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.

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 field goal attempt was so far to the left it nearly decapitated Lyndon LaRouche.

A good rule of thumb is if you've made it to 35 and your job still requires you wear a nametag, you've probably made a serious vocational error.

The soldiers kill suicide bombers. Think about that. When a guys whole thing in life is to kill himself and you get there first... you are halling ass my friends.

By and large, I think it should be a rule in the teacher employment manual that you can't go attend any event where if you took your classroom on a student field trip, they would summarily be obliterated. That should be rule No. 1.

Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but guilt is simply God's way of letting you know that you're having too good a time.