Getting the most out of celebrity gossip

It’s occurred to me that tabloid shows would be a lot more interesting if they actually emulated tabloids. Sadly this came to me recently when I was watching one of celebrity gossip gabfests one evening. I don’t know the names of the shows but it was not the show with Sugar Ray. Yes, I know his name is Mark McGrath but if people are going to insist on calling Darius Rucker “Hootie” I think it’s only fair if we call Mark McGrath “Sugar Ray”, which makes me wonder if these tabloid shows would fare better if “Hootie” was a host.

It’s important to clarify that I didn’t seek this show out. It happened to be on when I sat down and I did not feel inclined to change the channel. I’m not being coy when I say that I didn’t enjoy the program. It was awful. Believe me, I wish I was just saying that. I prefer to get my dirt from Best Week Ever because I like my gossip delivered with the snarky commentary that only has-been and never-will-be comics can deliver. Go get ‘em, Doug Benson.

The host (I later learned his name is Billy Bush) makes Ryan Seacrest seem like a man’s man. Billy Bush is an annoying little turd who seems more interested in his time in front of the camera than the people he’s supposed to be yammering on about. Granted that’s not unusual in his line of work. Katie Couric ditched a cushy gig on NBC so she could get more exposure on CBS. Well, she doesn’t get more exposure because Today ran for 10 hours straight but CBS guarantees plenty of shots at he legs and a special make up crew to keep those gams in prime condition. The problem with Billy is that he’s so obvious about being a whore. Billy Bush is like that hooker down in the warehouse district where as Katie’s more like a $2500 a night call girl, although at this point CBS is probably wishing they would have gone that route. The $2500 a night call girl would be cheaper and more believable.

One of the (ahem) news items was a quick blurb on Britney’s hair. Apparently it’s grown a full two inches since she hacked it off to get even with her evil mother. All it did was made it easier for her mom to steal her boyfriends. There was another segment on Nicole Ritchie and her official California department of corrections weight which seems to indicate a net gain of 20 pounds since Nicole was last arrested. Something tells me that extra 20 pounds was probably contraband stuffed deep into various orifices.

Now I’m sure that these shows are more interesting when Lindsay Lohan runs over a girl scout troop and with Halloween coming up around the time she gets out of rehab for real there’s still hope, but the content on these shows leaves something to be desired. When I see the tabloid magazines in the checkout isle I notice compelling stories about women giving birth half human freaks and alien conspiracies. Even the more mundane celebrity gab rags deliver interesting pictures of Sharon Stone’s flabby ass and Jessica Alba’s botched Brazilian. Why can’t they feature those stories on the live action shows?

I’d also like to see some hard hitting stuff. Paper tabloids love to speculate about sexuality, so let’s put some of these celebrities on the hot seat and get to the point. I’m tired of wondering about Nathan Lane. Come on, buddy, fess up. Granted stars like Nathan Lane don’t want to come out because the mystery keeps their names in the papers but why should they manipulate the press? This is still journalism, right? If these stars want to play they have to pay. Straight answers or no more publicity…not even if your publicist begs for it.

Imagine putting Tom Cruise to the test:

Gossip Monger: So, Tom, have you stopped being gay?

Tom Cruise: Yes…I mean no…wait, I’m not gay.

GM: It’s a yes or no question.

TC: No it’s not! You…

GM: OK, No it is. So is Katie comfortable with your relationship?

TC: You’re a jerk.

GM: So she’s not. So are you seeing any famous men?

History in the Making

The Bush Administration is surreal. We’ve seen audacity before: Bill Clinton actually requested clarification on the legal definition of the word “is”. George H.W. Bush barfed on the Emperor of Japan. Ronald Reagan made “I don’t recall” his presidential motto. If he becomes a permanent fixture on the dime they should replace “In God We Trust” with “I Don’t Recall”.

It doesn’t stop there. Gerald Ford was clearly appointed to pardon Richard Nixon who ordered federal agents to steal documents from the Democratic opposition. One can only imagine that he was talked down from ordering the assassination of the leading Democratic candidates and settled on theft as part of a compromise.

Presidents and the people around them have proven to be corrupt and inept often at the same time. This dereliction of duty started with John Adams when he forced the passage of the Alien and Sedition acts in order to quash criticism of his administration. Interestingly enough the Bush administration has tried to use its power to limit the scope of the press.

Nothing compares to the Bush administration and we’ve had some doozies. Bush has taken the worst we have seen out of our past presidents and gone one better. The good news is that it’s hard to imagine it will ever get worse. The bad news is that this guy managed to get two terms. Sure, both elections remain steeped in controversy with final counts in pivotal states still in question but how did it get close enough to steal?

You can run down the list of cabinet officials, review a biography of Karl Rove and analyze the policy positions taken over the course of the past 7 years but nothing tops the two men at the top. Bush is the ever-bumbling moron to the embodiment of comic book evil that is Dick Cheney. It’s almost like a live action version of Pinky and The Brain.

Almost because The Brain was a cerebral intellectual genius who was often undermined by his control group counterpart where as Cheney is more of a surly old bastard who uses his bumbling sidekick as cover. You get the impression that when these guys leave office newly appointed White House officials will discover a shit stain on the Constitution from where Cheney literally wiped as ass on it and the Declaration of Independence will have splotches of Kool Aide on it because Bush used it as a coaster. We’ll probably find Lady Justice in a Supreme Court cloak room bound, gagged and sodomized with her scales and the Statue of Liberty might very well end up turning tricks in a Beijing massage parlor.

Unlike the quintessential bad guy, Cheney has no class. He dropped the F-bomb in Congress. Granted, we’d all like to (WTF is going on in here?) but Cheney used it in a threatening manner when addressing a rival. It should have been shocking but it wasn’t. We’re talking about a guy who shot a man in the face and then sat on his ass while that same man apologized to Dick Cheney for the public humiliation the shooting caused. Cheney is a heartless son of a bitch. Literally! The Federal government has spent almost as much money on Cheney’s ticker as it has on body armor for the troops. Cheney makes Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars seem like a fair and decent human being.

I’m still trying to figure out if W hails from the prominent political Bush family of Maine, Texas and Ohio or if he is actually related to the Bush’s Baked Beans clan. His father wasn’t exactly a great president nor was he an eloquent statesman but George H. W. Bush didn’t come across as patently stupid or even arrogant. The younger Bush is a dangerous combination of both. He’s definitely the product of several generations of wealth and the inevitable inbreeding that occurs when opulent people marry to consolidate power.

We’ve had presidents who managed to cast poor public images in the past. Jefferson was a poor public speaker who mumbled in hopes of hiding a lisp. Carter seemed wimpy, as did the elder Bush and Richard Nixon was just creepy. Gerald Ford was widely regarded as somewhat dumb but that was because he was a very slow, deliberate speaker. When it comes to speaking it’s hard to think of a politician who hasn’t put his or her foot into his or her mouth. And when it comes to lies, boy do we have a surplus. Ronald Reagan was about as dishonest a president as you can find but he had so much charisma that there are people who actually want to put his face on Mount Rushmore.

Nobody beats Bush. Most people carefully craft their lies but Bush just fires away. He’s like that neighborhood brat you could catch red-handed throwing rocks through your garage windows only to deny it to the bitter end. Bush characterized John Kerry as a flip-flopper but it’s not hard for the producers of the Daily Show to compile a video segment of Bush contradicting himself. In fact the only time Bush seems capable of speaking with out stumbling over his tongue and creating new words is when he’s telling lies. It’s the truth that comes out in slow, garbled phrases that don’t quite make sense.

Thomas Jefferson was known to show disdain for pretense and offended many white house guest by suspending accepted social decorum for a more relaxed environment. Seating during White House dinners was based on who got there first and many dignitaries took offense that their fashionably late arrival resulted in a less desirable seat. This was a shrewd ploy by Jefferson to demonstrate that the American concept of power was different and respect was granted on an individual level, not necessarily by station alone.

Bush demonstrates a lack of decorum as well but his goes beyond the symbolic displays practiced by Jefferson and into the realm of boorish self-importance. From sexually harassing the Chancellor of Germany to shouting “Yo, Blair” across a room filled with foreign leaders, Bush has proven that he simply lacks respect for everybody that is not George W. Bush. He’s the “war president”; he is the “decider”; he doesn’t have to engage in tings as bothersome as diplomacy.

Other presidents went to great lengths to show world leaders respect. When John Kennedy faced the irascible Khrushchev he did it with a sense of poise and rationality that won him the respect of every other leader in the world. Imagine what life would be like had Kennedy possessed Bush’s sense of self-righteousness.
Long ago Bush decided to abandon his ivy league roots and embrace life as a redneck. He is a combination of Elmer Fudd and Yosemite Sam. He makes ridiculous accusations, outlandish threats and then has the nerve to blame liberals for the mess he made and Cheney comes out of his casket every so often to keep the train on the wrong track. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t real.

i-phone? YAWN!!!!

The i-phone has hit the market. I can’t say I’m excited or surprised by this development. To be completely honest I’m always a little under-whelmed with the latest toys.

I was born in 1970. That makes me 37 this year. It also makes me a Generation X’er. In case you missed the 80’s, we’re the tiny post-baby boom generation that lacks the motivation to sustain its own existence. We invented the six year method for obtaining a four year degree. And that’s only if it’s a useless degree. To actually obtain a degree with purpose we require an additional four years of undergraduate study. That’s after moving back home with mom and dad. Understanding my lack of enthusiasm for the i-phone requires an examination of what makes Generation X choose not to tick.

My parents and my grandparents were enamored with THE YEAR 2000. It was a mythical milestone so revered that it was always referred to as THE YEAR 2000. I was constantly regaled with their theories on what would happen. Nobody dared dismiss it with a cheeky designation such as Y2K or the familiar “two-thousand”. It was always referred to in bold face all caps format even though such type-face concepts weren’t familiar to people foolhardy enough to ensconce themselves in polyester suits before dancing the night away. To disco. Yeah, my dad claims he grew up before disco but he owned a leisure suit and a really tacky shirt. He still digs the Bee Gees. And he says rap is crap. Shall we review his record catalogue?

Generation X grew up with mixed messages. Our grandparents were certain that the world was going to end. 2000. Zero, zero. Party over, oops, out of time. Even Prince, a surprisingly influential voice of the time, seemed sure that 1999 was the last chance to lay it on the line. It was grim. My grades suffered because I realized the utter futility of school. Why bother getting an education when I was going to die before I could enjoy it? It made sense to pursue a lifestyle of hedonism early on. If only I had known then what hedonism entailed. I might have hit the road looking for “Darling Nikki”.

Of course our parents were less fatalistic. It’s hard to accept the notion that your children won’t be around long enough to squeeze off a grandchild or two (after that the original kids are expendable) so mom and dad opted to cling to the more positive aspects of THE YEAR 2000. Sadly this was based on images of cheesy post WW2 science fiction so that year represented the full fruition of every futuristic concept. For some reason, all baby boomers seemed to envision the future as a live action version of the Jetsons even though that cartoon was a cunning satire depicting a future where nothing important really changes. Sure you have a flying car and a robot maid but you still have a jerk for a boss and your hot wife has way too much time on her hands. You can bet Mrs. Jetson was getting her swerve on while George was at work getting his nuts handed to him by Spacely. Wilma cheated on Fred (possibly with Betty) and Blondie was definitely stepping out on Dagwood, the daughter is proof of that.

The point is that you should never marry somebody hotter than you deserve…no wait… it’s that our parents had a pretty silly perception of the future. By their logic we went from the Wright brothers crashing a glorified kite to jets in 50 years so having hover cars and teleporters in another 50 was reasonable. Man set foot on the moon in 1969…it all made sense. Hover cars for everyone.

So I grew up not knowing whether THE YEAR 2000 would bring instant death or hover cars, but it was going to be one of them. I never imagined that I’d be expected to get giddy over a phone that plays music. I thought that was what touchtone phones did. I really wanted the hover car but at that point my grandparents certainly seemed smarter than my Barry Manilow-loving parents (dad still raves about his talent and depth) so I banked on death, holding out hope that I would wake up on January 1st, THE YEAR 2000 to find a hover car parked outside waiting for me. Being the future, purchasing such a device would be unnecessary as the government would have no need for money. The Morlocks would do the dirty work and I would just have to avoid being eaten by them.

Imagine my disappointment. Sure, I’m alive but who wants to live in a world where cars still require contact with the road? That’s so 1910. I want my hover car and I want it now. Undoubtedly, a phone that takes pictures, plays music and surfs the internet is a dandy device but can you ride it? Hardly. Do you really think that you can placate an entire generation with a phone when we figured medical science would have unlocked our latent telepathic powers by now? We weren’t supposed to need phones after THE YEAR 2000. Just hover cars. And robot maids.

Real Issues

I don’t mind when people feel inclined to say bless you in response to a sneeze. We’ve been programmed to believe that it’s an act of common courtesy but there is no moral or ethical basis for it. I do mind that people expect me to thank them for the blessing or insist that I should offer one in return.

A sneeze is an involuntary act: a reflex where the body attempts to clear the nasal passages of a foreign object. We associate sneezes with illnesses and allergies but in most cases the sneeze is triggered by harmless particulates. So the generally accepted idea that a blessing is offered in the hopes of good health is based on faulty logic since a good sneeze is often a sign of excellent health and a functional immune system. Those sneezes generated as the symptom of a cold should be regarded with disdain as those inclined to offer a blessing are probably being invaded by the same virus that caused the sneeze in the first place. Bless yourself…you’ll need it.

There are all sorts of ridiculous tales about sneezes. One modern myth is that the heart stops beating during the sneeze. In reality the heart beats just a little faster because the sneeze requires a considerable amount of energy. Older legends speak of spirits and souls. It was once believed that a person’s soul momentarily left the body after a sneeze and a timely blessing would prevent evil spirits from exploiting the vacancy.

A cough is also an involuntary action and a much better indicator of compromised health but we aren’t inclined to offer any sort of blessing or well wish when people cough. In fact we take umbrage when subjected to the sounds of another hacking away. We associate coughs with the spread of disease even though a sneeze propels more microbes over greater distances than a cough. Particles expelled in a sneeze can travel at speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour and the violent act of the sneeze includes the entire respiratory system. One can capture most of the expectorant during a cough but a sneeze is impossible to contain.

A burp is also involuntary and while it is generally associated with the ingestion of air burps can often be linked to serious health concerns, some of them far more serious than anything associated with a sneeze. Still, burps are not blessed. Burps are considered to be exceedingly rude. One who burps is required to apologize immediately and might possibly be subjected to ridicule.

Then of course you have the wayward fart. While the burp is readily excused when the offender expresses genuine contrition, a fart is intolerable. Even if the farter requests respite from those present there is still lingering consternation. Granted, a fart is often accompanied by a disagreeable if not offensive odor but in most cases the farter had no practical recourse. Farts can sometimes be held and released in private but they have been known to slip. Ironically farts tend to be noisiest when there has been an attempt to suppress them for a delayed release. As for suppression, sneezes can be restrained with some success as well but nobody is inclined to do it. Why sneeze in private when you can sneeze in public and be blessed? Sneezes put the obligation of courtesy on those who witnessed the sneeze while the fart places that burden on the afflicted party. It’s not fair.

Sneezes are more annoying. Everybody has a different sneeze ranging from a pretentious “choo” from the dainty princesses to a blood curdling...

“WAHHHHHCHHHAAAHAAAA!!”

...from macho men who have no sense of decorum. Some people add an affectation to the sneeze to make it more personalized while others will provide some commentary on the sneeze. The worst is when the person will try to explain the origin of the sneeze. I really don’t care about nasal polyps or nostril hair. Just sneeze and shut up.

An interesting dilemma is the combination sneeze. A sneeze is so forceful that the entire body must be solicited to execute it. As the abdominal muscles tighten excess air in the gastrointestinal tract is squeezed to the nearest exit. It is not uncommon for a person who sneezes to belch or fart simultaneously. Farts are more common because the sneeze utilizes the throat and mouth. Could you imagine if we exploited the other end of our digestive tract for respiration? Yuck. And what would we get down the wrong pipe in that case? EWWW! Generally the flatus is cranked out with such force it is quite audible. This might be the reason for excessive volume or superfluous noises after the sneeze. Occasionally the sneeze doesn’t mask the sound of the fart and sneezes never hide the smell, although sneeze induced farts rarely have detectable aroma as they are a product of abdominal compression and not a biochemical event.

Can a person be blessed and excused at the same time? Doesn’t that just cancel everything out? Why bother? It’s time to stop discriminating. Why should one bodily function be treated differently than the next? Haven’t we learned anything?

A person should not be subjected to judgment and ridicule because last night’s cabbage is waging war with intestinal enzymes. A corporate meeting should not be derailed because a sip of Mountain Dew wouldn’t go down without having the last word. More importantly, people who spray everybody within a 3 yard radius with droplets of spit and mucus propelled at lethal velocities should never be put on a pedestal. What's worse: smelling recycled White Castle for a few minutes or walking around with a thin veneer of somebody else's snot on your face?

I have a dream. I dream of a world where people ask to be excused for avoidable transgressions, not involuntary bodily functions. I dream of a world where a person suffering from IBS can still be taken seriously and continue his marketing presentation. I dream of a place where discomfort is judged not by the location of the symptoms but the severity of the vector. I dream that one day a man can break wind and say:

I have gas, I have gas; praise god almighty I have some gas.

Extra, Extra...

Bad Boy Baldwin Bawls out Boorish Brat.

The world was stunned when Alec Baldwin’s voice mail tirade denouncing his daughter as a rude little pig hit the web. Gossip mongers were quick to jump into the fray. That’s to be expected, but so did some of the main stream news shows. A lot of time, money and energy went into figuring out what it all means.

Granted, Baldwin’s rant is something you’d expect out of the aging actor if he was given a bad seat at Spago or if some sycophant handed him a bottle of Aquafina instead of Dasani. It wasn’t appropriate for dealing with an insolent child but it wasn’t exactly something the world needs to worry about. I’ve personally endured much worse from my own parents and I’ve seen others get worse than that. I never had to retrieve such a scathing voicemail message on my Razor, but when I was 11 we didn’t have cellular phones so I got to enjoy the live performance. I have to tell you that nothing drives home an abusive message like errant spittle flying from the mouth of an angry parent.

We don’t have the whole story. We think that Alec Baldwin is an abusive husband but that’s only because his manic depressive ex-wife tells us he is. Kim Bassinger has squandered her mega-stardom telling everybody why they should feel sorry for her. Mommy was mean, kids made fun of her big lips and she hates all of the attention. After Alec left she told the world about his dark side. He used her insecurities against her. She never had a problem getting paid to be in movies and seemed quite content to let everybody enjoy her feminine perfection but on a deeper level she was a victim. Maybe Kim drove Alec crazy with her psychotic behavior. Of course nobody really cares about Kim any more. Everybody knows she’s a loon. The world is worried about the child. Alec went off on a 12 year-old girl. He’s a monster.

Really? Think about your average 12 year-old. They’re monsters. It’s a miracle so many kids make it out of puberty alive. In nature adolescents are part of the food chain for this very reason. Alec Baldwin’s daughter is at the age when parents become shrill caricatures of themselves because their children make them that way. Given the fact that we’re talking about a child who is probably more than a little spoiled it’s not hard to imagine that she needs a kick in the butt. Alec’s voice mail message might reveal more about the child than it does his own personality.

Think about it: We have a rich little girl with famous parents. Let’s go ahead and assume Alec has a fragile ego; kids are quick to figure out how to push those buttons and do it just for fun. Kids are cruel. Anybody with kids will tell you that much is true with all kids. Now you have Kim, a pill-popping nut job with a truckload of emotional baggage on top of a fragile ego. Instead of fighting with her daughter, Kim probably encourages conflict with Alec. Would we really put it past her? We’re talking about a freak who has bared every little personal secret in countless magazine articles. Kim will do anything to evoke sympathy for herself. She’s proven that time and time again. It might not be the kid's fault, but she’s got to be a terror. We’ve all seen kids who are out of control and in those cases a Baldwin-esque rant would certainly be in order.

I’m not going to go on record and call Alec a saint. There’s no question that he’s got a big ego and some character flaws. His rant might have come from his frustration with his daughter’s behavior but he’s a celebrity in the middle of a custody hearing with a deranged woman who used to be famous. He’s got to be smarter than that. Even if his rant was more about his bruised ego than it was his daughter’s irresponsibility, he’s got to know that things like this will become public domain.

MADD about you

Somebody has got to get MADD under control. The organization started by Candy Lightner in 1980 initially did a fine job addressing the issue of drunk driving. Campaigns drawing awareness to the dangers might have done more to cut drunk driving accidents but increased enforcement but stiffer penalties certainly made it difficult to suspend better judgment.

Lightner, however, left the organization in 1985 when it was hijacked by oppressive people with a selfish agenda. Candy expressed concern that MADD had abandoned its original mission and replaced it with a neo-prohibition policy. She wanted her daughter's death to precipitate a positive change, not become the catalyst for abolishing civil rights. That suspicion was confirmed by the subsequent presidents who have aggressively backed a 0.0 BAC level.

Lightner believes, and the statistics bear it out, that the current legal limit of .08 is not addressing the issue of drunk driving. People getting tickets for drunk driving are typically less than a 100 ^th of a percent over the limit and often pulled over for something incidental while the accidents are tied to people testing at .15 BAC or more. Instead of imposing arbitrary BAC threshholds, why not work to put the onus on bars to police their patrons. Boycotting a pub that regularly lets people stagger out the door with keys in hand would do more to get drunk drivers off the road than imposing penalties on people who might not be impaired.

Sobriety checkpoints are a controversial tool supported by MADD. They draw attention to the organization and demonstrate the effort, which justifies the quest for money. However, these checkpoints are not very effective. While a half a dozen police officers tend to a checkpoint, the location of which is identified well in advance, drunk drivers are careening all over the road in other locations throughout the community. Many of them plan an alternate route home from the bar. Besides, there are typically other crimes being committed. Public money and time are wasted on what is really a public relations device.

Reaction to alcohol is subjective. Some people have a higher tolerance than others so a specific BAC doesn't always address the issue of impairment. Not everybody is OK to drive at .07 and some people are sober at .10. MADD readily acknowledges this which is why they currently endorse a ZERO tolerance policy and a corresponding BAC limit of 0.0. They make a compelling case on paper but is it fair? Hell no.

The current testing mechanism isn't fair. Breath analysis devices can register a margin of error of .02-.05. That's bad news for the person who had a glass of wine with dinner and has an actual BAC of .05. If the legal limit is reduced to 0.0 three fourths of the people tested are going to get tickets. It's possible to register a .02 BAC 10 hours after consuming the last of 6 beers. If MADD is really serious about addressing the issue of drunk driving they should put some of that 50 million dollar operating budget behind more effective testing procedures or identify a realistic measurement of impairment rather than wage a witch hunt.

Punishment is another issue. Recently Tony LaRussa was in the news when he was arrested for driving under the influence. The Cardinals skipper dozed off at a traffic light and tested at .09. That's a smidge over the current legal limit and a bit under the old standard. MADD gleefully points out that at .09 LaRussa was clearly impaired but was it because of the booze or was he simply exhausted after a couple of 16 hour days? Perhaps the combination of alcohol and physical exhaustion worked together. Sleepy drivers are often more deadly than drunk drivers.

MADD and its like-minded supporters were quick to demand severe action even though Tony's only crime was holding up traffic. He admitted he was wrong and will pay the consequences in accordance with the law but MADD isn't happy. They believe he's getting off too easy. He should have been fired by the Cardinals and set on fire by Major League Baseball. They are of the attitude that he could have killed somebody and should be punished as such.

Joe Paterno got a lot of hate mail from MADD when he refused to kick a player off his team for getting a DUI. Paterno chalked it up to a stupid mistake and addressed the issue internally but didn't see anything productive coming from turning a kid's life upside down for screwing up one time. The State of Pennsylvania imposed its penalties, Paterno gave the player an earful but it wasn't good enough. MADD felt that Paterno had compromised his integrity by overlooking the deadly potential of the mistake. Had Paterno revoked his scholarship and kicked himoff the team that player might have become a chronic alcohol abuser and a repeat offender, but MADD doesn't care.

That's simply not fair. People must be held accountable for their actions but that accountability should be based on the actual consequences of the actions, not the maximum potential of those actions under different circumstances. Where do you draw the line?

MADD claims that things could have been worse if a police officer hadn't been stuck behind the napping LaRussa. They insist he could have lost control of his vehicle and run somebody over, or his foot could have slipped off the brake and he could have caused a serious accident. You could take that argument a step further and theorize that LaRussa could have crashed into a nuclear power plant and vaporized the state of Florida. Goodness, what if that had been mistaken for an attack and the President retaliated by launching a nuclear strike against China. Tony LaRussa could have destroyed the whole word!

It's just not rational to hold people accountable for what might have been, especially when you're only speculating about the negative consequences. In his impaired state Tony LaRussa could have made a wrong turn and ended up in front of a burning building in time to rush through the flames and save dozens of people. He could have staggered into a convenience store to ask for directions and broken up a robbery.

The reality is nobody knows what could have happened. Tony might have woken up, realized he was unable to drive and called himself a taxi or he might have sheepishly driven back to his room and climbed into bed unscathed. All we know is that Tony got busted for DUI for the first time in his life and nobody got hurt. No need to overreact.

The name of the organization says it all: MADD. These are angry people, many of whom lost a loved one to an alcohol related accident. The propaganda offered by this organization focuses on reckless drivers who were behind the wheel with BAC's of .20 or more. My son Johnny was killed when he ran out in front of a car traveling at 300 miles per hour. The driver was a bottle of Jim Beam. They don't seem to realize that they're illustrating the senselessness of their campaign for a lower BAC. How does a legal limit of .08 cut down on the number of people who get behind the wheel when they can't see straight? Most of the people getting citations for driving under the influence aren't guilty of anything more deadly than failing to signal a turn. Cops troll for DUI's because it's easy money and unless there's an accident the guy blowing a .083 gets the same punishment as the boozehound registering a whopping .183. Is that fair?

Instead of going after real issues MADD focuses on the money maker. Alcohol provides a measurable evil. And it attracts millions of people who want to see alcohol banned in general, not just from the highways. Even though many of the accidents attributed to alcohol often have other factors involved MADD would have you believe that booze is always bad. So if we have a 15 car pile up on an icy freeway MADD will pour over the records to see if anybody had any alcohol in their system. If one person gargled with Listerine that morning MADD is there with a lynch mob and the state patrol had better list alcohol as the culprit.

MADD doesn't concern itself with other impairment issues even though there are hazards much more deadly than somebody at .08. Cellular phones, LCD televisions and laptop computers cause more accidents than .08. People who drive while gobbling down breakfast pose a greater risk. We don't even have a reliable method for determining the level of impairment associated with illegal drugs, but MADD wants to make it illegal for people to think about drinking if they plan on driving. People are driving with no brakes and MADD wants a breathalyzer attached to every ignition.

It's not even about safety anymore. MADD has already fulfilled its purpose and refuses to accept the challenge of taking on other issues. They have a cash cow and they have greedy business associates. As long as they can connect drinking with driving, no matter how much of a stretch that connection might be, they can collect money and broker power. It's all about the bureaucracy. MADD is an organization drunk with its own influence. That's more dangerous than all the impaired drivers in the world.

LOOK AT THAT OLD GUY SING!!!!

I watch American Idol. It’s not because I really like the show but once in a while somebody does a great job singing a good song. More often than not mediocrity is the best you can hope for with most contestants falling below that bar. At least Simon Cowell is there to properly humiliate the offenders.

Although it’s a highly subjective casting call sometimes real musicians make the cut. Maybe producers resign themselves to the necessity of having real performers on the show to lend a little credibility to a process that clearly favors looks, curiosity and faux charisma over true talent. Once in a while somebody nails it.

Among the better performances, Bo Bice established himself as a savvy rocker who had the guts to be judged without music or backing vocals when he belted out the Allman hit Whipping Post. Chris Daughtry never compromised his hard rock roots and delved deep into alternative rock archives to uncover a dark version of Walk the Line when American Idol inexplicably forced Johnny Cash on the ears of a pop music audience. No offense to Cash, he was great, but most people butcher his songs and end up sounding like trailer trash (Carrie Underwood). Taylor Hicks overcame a propensity for tomfoolery and Phil Donahue’s hair with a versatile, soulful voice that is wasted on the bubblegum crap American Idol has forced him to record.

Kelly Clarkson stunk on ice when she released her first album and she stunk even more when she starred in that awful movie with Justin the Weenie. Why didn’t Uncle Samuel L. Jackson sign on for that? At least Kelly’s got a little more junk in the trunk than Christina Ricci. Maybe it was the PG rating. Samuel L. apparently won’t sign on unless he is guaranteed at least four f-bombs or one “I hope they burn in hell”. For a while Kelly seemed like a wistful cocktail waitress with a decent voice and no personality, destined for a phot spread in Playboy for a quick payday before her 15 minutes expired. Fortunately she found herself and became a musical force after getting the cheese out of her system. She still might knock out a Playboy centerfold.

American Idol is designed to be cheesy. Gwen Stefani has limited talent which was hidden behind the eclectic talents of No Doubt. On her own she is a gangly, less talented version of Madonna. Her solo hits are indulgent, made for video exercises in musical futility. If I could escape, I’d leave Gwen Stefani’s music behind. Still, American Idol had to have her as a guest. After giving contestants bad advice, possibly to ensure they wouldn’t out sing her, she delivered a horrible performance of one of her awful songs.

Diana Ross night was equally cheesy. Ross was always a fine entertainer but her vocals paled in comparison to the likes of Gladys Knight and Aretha Franklin. Today, Diana Ross simply isn’t relevant and her performance showed the world that her voice has taken a few steps back. We can’t take anything away from her, but forcing performers who could be her grandchildren to perform her catalogue of dated material results is bad entertainment.

Today’s performers understand cultural fusion. Modern pop music is a combination of everything. Tim McGraw performed a duet with Nelly that went to the top of the charts. The HOT 100 is peppered with songs that are either raps or feature heavy hip hop hooks. Times have changed. Guys like Barry Manilow have always been punchlines but now they are out of touch. Peter Noone might have made teenaged girls swoon back in 1960, but 47 years later nobody really cares what he has to say. Now the guy writing the songs that make the whole world sing is Timbaland.

Most musicians are influenced by who they listened to while growing up which means that today’s American Idol performers relate to people who were cranking out hits 10 or 15 years ago. Sometimes really dedicated musicians explore much older music but most don’t care to make that connection. There’s nothing wrong with that. There is a lineage there so the stars of the 1960’s still have some genetic material floating around in today’s music but aside from a select few, most of that influence is indirect. Instead of Smokey Robinson or Quincy Jones, American Idol needs to track down Teddy Riley and Babyface.

Last night was a classic example of a really bad American Idol idea: Tony Bennett. There are plenty of people who love the guy and you have to respect somebody who still loves performing at 80 years of age. Tony Bennett is worthy of respect but he’s so far removed from today’s music it’s not a good connection. The performances revealed two things: the songs and music were boring, and that type of music is really forgiving to mediocre performers. Tony Bennett sings a bleached version of jazz. Vocals are subtle, smooth and restrained. The music is light and lively but never raucous. Nobody gets to bust loose and show any soul or personality.

I’m 36 and I don’t like Tony Bennett. My parents don’t like him much either, which is bad news for Tony because my father owns a Captain and Tennille album…maybe two. On the list of lame music that’s got to be top three. You have to go back to my grandparents before you touch the generation Tony Bennett relates to best and I can only assume my grandparents didn’t like Tony either because they couldn’t stand Sinatra. Tony Bennett is like a less energetic version of Frank Sinatra. It’s lounge schmaltz.

People try to avoid saying anything bad about Tony Bennett because he’s such a venerable pop culture figure. Most people don’t care for his music at all but they like the fact that he’s still got a little vitality. It’s heartening to see a guy his age still active and able to perform. His shows are a novelty to most people.

It’s not my desire to offend Tony Bennett. He’s never given me any reason to dislike him but I can’t stand his music. It’s just slightly less objectionable than country music. His music and style isn’t timeless at all. He has a career because he is a living historical exhibit and that’s not a bad thing, but he’s got no business telling 20 year-old kids how to impress a younger audience.

It’s unlikely any of the contestants were thrilled to sing his style of music and I wasn’t excited to hear it. The only possible way to salvage the evening would have been for somebody to arrange the songs with all of that big band sound trashed in favor of stripped down guitars. It’s hard to put a rock edge on something like I’ve Got Rhythm but somebody should have tried.

And it’s not as though Tony has any real appreciation for today’s music. He took subtle shots at the performers as they tried to inject a little youth into his tired old play list. He told Beatboxing Blake that one song was written before rap and he should stay true to it. He complimented one of the singers because she could carry tune and added that it was rare these days. Isn’t that a version of “you kids these days”?

American Idol would have you believe that Tony Bennett and the style of music he represents is loved by all…that there is no generation gap, but there is. Sure people still applaud for him when he sings but are they applauding the performance or the fact that the old coot lived through it? Are they truly entertained or are they entertaining him?

We don’t have to like it. That’s what entertainment is all about. I know what I like and Tony Bennett is not on that list. I wouldn’t go to a Tony Bennett concert unless I was paid to be there and there is a very good chance I ‘d balk at a paid appearance. Tony Bennett probably wouldn’t bother going to a Fallout Boy show unless he got six figures so it’s all good. Even Steven. There’s nothing wrong with a healthy generation gap. It’s only too bad American Idol didn’t see it that way before they dusted off that tired old list of songs.

Women need to get real

As emaciated starlets and wafer thin models dominate the media with their skeletal figures, real women around the country obsess about our society’s unhealthy infatuation with physical perfection and point a chubby finger at men. As if men simply won’t take a sexual interest in somebody a fraction under a perfect “10”.

Please. Men aren’t that demanding.

Don’t get me wrong, we like hot women just as women like muscular young men with a frightening paucity of body hair. But men simply aren’t that choosey. Sure, Hollywood casting procedures certainly favor men. Recently a shriveled old Harrison Ford played the leading man to the smoking hot and decades younger Virginia Madsen and such discrepancies are rather commonplace. 60 year-old actors get to have 20 year-old love interests. That’s the way Hollywood works. So Virginia Madsen has to put up with Harrison Ford’s breath reeking of Super Poly Grip.

Madsen’s story is interesting. Though attractive and talented, Virginia has struggled to become a mainstream star. Before breaking through with a strong performance in Sideways her claim to fame was Candyman. She simply couldn’t find good parts. This might be thanks to the fact that she’s a little fuller figured than most starlets. For some reason Hollywood likes bony white girls. Men don’t mind the curves at all. Most men would rather see Virginia Madsen naked than Nicole Kidman but for some reason Virginia has struggled to find that big name following.

Her brother has not. Michael isn’t in the stratosphere with Brad Pitt but he’s much more poplar than his sister. Women find him appealing in spite of the fact that he’s paunchy and has a massive head with a flat face. He’s not an attractive man but he exudes personality. It’s unfair that he’s enjoyed more success in his career than his sister given the fact that she’s more talented and much easier on the eyes.

Women set the market. The models adorning the covers of magazines like Cosmo, Self and Shape are much thinner than those featured in publications such as Maxim, FHM and Playboy. Men like tits and ass. Women don’t.

When women buy clothing they don’t want to see it displayed on regular women, they want to see what it looks like on models that have impossible measurements. Most women aren’t 6 feet tall and those few who are don’t weigh 115 pounds. But if Victoria’s Secret draped its wares on real women real women wouldn’t spend that kind of money on fancy panties. Nobody wants to lift and separate lop-sided flapjack boobies.

Furthermore, men don’t force fat old men on society. We’re happy that women still find Harrison Ford attractive and thrilled that fat slobs like Jack Black have groupies. It means that we don’t have to become obsessed with our bodies. Women dictate that trend too. Frankly, I found the romantic connection between Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta Jones almost as unsettling as her marriage to Michael Douglas. She could have nixed that role in Entrapment and she should have held out for a younger husband. She just digs old guys. Men aren’t calling those shots, women are. The reason you don’t see Beverly D’Angelo marrying somebody 25 years her junior is because she isn’t open to it. The reason you don’t see Lauren Hutton playing Harrison Ford’s wife is because women won’t buy tickets to see that. Men don’t need romantic scenes, we have porn.

The vexing part of this debate is that the women who complain the loudest aren’t “average.” I used to work with this pig who was 5’2” and weighed every bit of 300 pounds. She was disgusting and ate constantly. She was also loud and unhappy. One day she went off on some rant about men holding women to impossible standards of beauty and had the audacity to characterize herself as “a bigger girl with curves”. Bullshit.

This woman didn’t have curves, she had a circumference. She’s the reason Pluto was downgraded and if Mercury doesn’t shape up she’ll bump it off the list next. The problem is, if this bitch gets any fatter the solar system will start revolving around her. She already has a ring of debris orbiting around her. It’s mostly bread crumbs and that orange cheese powder that falls off or Doritos but I think I saw a couple of Milk Duds in there after Halloween and I know a doughnut got caught in her gravitational field one day but she ate it before it could establish an orbit.

And that’s the problem. Women like her need to feel bad about how they look. They shouldn’t excuse themselves for being morbidly obese. Having a little junk in the trunk is not only acceptable, it’s desirable…but when a pair of coulottes looks like a thong you’re draggin’ too much wagon. Way too much. I like big butts, but I can’t abide by fat asses. Queen Latifa is the classic example of a big beautiful woman but ad another 20 pounds to that frame and you’re crossing the line. In fact, when Queen first broke through in the rap business back in the late 1980’s she was a little heavier and much less attractive. She’s lost quite a bit of weight but It’s quite obvious that she’s not skipping any meals. And that’s a good thing.

The reason emaciated models are the norm is because they are an impossible standard. Obese women can resign themselves to never being able to get that skinny. Fat women love stories of anorexia because they get to pat themselves on the back for resisting the siren call of physical beauty while they scarf down another Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Then, when nobody will date them for fear of getting stuck in a fold, they blame their problems on men.

So stop beating men up for the image of feminine beauty our society subscribes to. Men have long been known to happily take whatever they can get. If women would reject dangerously skinny actresses and models, men would ogle their beefier replacements with the same juvenile zeal.

Out there and loving every minute of it.

A growing trend in Hollywood is the public outing of gay celebrities. Apparently the idiot public is supposed to be stunned when it's revealed that somebody like Lance Bass is gay. Like we didn't see that coming.

When you consider the lifestyle that a celebrity has to live it's actually a wonder that more aren't gay. Not too many straight men are willing to sit in a chair and get worked over by a hair and makeup team every day. Maintaining celebrity status is such a critical part of staying on top of the business that most stars have to treat every waking minute like a photo opportunity which means all stars, even the macho ones, have to primp and preen at all times. Even if a guy goes into the business straight it's got to be impossible to stay that way. One bad shot of a studly star covered in powdered cheese dust and a career is in the tank.

The only straight guys who have a chance are the character actors who are expected to be a little homely but the artsy nature of the business tends to attract the theatrical personality only repressed homesexuality can hone.

Sure there are straight Hollywood couples but how long do they last? A typical Hollywood marriage last about as long as a typical fling in the real world. Marriage is not so much a binding agreement as it is a press release. Hollywood couples seem to get married in order to capitalize on public interests. Timing is everything. Marriages are quickly finalized at the exact moment interest in that couple trends downward, then they get to ride the marriage spike.

Children aren't even a sign of heterosexuality. Kids are easy money. Brad Pitt and Angelina sold first dibs on baby pictures for more money than David Schwimmer has seen since he walked off the set of Friends for the last time. Tom Cruise, who has emphatically declared his heterosexuality by marrying a mime, held out for quite some time with his baby pics before accepting the fact that his baby, who is butt ugly, wasn't worth as much as Brad's.

Homosexuality is so natural in Hollywood it almost seems as though these dramatic public outings are designed to catapult B-list stars back on to the A-list. Think about Lance Bass. Aside from a handful of 300 pound virgins who dreamed that Lance would romantically deflower them who really thought he was straight. The shocker is that Justin Timberlake hasn't been outed yet. Lance was a distant memory just before he was outed in a gossip blog and for about three days the story had him in the news. He parlayed his trauma into a couple of interviews, posed for some pictures and milked his popularity just long enough to make his break up with his lover a public matter. Now he's back to being a has been.

The men are just following a trend the women milked 10 years ago. After wearing out lesbianism women moved on to parental abuse, psychological trauma and now woman have come back around to eating disorders. Everybody wants to be the next Karen Carpenter. You can bet that 10 years from this very day Ethan Suplee will weigh in at a gaunt 100 pounds.

The Smell of Christmas

"Children, behave!" screamed Mrs. McGowan. But she'd already lost control of the class. It all started when Scott Headley turned a stunning shade of red seconds before ripping a loud one during the midst of a threat-induced silence. The entire class probably believed they would remain silent until that pre-holiday break dismissal but no child can resist the siren call of the wind. Like it or not farts is funny.

It wasn't just a fart, mind you, this was an epic, echoing emission that featured an engaging structure similar to a short play. There was a defining beginning, an entertaining middle and a climatic finish. It varied in tone and pitch. It was operatic, covering at least a full octave. Those within a few feet of Scott would later claim that this fart might have had an epilogue as Scott's bowels slowly recovered from the taxing affair.

This was an experience for all the senses. It was long enough in duration to attract the eye and those who had a clear view of Scott could see his large body lifted on a small cushion of air. At least they hoped it was air. Of course there was sound, so much so that the echoes charged through the door, down the hallway and bounced off the single-pane windows at the front of the building. The rumors that the vibration was detected by the U.S. Geological Survey in Ashtabula are probably untrue, but those in the classroom felt its presence.

Mrs. McGowan heard it and went to her grave believing it was not flatus at all but a juvenile sound effect perpetrated for the sole purpose of ruining her holiday. And ruined it was for all she could think about was getting even with those horrible children in Mrs. Schaub's homeroom and maybe getting even with Schaub as well; after all it was her untimely absence that forced that unruly mob on her. McGowan was so angry she quit teaching and became a police officer in the hopes she would be able to shoot children and that's where she met her untimely demise, but that's another story for another time.

Had Mrs. McGowan stayed in the room instead of slamming the door and storming away, she would have realized that it was real. A strange aroma of eggs and bologna wafted through the air giving everybody pause. The smells were so distinct and recognizable the entire class first wondered if they were unrelated to the rectal release...perhaps somebody had opened up a lunch box. Then an odor that seemed to emit from whatever level of hell sweaty socks and dirty diapers are sent to crept into unwary nostrils and almost everybody threw up in their mouths a little.

Only one student was spared the horrifying aroma that seemed as though it would cling to everybody for decades to come. In fact, Chad DeVaughn developed an obsessive compulsive disorder linked to the experience that drives him to shower no less than four times each day. To this day, at 40, Chad can't hold down a job because nobody wants to work with somebody drenched in Old Spice. It's the only cologne strong enough to mask the imaginary smell Chad believes is now embedded in his DNA.

One student, Fred Debord, was spared the smell but, moments after the last nose suffered the consequences of going to school that day, Fred suffered the cruelest fate of all. Fred had allergies. Not the fake allergies so many people claim to have so others fawn over them and ruin entire dinner recipes on their behalf, but actual allergies. Fred suffered from chronic nasal congestion and always had a concretion of boogers preventing public access to his nose. The mucus was so thick and dense that it looked like somebody had packed each nostril tight with yellow Play-Doh. Fred was a mouth breather.

At first he thought it was funny. He might have thought it ironic but as an eighth grader he had only just begun to see that word in context and didn't quite understand its complex meaning. If he really understood irony he might have held his laughter because he would have known that sometimes irony keeps on twisting. This time it twisted right back to him and he got to experience Scott's assault on the last of the senses: taste. Due to the embarrassing nature of public emissions, it's not hard to imagine a fart making somebody cry. It happens everyday. A person might not realize that the gas is there but then they reach for a folder in a meeting and out comes flatus. What do you do? Nobody knows until it happens to them. It's like asking what you would do if you were stranded on a desert island. The possibility seems so remote none of us ever really fathom it. But farts happen a lot more often. Sometimes the farter is reduced to tears while the fartees laugh uncontrollably. Tears of laughter don't count as crying. Even so, farts rarely cause true physical anguish.

Most eighth graders have no idea what mustard gas can do. Those soldiers who survived the attacks in the trenches of World War I never recovered from the horrific images of people writhing in pain as the gas slowly sucked the life out of them. Nobody died the day that Scott broke wind but when the molecules of that heinous compound bonded with the enzymes in Fred's saliva the class was witness to one of the most pitiful displays of human suffering anybody could ever imagine.

One second Fred was laughing, in that wheezy way mouth breathers laugh, enjoying a rare moment of coming out on top. His boogers had saved him. Then his eyes widened and he clamped both hands over his mouth desperately trying to prevent what had already started. Then he gagged. The combination of laughter and revulsion in the classroom turned into horror as Fred heaved and coughed so forcefully it seemed as though he might turn inside out. His compacted boogers oozed from his nostrils like thick worms and tears squirted from his eyes. He fell to the floor, writhing and gagging and crying trying to force the toxic stench from his palate.

But it was too late. For what seemed like hours, Fred's body raged against the fart trying to keep it from doing whatever it would eventually do to Fred's fragile body. If cat hair could send this poor boy to the hospital, what would something as potent as Scott's fart do to him? Eventually Fred's body just gave up and the convulsions stopped, leaving Fred in a crumpled pile on the floor sobbing. He moaned over and over, "I can taste it. I can taste it."

When it became evident Fred would survive, his misery inspired more spirited laughter. Something so profound should be appreciated in all its glory. The new round of laughter and ensuring antics such as the mocking of Fred DeBord and the nicknaming of Scott Headley drew the stern attention of Mrs. McGown who stormed back into the room to demand what everybody thought was so disgusting.

Her rage made it clear she meant business and laughter abruptly stopped which is a dangerous thing. Genuine hysterical laughter must be contained through a progression of physiological devices. Laughter should subside into chuckles and chuckles into giggles and then giggles can be carefully stifled into silence. Packing the energy of laughter into respectful silence in one fell swoop only compounds the hysterics.

Again, Mrs. McGown demanded to know the source of the laughter. In her tiny little world she must have assumed the laughter was at her expense and she intended to confront the hooligan who saw fit to make her the butt of a joke. The laughter remained trapped behind a wall of deafening silence, but you could sense the unstable nature of Mrs. McGowan's control.

"For the last time," she yelled, " What is so FUNNY?" She bellowed the last word and her face turned a pulpy shade of red that looked like the inside of a watermelon. It was clear that she was going to kill everybody if somebody didn't answer.

Mark Wright, coincidentally seated directly behind Scott, broke the ominous silence with something so outrageous and unheard of that the entire class was stunned. Even Mrs. McGowan who had assumed, up to that point, that she knew everything...after all she had a teaching degree from the esteemed Youngstown State University...was shocked by it.

Mark Wright told the truth:

"Scott farted, that's all."

He didn't laugh. He looked Mrs. McGowan right in the eye and simply told her exactly what the ruckus was all about. He was stoic. For that one moment in time (that would be a great prom theme) Mark Wright was a god.

McGowan's head seemed to spin 360 degrees and her eyes might have actually exploded in their sockets only to be instantly replaced by the second set of eyeballs everybody from her home planet had stored in the place humans have their senses of humor. Scott, upon being identified as the culprit shivered in his seat and let out a lone whimper.

McGowan stepped toward Scott and looked down on him with a degree of loathing so intense the entire class was certain Scott was going to burst into flames, which was a frightening prospect given the fact that subtle hints of his fart still lingered in the air. But Mrs. McGowan must have realized that she was on the verge of revealing her true alien identity and she reigned in her powers. "You're a disgusting pig," She seethed at Scott. "and the rest of you are a bunch of dirty little poop monkeys."

That was it. There are two things teachers should never say if they wish to maintain control over their students." Hump Day" is one and "Poop" is the other. There are lots of words and phrases that will trigger jokes and laughter but "Hump Day" and "Poop" are universal. In fact, the word "poop" tends to trigger laughter in the most serious adult. It's a funny word. Even though it's not considered a curse word, "poop" is far more powerful than the allegedly vulgar "shit".

The improperly suppressed hysteria exploded into uproarious laughter. Eighth graders were rolling on the floor in uncontrollable spasms of full-body guffawing. Guffawing! Can you imagine that? Some laughed so hard they passed out for lack of breathing only to come to and laugh again. Everybody was laughing, except for Fred who could still detect the taste of unholy death on the back of his tongue. For the rest of his life Fred existed in a semi-catatonic state mumbling incoherent things to anybody who approached him.

Again, she stormed out of the room in a huff slamming the door behind her as she left, convinced she has been lied to and that the joke was really about her. In her hateful little mind she had every intention of leaving that classroom full of idiots locked in the school over winter break to freeze to death, but the principal happened to walk by as that final class period eded and he let Mrs Schaub's homeroom go, unaware of what had happened but making a mental note to inform the cleaning crew to give room 118 some special attention.

Figuring out men.

I saw a book today that supposedly outlined a script men follow when they are cheating. It was written by two women which leads me to believe that a couple of harpies who got burned by their men decided to pen a bitch session about what happened and pass themselves off as experts.

In their case there's a good chance that their borderline lesbian relationship made their husbands paranoid and drove them to cheat, but I'll admit that most men don't need to be chased into the arms of another woman. Too many men are shameless pigs who will cheat on their wives and girlfriends if given the opportunity. Mind you most men won't pursue an affair, but if an affair finds them too many will readily oblige.

As a man, I have seen associates who are married hit on women. Sometimes this is a game played by the ego to measure viability but most of the time it's what a sub commander would call active pinging. These guys are looking for a hook up. Fortunately rejection is the most common outcome. The good news for married women is that most guys set their sights too high when they're married. It's like a minor league player taking a shot at the majors, most of the time it doesn't pan out.

Men also like to troll for potential affairs. This technique is really common in at work where men will tell attractive coworkers that their relationship is failing. Sometimes this lands a sympathetic ear and the man can set the ground work for an ongoing discrete affair. The woman he is approaching believes he is trying to untangle a complicated relationship so he can emerge unfettered while the wife at home has no idea that her husband seeking the affections of another. If the coworker is smart she'll demand to see divorce papers before she proceeds. If she's really shrewd she'll call the wife to confirm the problems.

The biggest threat to a relationship is that rare woman who seeks out married men. They take the initiative and move in aggressively. They readily remove the traditional obstacles from their end leaving fidelity resting on the foundation of love and loyalty. Even those men who resist the urge to approach women actively or passively find themselves struggling to resist the temptation of a no strings attached physical relationship.

All men are capable of cheating. That doesn't mean all men will, but most will be tempted at some point in a relationship. There's no script or formula out there and women who read books by jilted counterparts who think they have all the answers are in for a world of hurt. People are as different as snowflakes and assuming that something as simplistic as a script will apply to your situation is nothing short of irresponsible. You might not be ready for a relationship if you think these books will help.

Taking advice from a woman, especially a woman scorned is the worst thing to do. Women have a very nasty tendency of projecting their own problems on to others. If a woman believes she is in an abusive relationship she will believe you are in one as well. Some are really good at playing on insecurities and converting others to their cause. It's like a cult. A miserable, menstrual cult of man-hating.

If your relationship is damaged enough where you think you need to buy a book to figure out whether or not your man is cheating on you it would be wise to pocket the money and break it off. At that point the trust is gone. It doesn't matter if you have just cause or if you're being irrational. That relationship is no longer viable.

No, it doesn't give you that closure where you can go "Waiting to Exhale" on your man, but is that sort of drama really necessary?

Some people like to say that cheating is the symptom of deeper problems in the relationship. That's not the case. There are certainly instances where that applies but in most cases it's a matter of poor impulse control. I don't know if women share the same problem or if it's a "Y" chromosome kind of thing. I suspect women are just as flawed as men even if they won't readily admit it.

If you want to know if your man is cheating on you you're better off listening to your heart than you are listening to your friends. His friends might provide a better clue than yours. If it seems like his buddies are suddenly friendly or being a little forward in hitting on you, it might be because they know something you don't. Maybe they have reason to believe you'll be on the market soon and a test drive is in order. It sounds sick, but men aren't wired for pleasantries. In man world it's uncool to go after another man's mate so taking that risk means something isn't right. If anything it demonstrates that your man has poor taste in friends.

The bottom line is that you go into a relationship alone and nobody can help you. If they try it only makes matters worse. Your best friend won't be objective. If you can't count on your friends to help, why would you shell out 17 bucks to let a couple of bitches from New York give you bad advice.

American Direct Inc: Bringing you the latest in a long line of scams.

Let me depart from my normal mode of irreverent satire and mount my high horse so that I may impart a little bit of wisdom to the masses...at least the smattering of people who occasionally stumble across my blog. A blog that I carefully write on a surprisingly regular basis. A blog that contains a superior degree of narrative professionalism. A blog, that I humbly submit, might be among the most readable articles available in mass media. The internet is mass media. I am a journalist. Hey, if those carpet baggers on Fox can call themselves journalists I should be able to call myself one too. Hell, if they pass for journalists I should be able to pass as a brain surgeon. Ass clowns.

OK, it's bullshit. Like so much of the garbage floating out there today, but at least I'm not writing about my cat. I wouldn't do that. She made me sign a confidentiality agreement.

Moving along, I think I should start my American Direct story by providing you some background. I am what people commonly refer to as a loser. I disagree, mind you, opting to label myself as creatively efficient and even a little precocious, but I realize that there are a lot of people who don't see me that way at all. Fortunately that is a small group of people formally referred to as my family. Just kidding. Sort of.

It's not that the road I have taken is less traveled so much as it has not been a direct route. The interesting thing is that in spite of failing to take the freeway to get where so many of us go, by bending a few rules and taking a few shortcuts I am exactly where I should be. In many ways I am well ahead of where I should be. How else can you explain a 35 year-old with four grand kids? You heard me! So what's this got to do with American Direct? Wait! Who is American Direct, Inc.? And why is this Steve V. C. character continuously typing the name American Direct in his blog?

Part of it is to make that name stick in your head. American Direct. Say with me! American Direct. Incorporated. Got it? Of course you do. The other reason is that Google will catch that name in my blog and position it based on the number of times it appears in this file. I believe that American Direct deserves to be given full attention. AMERICAN DIRECT!

Denny Crane.

This ties into my life as a loser because as a loser I have been sucked into a number of scams. Like paying $300 for information on how to become an air traffic controller and earn a six figure income while flying the world for free. Right. But I was 20 and stupid. I also took several jobs that were scams. Jobs that promised to promote me to management within a few months. Then I was sent out to middle class neighborhoods to sell $1200 sets of encyclopedias. This was in the early 1990's before Al Gore invented the internet and people could look stuff up for free. I also sold junk jewelry to people at work. Wanna buy this rope chain? Scams.

I have encountered several others throughout my life, but my experience in being scammed as well as being asked to scam insulated me from being sucked in. I know when something isn't legit and I can walk away. That's a great feeling. And before you start thinking that it's easy, let me just say that it's not at all. Don't assume that scam artists are stupid people. They are often very intelligent and highly perceptive. Scam artists could probably form a club, set IQ as a qualifying factor and Mensa wouldn't get in.

Some very smart people get screwed by scams such as the one I recently observed at a company that goes by the name American Direct. They even ensconce themselves in Old Glory and feature a magnificent eagle in their imagery. Patriots don't screw people over. That's why Trugreen Chemlawn ran out and slapped American flags on their trucks and uniforms right after 9-11. I know because I even got scammed by them. But that's another story. American Direct is the here and the now.

American Direct's scheme is membership shopping. We're not talking about soft scams like Costco and Sam's Club. Those places spell it out for you and anybody who can do math can recognize that those wholesale clubs don't pass the smell test. Not unless you habitually buy 62% fat hamburgers in 30 pound packages. Nope. American Direct promises to cut you in on capitalism's dirty little secret: Factory pricing. They wave suspicious invoices and mysterious distributor catalogues in front of their marks showing them the differences between the retail price and the price the manufacturer charges for goods right off the assembly line. Which, to be honest, is a huge difference but not quite as dramatic as that portrayed by American Direct.

Now let me be above board. I don't know that American Direct, Inc. is lying about the fact that they can attain goods at a price well below the retail price. It's quite possible that they do save some money for those who agree to join the club, or co-op as they call it. In fact, I suspect that they do save just enough money to prevent them from being locked up for fraud. But their marketing tactics have scam written all over them.

First they hit you with the phone call. Basic sweepstakes telemarketing to selected zip codes that are likely to yield results. Blue collar types. Middle income. Potentially dense. They tell you that you are a guaranteed winner who will receive one of five prizes with the top prize being a BRAND NEW TRUCK!!! Notice that it's not a car. Demographics. Joe Nascar don't want no hatchback.

It's harmless. They don't want anything from you over the phone. Just let them send a brochure about the contest, which is easy to accept. A few days go by and the packet comes in the mail. Once again, it's vague. They don't tell you what they want, but to claim you guaranteed prize you have to show up and endure a "presentation". No strings attached...you are guaranteed a great prize.

Let me say that I knew this was a scam from the start. These things always are. They probably never give away the top prize and stick people with the prize of least value which is usually some certificate for a couple of nights in some motel room outside of Branson, Missouri...or as I like to call it: hell. Sorry, but rednecks and white trash converging in the same fetid sweatbox for good old fashioned "white" entertainment is not my idea of a good time. Granted they do have several options which include Orlando, Gatlinburg and Honolulu. Orlando is lard ass tourist heaven, Gatlinburg is like a KKK meeting with rides and Honolulu is a pipe dream because anybody who can afford the flight out there isn't going to want to hole up in some Days Inn 3 miles inland. Scam. American Direct.

But if that's not enough to convince you that American Direct is a scam, let's skip past the routine presentation, which includes audience participation and a lot of energy, and move right to the close. That's where the fun is. You see, they don't tell you anything about the price of membership until they have completely run through the pitch and even addressed some personal needs to get you on that hook. The price is a dead giveaway that something is amiss.

American Direct, Inc. has a two part price. The annual membership fee is only $200. Very reasonable for a club that promises to deliver savings of 50% off of the lowest retail price on the open market. In fact, I might have sprung for $200 and immediately ordered a plasma screen T.V. for $500 since that's the price they claimed I could grab it for. Even though I doubt that I would ever see it since this place had the look and feel of a fly by night operation that was only going to be in that site as long as they could book pigeons for their presentations.

But they wanted a start up fee. A one time initial payment that would help us all escape from the shackles of retail forever. After a very dramatic rally the final lock to this mystical land was revealed: $1999. That's one thousand nine hundred ninety-nine dollars. Two grand. Cha-ching. American Direct needed to secure this payment in order to pay the bills and acquire factory direct goods from every manufacturer in the world. Ouch. American. Direct. Scam. Inc.

American Direct realizes that it didn't invite wealthy people to participate in this so they can take payments on the initial installment and they claim to be willing to let you name the terms. I didn't see if they would take $10 a month for the next 200 months, but I suspect that they floated that $199 annual fee out there to set a baseline. If anybody offered less than that they had to balk. I've seen that game played before. They weren't taking less than $200. My litmus test was a little different.

I told the girl who was assigned as my closer that I needed to verify the company. She was nice and I could tell that she was just a naive little girl who got sucked into some job that was not what she thought it would be. 15 years ago I was in her shoes, working around sleazy guys in cheap gold chains with too much product in their hair. I know she wanted to jump in front of a train and I wanted to tell her that McDonald's offered a better career path. She was in the wrong place. When I politely and effectively shut her down, she deferred to one of the sleazy supervisors who walked in wearing pinstriped pants and a black silk shirt with too many buttons opened. If he weren't so young I think I would have ripped him to pieces but I laid low, played the part and stroked him to see if I could get two days to make a decision. No dice. Pay now. American Direct.

That's your cue. Any legitimate deal is going to be there tomorrow. I'm not talking about buying some collectible item or buying a prime piece of real estate. There are some purchases you have to make quickly, but a membership service is not one of them. Especially when they give you no information up front and make nothing available for public review. Anything you have to buy now, is something you can verify the actual value of now. You won't hear of American Direct unless you go to a presentation and you can't learn about how they really work unless you pay. Their website requires a password and offers no insight into their operation. SCAM!

American Direct, Inc. asks you to take a leap of faith. They require a large investment up front and provide you with no way to try them out to see if they're for real. Everything they say sounds too good to be true and in order to find out if it is, you have to hand them a check. Anybody that does is asking for trouble. If American Direct calls you, go ahead and go to the presentation. See if your key starts the Ranger, let yourself get excited about the world of direct purchasing but when they ask for your money ask them to give you three days to make a rational decision. Their answer should speak for itself. Better yet tell them that you'd like a 30 day free trial. Tell them you'll agree to pay the full membership fee up front upon delivery of your first three purchases. They won't do it. They'll give you every excuse in the book from contractual obligations to state business regulations, but they won't let your become a member until you hand them your money.

I could call the BBB or the Attorney General's office but why? First, they won't do anything. The Better Business Bureau is a bigger fraud than anything that has ever been reported to them. They do nothing outside of waste time and collect membership dues. Just like Angie's list or Who's Who among American High School Students. Pay a fee and you can be famous too. Or reputable. The AG is almost as bad. In Ohio, the AG basically collects a salary to prepare for a run at the Governor's office. They don't do a dammed thing. Except waste taxpayer dollars. And take bribes. Too bad there isn't some sort of legal official who is elected to make sure politicians do their jobs... Secondly, I don't want to bust them. I think that companies like American Direct serve a valuable purpose.

Actually they serve several. One is that they provide people with limited principals a means to earn a living. Crooks have to eat too, right? Would you rather they screw over people stupid enough to hand them money or do you find stick up men more honorable? Personally, I favor these scam artists over politicians anyday. I can protect my money from the scam artists. Politicians just take it from me. Honestly I prefer robbers to politicians. Yes, I would rather be car jacked than taxed. I would rather be gang raped, beaten and left for dead by a gang of Amish bikers than endure the endless heist that is American politics.

Another purpose is education. Julie, the girl who tried to close me at American Direct, is just a young girl trying to make her way. I respect that. She's in a bad spot and has to hate her job. I know I did. She'll figure it out and emerge a better person. She'll take a lousy experience with a crappy company and parlay that into a fine career. She'll learn not to define yourself by your job. It's the other way around and sometimes there are jobs that just aren't worth doing. Walk away. In fact, she's learning more about the real world at American Direct than she could in any business class in any college. Take that, Yale. Speaking of scams, eh?

Sorry, folks, but a college education isn't worth much more than the paper the degree is printed on. Sometimes that degree can attain a nice salary for you, but that degree doesn't mean that you aren't a complete moron. In fact, that degree sometimes inhibits your ability to realize that you're an asshole and everybody knows it. You think that paper tells you that you're smart and educated, when it actually says you took four years off while a lot of people were actually learning something meaningful. Well in my economics 101 class...Guess what, the real world is so far past Econ 101 it's not funny. You could get a PhD in Economics and still not get it. That's why these guys at American Direct don't have degrees. That's also why they are rich. Sorry, but doing keg stands every other night and skipping that 10:00 leadership class to recover is not preparing you for the real world. Going to it isn't either. Julie is getting a masters degree in life and if she can keep her chin up and push through it, she's going to be just fine.

As much as I loath the game American Direct plays, I have to respect what they ultimately accomplish. In 3 years they'll be gone on and the owners will be setting up their latest racket, but the suckers still be lining up. They really are born every minute and with NASCAR steadily sucking brain cells out of the middle class, thousands are being created every day. For every dollar they scam, soul they steal and dream they crush, five strong people will emerge a little wiser and a lot stronger. American Direct helped me hone skills I developed the hard way. Maybe Julie's building those skills right now. At American Direct.

Redneck TV

I used to think Jeff Foxworthy was a funny guy. There was a time when he was making fun of white trash and inbred hicks. Now he ensconces himself in that shroud of ignorance and laughs all the way to the bank. Larry the Cable guy started out as a parody of the stereotypical hick, but somehow he's become some cultural hero that people almost look up to.

The two of them anchor a show entitled Blue Collar TV. Somehow elevating their trivial and tired acts into some sort of working class celebration. As somebody who comes from a blue collar background I find it insulting to assume that everybody in the working class would be entertained by the stupid crap these hacks foist upon their viewing audience.

I don't begrudge these guys making money. Nothing would give me more joy than to realize a revenue source in making a complete ass of myself and if I could exploit some niche market to maintain a lucrative following I am certain I would pander to that audience too.

My issue is with the fact that there is an audience that celebrates the disagreeable negative stereotypes portrayed by these comics. When Chris Rock did his bit on the difference between black people and niggers, he didn't embrace an audience of gang-bangers and remove the satire from his act to embrace them. He was speaking to his audience of regular people of all colors. He was bemoaning the fact that a handful of jerks ruin life for everybody by perpetrating a negative stereotype. It was a biting commentary on our society that addressed the small minority of blacks who live down to negative stereotypes while skewering whites who accept that stereotype in general. Best of all it was funny.

Foxworthy used to be funny because he made fun of a segment of white society that represents a small but very negative minority. He wasn't exceptionally cruel in his comedy, but he made fun of those hopeless morons who think it's OK to leave the trash in a pile in the back yard instead of walking it out to the curb once a week. Suddenly his You might be a redneck... schtick is like some sort of anthem for the mobile home set. It's not funny when the people you're making fun of wear that joke like some badge of honor. Foxworthy doesn't care as long as the money keeps rolling in.

Larry the Cable guy has departed from his witless banter about naked grandmothers and fart induced fires to dabble in political issues but his political commentary isn't comedy or satire. Since Larry is a character who doesn't so much tell jokes as he does portray them, the political aspect of Larry the Cable guy comes across as racist and ignorant. The lines between comedy and hate-mongering are blurred.

In fact the lines between Larry the Cable guy and his creator have become blurred to the point where Dan Whitney no longer exists. In Cars the role of Mater is credited to Larry the Cable guy. The same is true in Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector. One would think that Dan Whitney, who started out with several characters he would portray, would want to have a career outside of Larry. Eventually the novelty will wear off and Larry the Cable guy will go the way of Buster Poindexter, and other fictional characters that became part of pop culture. Sure Dan Whitney will still have the money, but will he still be trying to milk that Larry the Cable guy act 20 years from now?

I suppose that the success of this genre speaks to the ignorance of the fans. Since most of those who watch Blue Collar TV wouldn't know how to spell satire much less define it, these idiots think that Larry the Cable guy is empowering in some sort of way and that being a redneck can't be a bad thing if they talk about it on TV. They are simple minded people and the comics have resorted to very simple material to amuse their audience.