And I've always been paranoid. I can remember as a baby my mother would spin the mobile above my head and thinking..."yeah, that's coming down."

America was founded by puritans and like it or not the anti-pleasure dogma of those buckled-shoed killjoys still pervades our collective unconscious like an I-max shot of Dennis Franz's naked hairy cop ass. Hence, anything enjoyable is automatically forbidden and bad and in our panic to avoid it at all cost we become obsessed with it... like dressing up in a pink teddy and a pair of ugboots and repeatedly screaming the word 'VERBOTEN!' into a conk shell balanced on the back on a miniature pony... Oh, I see.. That would just be me.

Listen, the weather is just like Hillary's explanation for her war vote: we just don't know, do we?

We need anything politically important rationed out like Pez: small, sweet, and coming out of a funny, plastic head.

Warner had more hands in his face than an OB-GYN delivering Vishnu's triplets!

My fear of flying starts as soon as I buckle myself in and then the guy up front mumbles a few unintelligible words then before I know it I'm thrust into the back of my seat by acceleration that seems way too fast and the rest of the trip is an endless nightmare of turbulence, of near misses. And then the cabbie drops me off at the airport.

That secondary provides worse coverage than a Guatemalan HMO.