Look, we're Americans: optimistic, addicted to the quick fix, constantly on the hunt for the new and exotic. It's much easier for us to accept a guy with a big white beard hawking his own custom blend of saw palmetto and squirrel dandruff that it is to hear a real doctor telling us to lay off the big macs, and get off our fat asses and take a walk every decade or so.

That kid's got an arm like Uncle Fester at an exhibition of Pre-Colombian... um, Christ, I lost it. I was going for something thick. So what's with the beard, Grizzly Fouts?

Somebody call Janet Reno - I think I just saw Donato dragging Doug Flutie into a locker room closet!

The Mexican people I know seem to respect the country in a way that many spoiled brats who were born here don't. So come on over folks, the more the merrier. But please, sign the guest book on the way in.

What do you expect from a culture and a nation that exerted more of its national will fighting against Disney World and Big Macs than the Nazis?

I still feel pangs of remorse over an insidious habit I've had since I was a teenager. About three times a week, I attend estate auctions and make insulting, low-ball bids for prized heirlooms until I'm asked to leave.

The good thing about Pittsburgh, it's a good place to be raised... it doesn't tolerate assholes. You're either a good guy or you're a bad guy... When I'm in Los Angeles having these incredibly surreal moments where nobody's saying anything and everybody's talking incessantly, I always have that Pittsburgh voice in my head - shut up, smile, get the job, move on.