. Predictably, Lott went ballistic and railed about McDermott: "It’s time he came home and shut his mouth." And all the reporters snickered because their faith in Trent always flipping out like a wolverine in an elevated cage swinging over a yard full of three-legged sheep was justified once again.

"Shut your mouth." There you go, and isn't that exactly the kind of robust debate our Democracy is known for the world over? This is precisely the kind of political rhetoric that's going to inspire nations around the world that they want to be more like US. Because of our fluid command of third-grade reasoning. "No, you shut up." "No, you shut up." "No, you shut up." "No, you shut up." "No..." Well, you get the picture.

Next, Lott will announce that the reason every Republican member of Congress should vote for the President's resolution is, "Because I said so, that's why." And then we'll hit them with a, "I know you are, but what am I," before finally finishing with a brilliantly executed "I am rubber, you are glue: whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you." But that seems to be the overriding motive we're going to bomb Iraq. "Because I said so, that's why."

Frequently Asked Questions About Our Imminent Attack on Iraq.

• Q. The economy sucks, Bush is president and we're going to war with Iraq. This seems a bit of a familiar road, what?
• A. It's déja vu all over again. I think Sherman must have set the Wayback Machine to 1991. Hope this doesn't mean we'll also have to live through another whole spate of Pauly Shore star vehicles.
  
  
• Q. Why exactly are we poised to blow Baghdad to smithereens?
• A. Think of it as the old David Copperfield strategy. "Economy? What economy? Hey, look at that mean old alligator chowing down on that puppy kennel over there."
  
  
• Q. No, no, I mean, what is the administration's rationale for getting ready to blow Baghdad to smithereens?
• A. Oh, that. Hussein is piling up weapons of mass destruction. Big piles. Huge piles.
  
  
• Q. But aren't we planning to blow them to smithereens with weapons of mass destruction?
• A. Ah, but those are OUR weapons of mass destruction. Totally different. Night and day. Bruce and Gunther.
  
  
• Q. Okay, I'll bite. What's the difference between Hussein's weapons of mass destruction and our weapons of mass destruction?
• A. We give ours happy names. The Daisycutter. Bomb or garden tool? Hard to tell, right? The Peacekeeper. A multiple warhead hydrogen bomb called the Peacekeeper. Clever, hunh? We also refer to sledgehammers as finger massage utensils. It's not mustard gas, it's a really strong antihistamine.
  
  
• Q. How long has Saddam been guilty of stockpiling these weapons of mass destruction?
• A. Oh, about since 1980.
  
  
• Q. Wasn't he our good buddy back then?
• A. As a matter of fact, the weapons of mass destruction he used on Iran, he got from us. Which might be the hidden agenda here. We want them back.
  
  
• Q. If George W Bush is willing to take out Iraq for a lousy mid- term election, what's he going to do for crunch time in 2 years when he's up for re- election?
• A. Don't know. Maybe declare war on Canada. We'll should start hearing drumbeats about the Maple Leaf Menace pretty soon now. Playing the South Park Card. "Oh my God, they've killed Cheney. You bastards."
  
  
• Q. We say Iraq has nuclear weapons. What kind of delivery system would they use to hit us with them?
• A. Nobody knows. Ox- cart? Cow? No, that's Pakistan.
  
  
• Q. Bush gave a speech where he scolded the UN for being a bunch of pussies. How did this go down internationally?
• A. Not well. A German official likened the President's tactics to those of Hitler. That can't be good. Germany. Hitler. That's like Mike Tyson petitioning the court for a restraining order on your ass.
  
  
• Q. But you got to admit, we did liberate Afghanistan, right?
• A. Yeah, we made it safe for Britney Spears and Taco Bell. In the meantime, they assassinated their vice president and just missed offing the president. Now that you mention it, I guess they are getting the hang of this democracy thing.

You Can't Make Stuff Up Like This!

• Congress is preparing for a doomsday scenario. I guess that means in the event legislators are forced to underground bunkers, surrogates will be appointed to accept their bribes.
• Wonder what the evacuation policy is in the Bush White House: women and donors first?
• The Post Office has developed a plan to deliver the mail even after a nuclear war. Isn't that comforting: civilization is dead, you're fighting with dogs for food, but you still have a chance to win the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes.
• A federal court has okayed smoking pot for religious purposes on government land. Please feel free to refer to me in the future as Reverend Durst. I don't smoke, but I like the people who do. Is that weird?
• You know what would be weird? For Castro to discover oil just outside the gates of Guantanamo. That's what would be weird.
• A Stockton, California elementary school will be named after George W. Bush. Wonder if the valedictorian will be picked from a pool of C students?
• Martha Stewart looks like she might survive a Congressional Investigation. Too bad, I was really looking forward to the whole series in Martha Stewart's Living on how to fashion rags and scraps of toilet paper into a comfortable throw pillow for use on your stainless steel cot. And the proper way to sharpen a shank.
• A federal judge blasted John Ashcroft for arresting people before a crime has been committed. I blame Steven Speilberg. The man thinks he's Tom Cruise in "Minority Report."
• Amy Fisher is writing for a New York area newspaper and Pamela Anderson is now a regular columnist for Jane Magazine. I'm sure its all part of a career exchange program whereby qualified journalists are now gainfully employed as bimbos.
• Michael Jackson has accused Sony Record executives of being racist. Obviously he can relate to the plight of the young struggling African- American singer. At one point, early in his career, he was black too.
• Rumors persist merger negotiations are ongoing between the terrorist groups Hezbollah and Al Qaeda. Wonder what they're going to name the new organization: Enron?
• Legalized pot is expected to be approved by voters this November in Nevada. Gambling, prostitution and now drugs. All Vegas needs to be the perfect place to live is water.

So, the deal is, Bush the Two has run into a couple of eeensy teensy stumbling blocks trying to pawn off his new improved Iraqi invasion to any and or all appropriate buyers. The first is: nobody wants it. And the other: he's unable to explain exactly what it is he's selling. You can't say he isn't giving it the old college try though. Overnight he's been possessed by the spirit of a hyperactive insurance salesman wearing a bad plaid suit in a beat up Taurus with a telescoping clothes rack stretched across the back seat. Talking the ears off of anyone who wants to listen. Or doesn't. The other day he recited his skewed actuarial charts in front of a decidedly cool Congressional Leadership Caucus and now he's on his way to the biggest cold call of his life: the United Nations.

The big problem: it's a buyers market. And for quite possibly the first time in his life, this Texas boy's timing's off. See, back when Clinton was President, now, there was your sellers market mister. But now whew. Not that the economy isn't getting better. Of course it is. The Dow is I mean, the unemployment figures are, that is anyhow, trust us, it's getting better. It's darn near good. The reason? He can't tell us. It's not that he doesn't want to. He'd love to, but see, its a secret. Shhhh! Keeps telling people he knows something nobody else knows. Whatever it is, I think we can pretty much rule out math.

The old default argument isn't sticking: we have to strike pre-emptively to stop the stockpiling of weapons of mass destruction, because that logic leaves Delaware vulnerable to an air strike eliminating Dow Chemical as a threat. Of course it doesn't help every major ally of ours would rather import a couple of container cars of the West Nile Virus than throw in with us. George has so little support on this I wouldn't be surprised to find out the Barak isn't returning his calls. I doubt Laura's buying into it. "Jeez, I don't know George, don't you think this a little sudden?" Even the twins got to be wondering if this isn't a little reckless. And if all that weren't enough, Dad's former staff keeps going on TV muttering discouraging words. Very un- Home on the Range. Which, at the end of the day, has to be the most galling part since all he's trying to do is finish up one of Poppy's unfinished chores. "Top of the world, Dad, top of the world."

And now we join Donald Rumsfeld as he addresses the Senate justifying the administration's intransigent policy of preparing to attack Iraq. "So you got to be told why we need to invade Iraq, hunh? This is assuming my word isn't good enough for you, which is what you're trying to tell me, right? You specifically, Mister fancy big time New York monkey boy. Don't think I'm going to forget this. The rest of you agree with this greasy little runt? Well, okay then, I will tell you why we need to invade Iraq and invade it right now. Because of a guy named Saddam Hussein. Anybody heard of him? Well, you know how bad of a guy he was before? Well, now he's worse. Much worse. And he's not getting any better. I don't imagine any of you ladies remember that whole Kuwaiti invasion deal a couple years back? Consider that a tiny burp in the great meal of world conquest he's shaking his knife and fork at these days. How bout that cute little stunt where he used poison gas on his own people? A cigar butt in the meringue of a lemon tart left behind the lamp on the coffee table next to the fireplace of global terror he's just itching to light up. At any minute.

We don't know WHEN he's going to finish his diabolical experiments. We DO know he's stockpiling WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. How do we know that? Because he's always stockpiling WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. That's what he does. He's a born WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION stockpiler. Why do you think he won't let inspectors in? Yeah, I know, he recently invited arms inspections by UN experts. But not unconditional inspections. C'mon, its a trick. We all know its a trick. Why would he do it, if it wasn't a trick? He's got weapons we don't even know what the hell they do. You want that on your conscience? You want to wake up with your children suffering from unconventional weapons? And yeah, don't worry, our allies are going to support us. You want to know why our allies are going to support us? Because leadership in the right direction finds followers and supporters, that's why. And attacking Iraq is the right direction. All we propose here is a simple pre- emptive strike. Hit him before he hits us. And he's planning to hit us, people. You know, you whiny nay sayers are the same pansy asses responsible for letting Hitler run stupid in the 30s. That's what we got here people. Another Hitler. Only swarthier. And those are the reasons why we need to invade Iraq. Any questions? Aah, the heck with it. I am out of here."

They were waiting for him on the castle road with torches and pitchforks and burning bags of musk ox manure but Bush spoiled the photo op by wimping out and sending Colin Powell instead. The United Nations World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg that is. Which, when you think about it, is pretty smart sending a black guy to South Africa, but tough luck for all those hyped up folks at the Summit. Kind of like inviting your friends over to play "pin the tail on the donkey" and then the damn donkey doesn't show. Damn that damn donkey. This as we all know, is the second "Earth Summit." The first being held in Rio de Janiero ten years ago which George the One attended to his never ending regret.

See the deal is, everybody, and I mean everybody knows how these things are played out. You pack some swim trunks, your good formal vests and play nice. Pose for the right pictures, nod your head at the appropriate platitudes, mumble some canned banalities and in general promise to do stuff that you have no intention of even remembering on the¸iNeck." Then they don't. Europe, Japan and the US vow to cut down on greenhouse gas emissions. Then they don't. And who does everybody yell at? Right- US.

Mister Arrogant Super Power Bastard Ourself. Mister single passenger humongo SUV with the custom car adaptor for his Fry- Baby American. Its always us. The bad guys the world loves to point their famished little sooty fingers at for being chock full of fat lazy energy hogs responsible for sucking all the clean air out of the world while standing on the backs of emerging nations to carve a hole in the roof of the atmosphere. Why? Because, well, for the most part, it's true. But what pissed off George the One which means it goes without saying that it pisses off Team George the Two, is how the Lilliputians go out of their way to gang tackle us while the rest of the bad guys skate off into industrialized bliss with nary a sooty finger wagged at their skinny retreating butts. And, since the Bushman obviously rates world opinion right above armadillo urine cocktails, or maybe below, he's decided he doesn't even need to make the effort this time around. Which actually works out pretty well for everyone involved. America retains its "Favored Nations" status as world target #1 and the dauphine doesn't have to leave the safe confines of the Crawford ranch for another couple weeks. Ain't that America? Unfortunately, right about now, it is.

From the family ranch in Wyoming, Dick Cheney recently took a break from his vacation to video conference with a collection of Iraqi warlords in what essentially was an audition for the administration's designated opposition leader to Saddam Hussein. Seems like I've heard of this format before.

~Cue Theme Music~

Jim Lange: And now it's time to play The Figurehead Game. Let's meet your prospective employer. He's a former Cabinet member, a successful oilman, the present Vice President and no fan of microwave ovens, gentlemen, say hello to Dick Cheney.

Warlords #s 1, 2, 3. Hello Dick.

Jim Lange: Mr. Cheney, you know the rules, let's get started.

Cheney: Warlord #1. If we hooked up with your horde, what would be your first move to impress George W Bush?

Warlord # 1: I would bathe in the blood of Hussein and his Republican Guard.

Cheney: Yeah, okay. Warlord #2, same question.

Warlord # 2: In a cedar box with a velvet lining, I would present Mister Bush with the ears of Saddam Hussein and his entire family roped together in a necklace the President could wear at official functions.

Cheney: Nice visual. Warlord #3, how much do you hate Hussein?

Warlord # 3: I hate him very much. He has oppressed our people and caused great hardship for too long. And as a direct result of his policies children are starving.

Cheney: Really. Interesting. Warlord # 1, how much do you hate Saddam Hussein?

Warlord # 1: I want to bathe in his blood, what does that tell you? That I like him? No, it is the opposite, I hate Saddam Hussein.

Cheney: Yeah, but how much? Impress me.

Warlord # 1: So much, I get knots the size of stewed goatheads in my bowels whenever I think of him. Not only will I bathe in his blood, I also pledge to hang my beach towel on his intestines. Fill his knee caps with guacamole. Rip his mustache off and have local artisans weave it into an oil filter for my Mercedes.

Cheney: Excellent, that's the kind of initiative I'm looking for. I mean, we're looking for. Warlord # 2, what kind of government would you replace Hussein's tyrannical regime with?

Warlord # 2: I would succeed Hussein's oppressive rule with 10,000 years of peace and harmony where children would sing and flowers would grow.

Cheney: What kind of flowers?

Warlord # 2: Poppies.

Cheney: Wrong answer. Warlord # 3, how would you supplant the ruthless domination currently in charge?

Warlord # 3: I foresee a democratically elected group of citizens acting as the people's representatives according to their wishes. Much like your Congress.

Cheney: Loser.

Warlord #3: I meant your Supreme Court.

Cheney: Better. Warlord #1? Same question.

Warlord # 1: I'm a Warlord. I would rule like a Warlord. Excuse me, let me make that clearer, I would rule like a Warlord indebted to Mr. Bush and all his emissaries.

Cheney: I think I've made my decision.

Jim Lange: And who, Mr Cheney, do you choose as your dream Figurehead?

Cheney: The guy with the funny voice, Warlord #1.

Jim Lange: You picked feared Warlord and head of the opposition, Abu Al bin Hussein.

Cheney: We're going to have to talk about that.

Jim Lange: Let's see where you will be going. You will fly on Air Force Two to an undisclosed location for an indeterminate length of time for a secret meeting which everyone in the world will know about. That's it for us. Join us next week when Terry MacAuliffe auditions prospective Democratic Presidential candidates and doesn't tell Al Gore, in another edition of The Figurehead Game.

They actually arrested somebody. You believe this? The SEC conducted a semi real and supposedly genuine raid arresting a couple of Philadelphia father and son mooks who ran some cable outfit allegedly hiding 2 billion in expenses from investors. Now, don't get your dividends in a reverse split here, these obviously aren't your high priced corporate big time heavy weight political contributors. No, just some off brand white guys sans the political pressure to keep from being marched past the cameras handcuffed. If these had been real hard core connected schtarkers, we all know they would have been escorted through the basement and out the back loading dock into a waiting van where federal marshals would have handed them bottles of cold Icelandic spring water, with little crocheted hand booties to keep their fingers warm and dry. But these guys either pissed somebody off, are in the process of installation as national white collar crime scapegoats, or they spoke of the marshal's mother in a disparaging manner. The feds got to really have a hard- on not to throw you a coat to cover the handcuffs. I know, its summer. Not a lot of Burberrys available. But still. Paper towels. A beach ball. Let em carry a billowing philodendron. Something.

And how come the cameras were there? When do you ever get to see the guys walk through the glass doors all the way to the bubble top? Who called that in? The arrestees' lawyer? Let me think. No. Doubt that. That's the problem with the press. You can never figure out which information was spoon fed to them by ogres with a grudge or whether that primrose path they're leading you down was one they were brought to blindfolded. They want you to think they're just investigating muckraking fools and tracked down this bust through a series of astute analyses and fancy footwork, when probably the total extent of their exertion was picking up a phone. Call me cynical, but I just don't trust these showcase busts. Makes me want to find out more about the non showcase examples that went down previously. You know what I'm talking about. Enron and Worldcom. Mostly Enron. What the Vice Presidential knew and what he didn't know. And how come nobody's talking about that any more. Reminds me of what my magician friend is wont to say: "its all misdirection."

Well, that should do it. I hope this serves to teach you Doubting Thomases a lesson. You can only push a man like George W Bush around so far before he's forced to take drastic action. He's like a modern day Popeye. Taken all he can stands and he can't stands no more. Having quite had his fill of the scandalous conduct of the people who were the largest contributors to his campaign, George W marched himself down to Wall Street, the belly of his pet beast, and sat those sassy fat cats down, unleashing upon them a tongue lashing they will not soon forget. To reinforce his ruthless barrage, Dubyah spoke directly in front of a printed background hammering home his theme with the words "corporate responsibility" repeated over and over in a very respectable and easily read font.

Corporate executives seen afterwards at a black tie Republican Party fund raising reception were noticeably chastened. Their postures reflected mortification and shame caused by the President's words and precious little cavorting and almost none of the usual carousing were in evidence. Evidently they had taken the executive scolding to heart and you could see by the way the subdued dancing finished well before 4 am that Bush's verbal bloodletting had hit its mark. Further evidence of the success of this well deserved trip to the woodshed was immediately apparent during the following week.

Contrite over their obvious culpability, chastised CEO's all over the country slashed their salaries vowing publicly never again to engage in the simply boorish behavior that got them into this deep doo doo in the first place. Investors, relieved that credibility had been restored to the boardroom shot up the Dow in record buying. High-ranking Enron officials announced they are selling all their third and fourth houses and donating the proceeds to the company's tapped out pension fund. Congress closed the loophole that allowed corporate salaries to zoom to 500 times that of the average worker. Outspoken Ross Perot testifying before a California legislative committee candidly admitting a lead role in his company's egregious looting of the state's coffers during the artificially induced energy crisis of last year. For all this we must salute the courage and determination of a President bucking public opinion to take a stand against the very actions he and his administration have engaged in all their lives. And that's what I'm doing. Right now. Saluting him. With both hands. He's number one in my book. I'm using the long fingers so everyone can see.

99 - 0. That my friends is the final vote upon which our honorable US Senatorial Representatives came out in favor of the inclusion of the word "God" in the Pledge of Allegiance. 99 - 0. We can't get that kind of consensus on Clean Air. 99 - 0. Yep, and thanks to the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals (planted in the fertilest bowels of San Francisco's Hippie Dippie Valley, right next to the Commie Commune) the most dangerous place for small children this 4th of July was not on a picnic blanket sharing the same barge as a first time drunken one armed replacement fireworks shooter- offer, but on a parade route between a politician and the nearest flag. And those who failed to have themselves photographed wrapped in multiple folds of red white and blue cotton muslin were busy knocking down old folks and cripples in their rush for those choice aisle seats in the front pew. Any front pew. You know, where the zoom lenses can freeze the candid tear rolling halfway down the sincere cheek.

Its the equivalent of a political primer Trifecta: God, the Flag and the 4th of July. These aren't third rails, these are the generators that provide the power for the third rails. You don't get this one right, you might want to check into recent vacancies at various sheep insemination plants hereabouts. I have the craigslist's URL around here somewhere. People, don't get me wrong, I totally understand this is the first birthday of our country since (deep breath, whispered chant)the tragic events of September 11th, but for crum's sake, hey! Everybody quit twitching and settle down. We're in danger of drowning in a sea of knee jerk patriotism. Its shooting out of us like tri colored projectile vomit. We might need those colors someday, don't wear them out. You ever hear of the little boy who cried "Holy Shit?"

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You know what, the court was right. The word "God" has never had any business in the Pledge of Allegiance. It didn't rear its cheap sentimental head until the Red Scare of 54 and it should be banished to Jerry Falwell's pulpit faster than you can say "cheap political ploy in an election year, I'm shocked." Go ahead, swivel around all hunched over ferretlike and laser me tauntingly, "Well, excuse me Mr. Strict Constitutionalist, why don't we just take the word 'God' off our money and out of our court system as well then." Okay. Lets. Which part of the separation of Church and State do you people not understand? Grab your feel good jollie rocks from somewhere else and keep your grubby mitts out of my Constitutional cupboard. 99-0. Amazing. Like to see the Senate reach the same consensus on waking Jesse Helms by using a ceremonial gavel across the forehead.

What is it about Saddam Hussein that gets under the Bushes skin like sand in the waistband of a really snug thong? Maybe its because he's so obviously public school. Cocky and loud and not quite the sort one can really count on to whip off a few monogrammed thank you notes after a birthday soiree much less submit to the indomitable will of the United States. Dreadful lack of manners. And he's so darn swarthy. He just looks wet. Dresses like a taxi cab dispatcher. Hits on all the women. And the men. Be honest, would you trust this man to teach your niece how to play backgammon? I think not. I sincerely doubt he could pass the second interview for Kennebunkport compound security squad. Maybe some kitchen work. Or on beach detail pitchforking dead gulls into a bonfire. Perfect gig for a guy who resembles nothing more than a police sketch artist rendering of a child molester. "If you ask me, he should spend less time complaining and more time thanking his lucky stars he has a job."

Okay, maybe I don't know exactly why they don't like him, but I know they don't. George the One only left him alone because it was the sporting thing to do, don't you know. George the Two has busted his butt trying to get the rest of the world to have the same kind of gag reflex about the Bad Boy From Baghdad as he does. Only two minor problems: they're not buying it and it's not working. In an April interview, Dubyah said he had made up his mind that Saddam has to go. Go? Go where? Lubbock? Cyprus? To see the red haired bearded lady at the Texas State Fair? Not surprisingly, the shouts off the cliff have gone appallingly unechoed, so now it's time for Plan B, in which the President has put some dentures into his previous rhetoric by okaying covert action to topple Saddam with increased support to Iraqi opposition forces and utilizing CIA and Special Forces. Authorizing deadly force on Hussein ONLY if acting in self defense, of course (wink- wink, nudge- nudge.) Never mind the Mideast is a huge sea of crude, the contingency flares are still shooting around like firecrackers in an alley off a playground on Chinese New Year. If I were Saddam I'd bookmark the Gallup Poll website and as soon as Bush's approval rating starts to fall, the first thing I'd do is dig a bunker somewhere near hell. Or reopen the old one.

Okay, now let me get this straight. First, the Bush administration and yeah, I mean both George I and George II, says, "No, no, no. Global warming is just a weenie liberal myth. More fuzzy science. And any tree hugger who does believe in this global warming fairy tale is an Eco-Nazi out to destroy America's free market advantage and should be shipped on ice in a refrigerator car to Siberia so they can die with their commie loving comrades." Oil company scientists were hired to pooh-pooh serious science with contrary puff studies: "Global warming doesn't exist. As a matter of fact we think the exact opposite is true. Whatever that is. We're not quite sure, but whatever the reverse of global warming is, that's what's really going on." Yeah, they had scientists. Just like the tobacco companies had scientists. You got enough money, you can hire scientists to prove that peanut butter is the perfect grouting material for bathroom tile.

That constituted the Republican attitude for decades. Then last week they scooted around a United Nations corner with a required report mumbling behind their cupped hand, "Well maybe this whole global warming thing isn't so mocked up after all." Excuse me? The hell was that? Did you just suck up about thirty years worth of vitriol and we didn't get to watch you swallow? This is what drives me nuts. Screaming and vilifying and the pulling of opposition hair, and then, when it suits certain needs, or backs are suddenly up against the wall, it’s: "Oh by the way, we changed our mind. We weren't wrong. Simply time to move on." No apologies, no mea culpas, no kiss my ass, no nothing. And now, NOW, that Bush admitted that perhaps global warming does exist and may indeed be the handiwork of man himself, his advice to the industrial nations of the world is "we must adapt." Years of study, millions on research, and the reasoned advice of our leaders is "GET USED TO IT!" Like a guy neck deep in quicksand looking around and yelling to friends whose shoulders he's standing on; "Yeah, we can live like this. Hey, quit wriggling around down there."

The latest tripe being ground out of the ever-busy spinmeister factory is now that global warming exists, turns out, no worries, it's actually good for us. Forests will grow faster and summers will last longer. The eternal droughts and continental erosion and melting polar ice caps, that's what you call your collateral damage. Can't have an omelet without breaking a couple eggs. It's the bright side of global warming. Nova Scotia surf resorts. Home-grown bananas. You won't have to retire to Arizona, Arizona will come to you.

You Can't Make Stuff Up Like This:

The US government has released an advisory for all its citizens on or near the India- Pakistan border. I think it read: "Get Out! Now! GO. GO. GO. GO. GO. We're not kidding. Pack up your babies and grab your ladies and everyone go. You don't want to be here. Trust us. Does the term 'Hiroshima' have any meaning here?"

Ken Caminiti first said 50% of all major leaguers are using steroids. Now he said he was kidding, it’s only a couple. Former Enron CFO Jeffrey Skilling married another executive from Enron. Wonder if anybody was clever enough to give them his- and- her shredders.

Michael Jackson is investing in a Canadian motion picture company. He plans to make children's films...
Please choose from the following punchlines.

a. And then he's going to store the negatives in a vault.
b. For release on the Baby Spice channel.
c.

Bush put a shadow government into action. In case of attack on DC, their job is to keep the government running seamlessly by continuing to solicit bribes from corporate executives. That and to replace the rolls of red tape.

In response to the success of MTV's "The Osbornes", VH-1 has announced a similar series featuring Anna Nicole Smith in which I'm sure we'll find out much more about her than we need to know. Like, in her wallet she keeps a picture of her husband's wallet.

A panel of Federal judges struck down a law requiring public libraries to install Internet filters to block access to pornographic sites. Which means you can still use library computers to access the Catholic Church website.

The Rolling Stones have announced another tour this fall. Some traditions won't die: groupies still bring them drugs, but now there's a $10 co-pay.

LA has a new police chief who hopes to reverse the reputation of his police force. Yeah, he's going to take them from corrupt and brutal to brutal and corrupt.

Do you think Dick Cheney listed George W on his 1040 as a dependent?

Doctors now say its okay for first or second cousins to marry. Don't know if they yet have a name for an occurrence of this event. I respectfully nominate: Arkansasas Normalis.

Saddam Hussein turned 65 last month and in celebration brightly colored dissidents were hung all over Baghdad.

Ozzy Osbourne recently met George W Bush at the Washington Correspondent's Dinner. Actually, they're a lot alike. One is an incoherent former drug user whose wife is smarter than him by a factor of 7 and so is the other.

Fans in Seattle were lined up to see Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones since January 1. Long ago in a galaxy far far away, these people had a life.

"What did he know and when did he know it?" Don't you people understand? Just the merest hint of a whisper of a question like this asked of our brave stalwart Commander-in-Chief is unpatriotic. It weakens us and gives solace to the enemy. And it's not just the timing of the inquiry that's inappropriate. Its the very manner in which the question is being phrased. The exact same query Howard Baker posed of Nixon during a little thing called Watergate not quite a couple of lifetimes ago. And if there's one thing we Republicans don't need right now, it's references to the dark days of Tricky Dick. Not included on the GOP highlight reels if you know what I mean. Especially with so many of the same characters recycled into this administration. Besides, Nixon was a man who committed the most unpardonable of Republican sins: he got caught. So we are fighting back very loud and very immediately. And why? Because it's so darn apparent. The Democrats are trying to politicize September 11th! And this is no time for partisanship!

Partisanship is bad. A total anathema to the whole American philosophy. Whitewater? Well, that was an entirely different thing altogether. Same with Monica. Those were morally abhorrent deviant rifts the public had a Constitutional right to know about. But now the Democrats are trying to make political hay out of this horrible attack going so far as to question the ethics of selling a September 11th picture of the President to potential donors. A glorious four color photo of a pensive in-control Bush peering out the window of Air Force One ever vigilant for further attacks. A steal at the low low price of $149.95. Available now in a one-of-a-kind golden thirteen eagle frame. There they go again, that's politics. And like we said, this is no time for politics. This is a time for all of us to strip away our petty differences and stop pointing fingers. When we blamed Clinton for gutting our intelligence community and putting the nation at risk for an attack, that was simply the dissemination of vital information our country needs to operate so we are not duped into making a similar horrible mistake in the future. Their present claims that President Bush had information he didn't act on are tantamount to sedition. It is so obvious. What did he know? He didn't know anything. And when did he know it? Not until Dick Cheney told him he didn't know. There. I hope you're happy.

So, the deal is, Bill Clinton met with senior, did you catch that, Senior representatives from NBC to discuss the possibility of hosting a talk show.

We think. No one is really sure. Somebody somewhere said something to someone and I have no idea what kind of little tubular presentation he had in mind. Perhaps, as his people are a little too keen on intimating, it would indeed be an issues oriented town hall type sort of deal. You know: high-minded. First rate. Cream of the crop. The kind of thing where he could throw his Oxford vocabulary around in front of his fancy Paris Review guests.

Then again maybe he's wants to out Jerry-Springer Ricky-Lake in such a way that Fox News would pretend to be repulsed at, featuring teenage goat prostitution slave camps and lots of hot oil wrestling tournaments. At least he comes from the part of the country that knows how to talk to these kind of people. What kind of people am I talking about? Oh come on, let's not get coy. You know exactly what kind of people I'm talking about. People who claim they can't tell the difference between Miracle Whip and Mayonnaise. That kind of people. Personally, I envision him trying to do the former and ending up including elements of the latter. Kind of like the track he steered his administration down. So let me guess what some might be.

WILL DURST'S SAMPLES OF POSSIBLE SERIOUS NOTES BILL CLINTON WILL START HIS TALK SHOW WITH, AND WHERE HE WILL END UP RINGING THE SALACIOUS CASH REGISTER ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK.

• Whither NATO: Mother Russia is Stealing Our Man.
• The Supreme Court - Beneath The Robes: Grandpa Dresses Like A Trollop.
• The Clinton Library Presents: Scantily Clad Overweight Teen Make-Overs.
• The 2004 Liberal Democrat Dilemma: Abusive Relationships: Co-Dependent Parties Who Just Can't Say No.
• The Legacy of Margaret Thatcher: Top Of Her Class In Slut School.
• Inside the Mideast Peace Talks: Secret Places Yasar Arafat Never Touched.
• The Coming Oil Crisis: America Cries: "Drill Me. Deeper. Faster. Make It Spurt."
• Direct From The Pakistani Refugee Camps: Bourka Bloopers.
• The High Stakes of Trust: America's Intelligence Partners: The Girls of James Bond.
• Al- Jezeera- The Voice of a New Arabia- Presents: Scantily Clad Overweight Teen Make-Overs.

So, let me get this straight. The President welcomed Colin Powell back to Washington calling his Mideast mission a success. A success? Why? Because he came back? Talk about grading on a curve. What is this: "Survivor: The West Bank?" Outwit. Outlast. Split Early. And Powell is who exactly, Richard Hatch? Are you telling me that's all you got got do these days is endure? Well, fancy that. Each and every one of us have been big old successes all this time simply by clinging onto existence and we just didn't realize it.

Besides, what the hell are they doing sending the administration's brightest bulb over there in the first place? He's the least expendable of these oily fratboys. Of course the most extraneous is George W and one can't have that, now can one? Or, can one? Hmmm. Interesting. Still, someone has to tell Dubyah, you term a mission like that "a success" and you seriously run the risk of setting the bar way too freakin low Bubba. Problem is, pretty soon the whole world catches on to your tricky serves and they start to rocket them right back at you. And as you've probably guessed, I've come up with a couple of examples.

WILL DURST'S SAMPLE PROTOTYPES OF HOW BUSH'S PREDILECTION FOR LOWERED EXPECTATIONS CAN COME BACK TO BITE HIM IN THE BUTT.

• Air Force One's pilot can express his opinion that landing in Orlando instead of Tallahassee is hella close enough. "Why you sweating me, Dawg?"
• The State Department is now free to term Operation Enduring Freedom an unqualified victory: "Even though we still don't know where Osama bin Laden is, one thing you can be sure of, he ain't answering his cell phone no more."
• Yassar Arafat can declare he's actually ramping down the Mideast violence by utilizing young female suicide bombers, because they carry less explosives.
• His daughters are able to tell him they've fully stopped drinking a minimum of 16 hours every day. When you do the math, they're virtually sober.
• Ariel Sharon can say even though he sent tanks into the West Bank again, he actually was observing the truce because all the the tank treads were painted to blend in with the ensuing rubble. "Its a compassionate incursion."
• His Chief of Staff can assure him the projected loss of Republican Congressional seats in the fall election is bound to be less than they fear it will.
• His wife Laura informs him that because the couch is only a pillow throw from the bed, practically speaking they're still enjoying connubial bliss.
• Trent Lott can boast how excited he is lining up almost enough votes to break that Democratic Senate filibuster. "Came real close that time."
• Saddam Hussein can use this same strategy to allow UN weapons inspections to verify only the female rest rooms at Chucky Cheese franchises. Although that wouldn't be much of a change.

Dear American Cardinals:
Thank you for responding so promptly to the Unprecedented Special Conclave His Holiness has called in order to wrestle this phantom runaway train of false accusations to the ground and smother it like a venial sin in a blanket full of indulgences. The Pope understands the pressures you are under, accepts your assurances the whole mess is nothing more than a media circus, and is pleased as punch to welcome you to Rome, where all the best gladiator movies were filmed. Please fill out this Questionnaire before proceeding to a short reception in the catacombs where a light buffet dinner will be served before this evening's presentation of "La Cage Aux Folles" by the Vienna Boys Choir. Tonight's theme: Red, Red, Red is the color of my Miter.

1. PARISHIONERS OFTEN NICKNAME THEIR CLERICS. PICK THE ONE THAT FITS YOU THE CLOSEST:

A. Spencer Tracy.
B. Blotchy thighs.
C. Father schmoochie- lips.

2. WHEN ASKED WHAT'S UNDER MY ROBES, I ALWAYS SAY

A. A steel chastity belt and Jesus has the only key.
B. Just enough to frighten Satan.
C. There's a little puppet town down there. Would you like a visa?

3. I HAVE AN EXTENSIVE VIDEOTAPE COLLECTION

A. Of Broadway musicals.
B. In a safety deposit box under an assumed name.
C. On loan to The Copenhagen Film Festival.

4. HEARING CONFESSIONS IS THE MOST FUN WHEN

A. You can lighten the load of your fellow man.
B. You later listen to the tapes on your headphones in the dark.
C. You feel the clinging swish of your fishnets rubbing against each other.

5. ALTAR BOYS ARE

A. Essential tools to give proper glory to God.
B. Sinfully smooth.
C. Scrumdidillyumptious.

6. AFTER OUR LITTLE CONFAB HERE IN ROME, I MOST WANT TO

A. Visit the sainted sites of Christendom's martyrs or see "Tony And Tina's Wedding" in the original Italian.
B. Arrange to fly back home a couple cases of decent communion wine.
C. Go to one of those Caligulan Court recreations I've read so much about in the Vatican newsletter.

7. I AM A SPECIAL APOSTLE TO

A. Jesus.
B. Sister Aloysius.
C. Jason and his brother Jeremy.

8. I'M SO HORNY

A. But still, I have not strayed in my monogamous relationship with God.
B. I have at times experimented being intimate with a vacuum cleaner hose.
C. When I first moved into my pine paneled room, there were no knotholes. Now there are.

Anybody marking 5 C's or more, please take the time to write up your most memorable encounter which will be placed in The Vatican's private pornography collection— the largest in the world! Thank you for your co-operation, and go with God's grace.

The hell is wrong with these people? They've gone plumb loco if you ask me. All this fussing and fighting over a tiny barren spit of land nobody's ever given a halfway decent crap about until the last fifty years. Not Napoleon. Not Alexander. Not Khan. Nobody. Not Moses. He stalled for what, 40 years, before finally reluctantly pointing it out to what was left of his people. "Somewhere over there. Can't miss it. Look for the really coarse sand." Even Mister Why Can't You Be More Like Your Brother Jesus ditched the hacienda as soon as his little legs could hold him upright. Disappearing for what, 20 years? Probably kicked back on one of those white sand beaches in Thailand with bare breasted acolytes serving him round after round of those fruity rum drinks with the tiny fluorescent umbrellas. Its a godforsaken desert in the middle of freakin nowhere for christ's sake. You ask any geologist worth his salt and he'll shower you with research that will slice your hide with paper cuts proving there's not oil drop one within 1400 miles of this damn desolate wasteland. You know what they eat: figs. And humus. The baba ganouch: imported. No wonder everyone is so cranky. There's gotta be some sort of magnetic weirdness in the Dead Sea driving everybody within shouting distance just plain crazy. It's the only answer. You got young folks blowing themselves up on a daily basis for the sake of some phantom misguided mantra they've been force fed from birth called "patriotism." Then you got an entire race of people willing to wipe another entire race of people off the face of the planet because a couple of flippo units committed suicide in the name of God taking out some of them at the same time. It's insane.

Besides, don't they know we got more important things to worry about right now? We don't need any distractions. We're occupied. Sorry. Bad choice of words there. We're busy. Trying to find one 6' 5" bearded skinny Saudi undergoing dialysis accompanied by a one-eyed Mullah. And may I impress upon you that we will find the two of them if we got to flatten the Khyber Pass to parking lot smoothness and then stripe the somna bitch on top of it. These petty squabbles half a hemisphere away are not helping us at all. Every time Dad asks for permission to bomb Saddam Hussein back to the Stone Age, they keep bringing up the Goddam West Bank. West Bank. West Bank. West Bank. I'm sick and tired of it. So Colin, you get over there and kick Arafat and Sharon in the ass and get Zinni out of there before he jump starts World War Goddam III, and gas goes up to two bucks a gallon. You got it?

Yes, Mr. President.

Good. Now who the hell are the Rangers playing today? The As? Again? Christ.

I love Easter. It's the anti Halloween. Hardboiled eggs and jellybeans. Rabbits everywhere. Plastic grass. Yes, its time again for that confused frenzy of fertility celebrating the occasion when Christ comes out of the cave, sees his shadow and baseball season starts. Forget about your robins and your cherry blossoms and those spongy yellow marshmallow bunnies that taste like how pussy willows look, it's the first crack of the bat that's the true harbinger the Vernal Equinox is at hand. Because this IS the next year that everybody talked about all winter, and every team has been born anew with a theoretical chance to WIN IT ALL, SMOKE THE BIG CHEESE, EVISCERATE THE LIZARD, except of course, for the Montreal Expos, who are on track to be mathematically eliminated early next week. And here are my predictions for which teams will be huddling around the table reaching for that serrated lizard knife.

AMERICAN LEAGUE

EAST
Yankees. Damn Yankees. Dirty Stinking Rotten Lousy Yankees. I know. I know. I'm not happy about it either. But hey, who's that fat guy casting a shadow over Fenway? Why, isn't that Mo Vaughan? Hey Steinbrenner, watch out for Boston.

CENTRAL
Cleveland's resurgence since they moved to Jacobs Field still doesn't include a World Series ring. They also don't have much pitching or any protection for Jim Thome, but this could be the year they start window shopping for some jewelry. They ain't going to end up with it, but they will go shopping.

WEST
Every year one team surprises the hell out of everybody by rising out from under the trash heap to make a seemingly impossible run, and this season its the Texas Rangers who are going to shake off the stigma of Alex Rodriguez's contract to do just that. But watch the Texas heat suck the MPH out of their pitchers in August. Oakland takes the west.

NATIONAL LEAGUE

EAST
Mets. Damn Mets. Dirty Stinking Rotten Lousy Mets. Did you see them load up like a John Goodman at an all- you- can- eat popcorn shrimp buffet this winter? Burnitz. Estes. Jeez- pete. Poor Atlanta loses the East for the first time since hair started growing out of Bobby Cox's ears, but they take the wild card.

CENTRAL
I really would like to say Milwaukee Brewers because I always believe in predicting with your heart rather than your head, but I got to go with the Cardinals. Naww, screw it, the Cubs.

WEST
If Johnson and Schilling stay healthy the Diamondbacks win on paper, but they don't play on paper do they? No they don't. Because if they did play on paper, few people would wander down to the stadium and hardly anybody would buy those fancy replica uniforms. So let's go with Dusty's Misfits. Ladies and Gentlemen, the San Francisco Giants. As long as its not the Dodgers.

PLAYOFFS

AL: Yankees beat the Athletics again. Red Sox beat Indians. Sox beat Yankees.
NL: Mets beat Cubs. Giants beat Braves. Giants beat Mets.
World Series: Giants beat Red Sox. Hey a guy, can dream, can't he?

Last week, Mr Homeland Security hisself, Tom Ridge, who has spent so much time assessing the safety of various shadow government caves, he has moss growing on his north side, suddenly surfaced and it turns out he managed to spend a bit of time digging through Ross Perot's old Filemaker Pro programs and emerged with a chart. A color coded chart. A color coded security chart specifically designed so we know when to piss and when to shit bricks. This chart has five colors ranging from exceedingly cool to seriously hot.

• Green. The safest. A situation our grandkids may someday see, but I wouldn't bet their allowance on it. Go ahead; picnic outdoors within sight of Nuclear Power Plant Cooling Towers. No problem. Still eating quarter pounders with cheese by the barrel.
• Blue. Good, but still not good. Better than now. But then so was most of the Cold War, excluding Bay of Pigs and Cuban Missile Crisis. Think Dr Strangelove with George Stephanopolous in charge. Still eating quarter pounders with cheese one at a time.
• Yellow. The state we're at now. Be alert. Drink more coffee. Avoid convenience stores. Stop taking cabs. Go ahead, eat a quarter pounder, but lay off the cheese.
• Orange. Oooh, not good. Bad, as a matter of fact. Not as bad as it gets, but bad enough you might want to sleep with some tent stakes under your pillow. Fire up the SUV. Lose the quarter pounders, eat some falafel.
• Red. Bad. Real bad. Screaming in the night bad. Chewing your own eyelids bad. 24 hour Ted Koppel wearing nothing but a tank top and flip flops bad. Snacking on peat moss.

Ridge has also given local communities the option of individualizing alerts designed specifically to the local character of the areas. This is a great idea, since we Americans have the attention span of bunjee jumping geese and a color wheel is way too complex for most of us. What we really need are crude icons featured in the lower corner of the tv screen like a weather watch. Simple outlines, with obvious explanations.

• Lawn mower: Might want to take care of some minor chores.
• Fork and knife: Got food? Get some. Get a lot.
• Bed: Rent a porno flick and procreate like mink.
• Beer mug: Time to start drinking heavily.
• Double Helix: Locate a secure laboratory to secrete a sample of your DNA in the off chance future scientific advances will be able to replicate your family tree.
• Page of paper with writing: Written a last will and testament? Now might be a good time.
• Pair of lips: Kiss your butt goodbye.
• Church steeple: Praying long and hard at this point could not hurt.
• Mushroom cloud: Praying long and hard at this point could not hurt.
• Broken Washington Monument: We are hereby leaderless. Time to start partying.

Six months to the day after the tragic events of September 11th, George W Bush held an anniversary party on the South Lawn of the White House, complete with cake and noisemakers and gifts formerly intended for big money contributors who aren't necessary anymore as Dubyah's poll numbers are staying high due to his clever postponement of the end of the war. Relatives of the victims of the terrorist attacks boycotted the event declaring they were being denied their fair share of the September 11th donations. They also protested their portrayal by the media as greedy louts. At which even Kenneth Lay was heard to snort. At the celebration, Bush blew out 2,729 candles while wearing a flag cloak designed by chief of staff Karl Rove. He then went on to elevate Iraq to Axis of Evil Emeritus status, referring to it as the Ultimate Acme of Evil, with Iran and North Korea dropping down a notch to top heavyweight Evil contenders. He then went on to announce new sub Categories of Evil for "nations and foes, which are really starting to bug me now."

The Bantamweight Evil Champ: an International inferiority complex can only hide you so long Algeria.

The Child- Proof Aspirin Bottle Of Evil: We know you're in there, Syria, just can't get at you yet.

The Frayed Braided Rug Beneath The Porch Swing Of Evil: You think nobody notices you anymore because you've become part of the furniture, but if I were you, I wouldn't get too comfortable, Mister  Yemen.

The Pushpin Tray On The Corkboard Of Evil: Yeah, we hate digging around in there, because you always manage to prick us, but Mr Qaadafi, don't think you're time isn't coming, because it is.

The 73 Chevy Impala Glove Compartment Of Evil: Sure, sure, you may be hidden somewhere inside a bunch of white trash, but if we want you bad enough, Aryan Nation dudes, we'll be a-coming.

The Busted Swizzle Stick In The Funky Back Compartment Of The Silverware Drawer Of Evil: One of these days, we don't know when, our wife is going to show up with a shovel and clean you right out Pakistan.

The Weird Smell From Under The Workbench In The Corner Of The Basement Of Evil: Yeah, we know we've ignored you pretty much since we've moved in hoping you would just go away, but you haven't and we're starting to realize, something is going to have to be done, and you know it too, don't you, Zimbabwe?

The Loose Moose Horn Button At The Bottom Of The Grey Cardigan Of Evil: Canada. Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know, best friend, plucky ice skater teams, yaddah, yaddah,yaddah, but what have you done for us lately, hunh?

You Can't Make Stuff Up Like This!

• After mounting media criticism, the Pentagon has quietly rescinded its program to create a Ministry of Misinformation for propaganda purposes. Besides, after careful reflection, it was considered redundant.
• Some of the congressmen involved in the Enron inquiry are being very circumspect in their questioning fearing if they push too hard, Ken Lay will cut off their allowance. At least this thieving, lying weasel is being investigated by a true jury of his peers.
• Testifying before Congress, Ken Lay said he was hesitant to take the 5th Amendment, because people might assume he has something to hide. YESSSS! Then he said he thought of his Enron employees as family. Yeah, right, and he was Andrea Yates.
• Marine biologists warn the world's shark population is being threatened and are calling for a replenishment of the species' natural breeding grounds: law schools.
• Salt Lake City is being congratulated for hosting a spectacular Olympics. The President says he hopes Americans were inspired by this demonstration of discipline, training and the benefit of healthy lifestyles sponsored by McDonald's, Pepsi and Budweiser. Especially impressive was the security. Didn't see Tonya Harding once.
• Baseball's spring training has started and San Francisco Giant Barry Bonds will be hard pressed to equal his exploits from last season when he hit a major league record 73 home runs. To put it in perspective, that's almost one home run for every five Montreal Expos season ticket holders.
• Scientists say Ritalin use might have significant long term side effects. Raising the question among adults constantly surrounded by hyperactive children: who cares?
• You got to hand it to Chinese athletic officials. To prove they deserve to host the 2008 Olympics they're trying hard to turn over a sportsmanship leaf. One thing they might want to change is when the final gun goes off, make sure its not pointed at anybody. No losing competitor wants his family charged 7¢.
• The US is being criticized for treatment of the Al Qaeda prisoners in Guantanamo Bay. Yeah, I bet those chain link fences are murder on a tan.
• Maybe the fates of Enron and K- Mart and Global Crossing will put a halt to all those politicians saying they want to run the country like a business. Probably not.
• Rush Limbaugh's hearing loss forces him to deal with the most exasperating predicament of his life. A crisis he can't blame on Clinton.
• Love the Tourism Board of the Congo finding the brightside of nation wide volcanic eruptions and subsequent rivers of lava: "All pools now heated."
• Hollywood agents want a new contract with the Screen Actors Guild, but talks have hit a snag while SAG negotiators seek to determine just exactly what it is the agents do.
• A snow storm closed schools this week in Kentucky sending shock waves around the country. Kentucky has schools?
• $25 million reward for the head of Osama bin Laden, which for the Pentagon is what, six hammers and a case of duct tape?

Aaarrgh. People, peel me off. I am glued to the tube watching the XIX Winter Olympics where we, and yes, I do mean the US of A, are kicking major Russkie and Scandinavian ass. Paddling big furry white butts is what is going on. It’s a happy sticky. On a pace to better than double our previous personal best in terms of medals won. Not too shabby when you consider we're doing it with only one African- American. And all the experts are saying this is terrific timing for the country. But the ramifications run much wider than just eardrum piercing chants of "U-S-A" in bars and living rooms all over this great land of ours. So, let's catalogue the sidereal winners and losers of these Salt Lake City Winter Games.

Winner: George W Bush. Does the term "Enron" have any meaning here? Enron? Enron who? Exactly.

Loser: Smurfs. After two weeks of Katie Couric and Bob Costas, the little blue cartoons now seem positively diabolical in comparison.

Winner: The state of Utah, who have lost that whole stuck-in-the-wilderness stigma amid reports of world class gouging including three-and-a-half dollar Snickers bars.

Loser: Creed. My sacrifice was wasting time waiting in vain for a freak blizzard to blow out your equipment catapulting the entire band to a Wyoming wolf's lair.

Winner: Olympic spectators, who are now allowed to bring in their own food since they ate the entire Olympics inventory of seven-dollar hot dogs in five days.

Loser: New York City. Discarded and replaced as sympathetic darling by Canadian pairs figure skaters.

Winner: Canadian pairs figure skaters who were mugged in front of the world and milked it for 6 days of endorsement quality publicity.

Loser: Canadian pairs figure skaters. Whine. Whine. Whine. Now they got a silver and a gold. Well, whoptee do. What the hell, give them a bronze too.

Winner: Slackers, in the form of Australian, Stephen Bradbury, who was so far back in the 1000 meter short track finals, he remained totally unaffected by the crash taking out the front four skaters and literally skated through the wreckage to the gold. Dude!

Loser: Axis of Evil. Combined medal count: 0.

Winners: Dick Cheney. GAO? What GAO? Exactly.

Loser: NBC. It’s been a full four months since they've been able to launch new "Law & Order" series. Olympics blamed.

Winner: Roller Derby. Clever promotional tie-ins could re-invent itself as short track Olympic speed skating on wheels.

Loser: Hollywood. For not signing up the Austrian ski jumper who looks like Harry Potter to do a series of adult themed sequels where the graduated wizard student becomes an alpine spy.

Winner: Roots. The clothing company that makes the ultimate sought after USA beret. Maybe now people will forget those stupid shoes that made you look like you were always walking uphill.

Losers: Atlanta, because everybody keeps saying, "yeah, sure, there's huge immense gouging going on, but nothing like Atlanta."

Stand back everybody, I think I'm going to blow. Got myself a bad bad case of tertiary flag poisoning. Old Glory gout. The Star Spangled Ebola. Still suffering occasional flashbacks from watching the Super Bowl and you'd be wise to give this sick boy some hurling room. Feel like a veal calf who's been fed too many Stars and Stripes through a funnel saluted down my throat and they're leaking like color form gravy out of every one of my orifices and I'm twirling like a WWI Vet to catch them before they slide down and hit the ground and I'm burned for sedition.

I know, I know, I know, I should have known. After all, this 36th edition of freeze dried American extravagance was subtitled "A Celebration of America" but jeez pete, Mr Tagliabue, there is such a thing as overkill. Its right there in the dictionary between, "oh for christs sake" and "ow, my eye." "The National Anthem" was sung 3 or 4 times, and "God Bless America" and "America the Beautiful" at least twenty and they passed out red white and blue lights and there were soldiers proposing and Barry Manilow trying to move rhythmically and The Declaration of Independence and ex Presidents and then they replaced John Lennon with Terry Bradshaw and what the hell was up with that?

Then THEN the 14 point underdogs, a team with no more chance of beating the Saint Louis Rams than a banana slug has of surviving a three month scavenger hunt across the Utah Salt Flats kicks a last second 50 yard field goal to win the game. First of all; who in their right mind is going to swallow that? Everybody knows the Super Bowl is over by the time the first Britney Spears commercial is finished. I mean the long one, not the short ones they reprise out of it. Second of all, last second, my ass. It was so obviously a fix.

We all know why they won. Because both they and their cheerleaders wore bright shiny red white and blue uniforms. Because their name is THE PATRIOTS for crum's sake. Hello?! If you ask me, a little more surreptitiousness might have worked. I mean, c'mon, had it been a snake, it would have crawled up our legs and lived in our butts. Not before snuggling deep into that warm accommodating cavity and depositing seeds so we could actually evacuate red and white stripes and fields of blue. Thank God Mardi Gras is next Tuesday.

The colors for that are purple, green and gold. At least the Big Easy can get back to normal. The rest of us will be watching the Olympics. "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!" Pass the Maalox somebody. I'm about to turn into Old Faithful.

You Can't Make Stuff Up Like This!

• Florida Governor's Jeb Bush's daughter Noelle was caught trying to pick up a fraudulent prescription at a drive through drug store. Fortunately, Secretary of State Katherine Harris is expected to investigate and find nothing wrong.
    
  
• Wonder if the hot tub Taliban, John Phillip Walker Lindh was attracted by clever recruitment posters: "We suppress more women before 6am than most other fanatical barbaric regimes do all day." "Join the Taliban and see the caves."
    
• Houston is talking about keeping Enron's name on its baseball stadium. They should also consider Titanic, Hindenberg and Custer World.
    
• I imagine the toughest job for John Ashcroft's staff is interpreting notes taken while Mister Compassionate Conservative is speaking in tongues. Not got mention, the guy probably still writes his "s's" as "f's."
    
• It was sobering to be confronted on television with bin Laden's video brimming full of hatred, vengeance and intolerance. Oh, sorry, that was Falwell's 700 Club.
    
• The most tragic byproduct of the accusation that Tyson Foods is importing illegal aliens to work at their chicken processing plants is the fact they're taking jobs away from illegal aliens already here.
    
• Academy Award officials reportedly are taking extraordinary security measures to insure Winona Ryder doesn't take any statuettes home.
    
• Congress has returned from its winter break where they went home and did not hing for a couple of weeks. Kind of like a working vacation.
    
• Now that Congress has reconvened, 99 year old Senator Strom Thurmond should buckle down and finish up that long term project of his. Actually sitting in his chamber seat.
    
• The Transportation Department has dropped its requirement that airport security workers be high school grads. Soon, the test will consist solely of whether they spell "high school" with a "k."
    
• The good news is both political parties have resolved to cut spending in 2002. The bad news is the spending they're bound to cut will be yours and mine.
    
• A church in New Mexico is burning Harry Potter books. Apparently they inspire kids to do un-Christian things like read.
    
• Scientists have discovered the protein linked to the aging process. By isolating this enzyme, researchers hope they may one day be able to better understand Andy Rooney.
    
• AL Qaeda prisoners have been taken to Guantanamo Bay in Cuba where they are reportedly receiving subhuman treatment: drinks without umbrellas, mint ess pillows and no sunscreen available with an SPF rating over 10.
    
• The good news for pot smokers is a federal judge ruled its okay to drive under the influence of marijuana in Idaho. The bad news is: you still got to be in Idaho.

Poor Kenneth Lay. Just this time last year he was riding higher than bacteria on a gnat inside the ear of a giraffe with a hyperactive pituitary. And now the powers that be are starting to pile on like he was a secret member of the Taliban's high command and they discovered his black turban on a shelf in the closet behind the gay porn tapes. All because Enron reportedly put a few employees' retirement in a bit of jeopardy, and Kenny Boy, as our hero President is wont to call him, might have sold a couple of shares of Enron stock while the company was experiencing their minor financial setback. It turns out there is an extremely logical and reasonable explanation for this "suspicious" behavior. Mr Lay was not trying to ditch his stockholders and employees, but merely trying to raise some quick cash. To put it in the simplest of terms, for the "layman": he used his millions of dollars in Enron stock to repay loans made to him by the company and then he would take out more loans to repay money he owed on his other investments. That's all. Of course Mr Lay was concerned about Enron's health, that's why on September 26 he used an online chat to urge employees to buy Enron shares because the stock was "an incredible bargain" which it was. Its an even better bargain now. Huge bargain as a matter of fact.

You know what, I think people are just jealous. And indignant. And pissed. And outraged. And bitter. And angry. Just because Enron didn't pay any income taxes four out of the last five years, although whose fault was that? The shred happy accounting firm of Arthur Anderson, that's who. And weren't they fired last week? Of course they were. By who? Enron. See, problem discovered, action taken. Of course, nobody cares what happens to Mr Lay. Who's wringing their hands over the fact this persecuted American has had to stay liquid by selling most of the properties he owns and pays taxes on all over this great nation of ours? No one. We're talking 3 out of the 4 homes he owned in Aspen, Colorado. Now this beleaguered CEO only has one destination to stay while skiing. How is one supposed to entertain when the help is staying in the same 12 bed room manse as the guests?

The only consolation is though his name will be dragged through mud by a vengeful media, the man himself is destined to receive justice. It is very doubtful any of the 10 Congressional investigating committees will be able to form a quorum for even considering an indictment. After all, 250 out of 535 members of Congress received campaign contributions from Enron and that doesn't include the Attorney General's office, which has recused itself. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure everyone in DC except for Monica Lewinsky has recused themselves from this investigation. Perhaps Mr Lay will take some solace from the price an old Enron ethics manual being sold on Ebay right now for over $250 whose seller advertises it as being in mint condition. Hopefully Mr Lay has a couple of cases of old manuals laying around the garage. I doubt if any of them were ever used. Will Durst is thinking of raiding his penny jar and buying a thousand shares of Enron. Who wants in?

You know, I might very well have been convinced George W did pass out after choking on an unchewed pretzel while watching the Baltimore Ravens playoff game if only his staff hadn't held a press conference to announce to everyone that he passed out after choking on an unchewed pretzel while watching the Baltimore Ravens playoff game. It just tickles a very familiar nerve near where my Nixon bone meets my Clinton joint. Try as I might to swallow this force fed goofy anecdote, I end up suspecting something else much more untoward actually going down. Paranoid? Yes, yes, of course I'm paranoid. That's my job. But this a paranoia based on experience. Surely you feel the familiar itch as well. I mean, come on: "he slipped off the couch when a pretzel that had not lost the integrity of its shape stimulated the vagal nerve which can decrease the heart rate and induce fainting caused him to fall on a table and then the floor planting a rug burn the size and color of a medium plum on his face?" And he knows he was only unconscious for four seconds because his dogs were in the same place only looking at him "funny?" All dogs t look at you funny. We don't eat our throw up. I'd say you can't make stuff up like this, but obviously they have, they can and they will. Maybe I've seen too many episodes of "The West Wing" but no presidential staff is going to make their man look ridiculous unless it's to cover up for something even more ridiculous or spooky. So I'm guessing what might the real deal have been. These are just paranoid fantasies, you understand.

• Bush got sucker punched while Indian wrestling with Russian Premier Vladimar Putin.
   
• In the middle of another hourlong mocking taunt of his dad for how much better this war was going, his mother belted him with a cheese grater.
   
• Distressed by his unrequited love for Condoleeza Rice he plunged off the wagon and pulled a three quarter scale William Holden.
   
• While Dick Cheney was changing the batteries in the wireless remote carried in his pocket 24/7, the VP suffered a mini- stroke and one of the AAA's rolled under the couch and by the time he retrieved it, W had hit the ground like a flesh anvil.
   
• A slap fight broke out after his brother Jeb double dog dared him to spell Afghanistan.
   
• Mary Matalin was riding him like a bucking bronco and his head got caught between the chair and a ceremonial saddle blanket given to Andrew Jackson by Lafayette.
   
• It was actually a peanut, but that's so Jimmy Carter and this is no time to remind people of selfless duty and service so they went with pretzels because the popcorn people ponied up some cash.
   
• Rush Limbaugh didn't know he was in the room and quickly turned to yell at the help, bruising W with his massive ego.
   
• ENRON. I don't know how. But it was definitely ENRON.