Hi, I'm Governor Gordon Walsh, and I'm here to talk to you about a sensitive subject. I'm talking about spiders.

As a former spider owner, I know how a spider can feel like a part of the family. My own spider (Cecil) was like the son I never had. Actually, I have a human son, but he's been quite a disappointment to me. My spider, on the other hand, surpassed all my expectations. Sadly, Cecil passed away in a freak Velcro accident six years ago.

It's a well-known fact that if you take care of your spider, your spider will take care of you. I'm talking lifelong friend and confidante, like Cecil was to me. Unlike my human son, who took off for Akron the day he turned 18.

When your house is full of the pitter-patter of tiny feet, you need to ask yourself: Are those limestone floors? Cement? Because those types of floors can get cold in the winter. Really cold. As cold as my human son's heart.

What I'm saying is: No one should have a cold spider on his conscience.

My Cecil was a Goliath bird-eating spider. And when you've got a big spider, keeping it warm is a big job.

That's why I invented Walsh's Octo-SuperSocks™.

Lined with Merino wool, each of these little booties slips easily over the spider's claws, completely covering the meta-tarsus, with a drawstring fastener, providing maximum warmth for all eight of my Cecil's legs. As he provided warmth to me.

Unlike my human son, who only has two legs and who can't be bothered to call his old man, not even on Father's Day.

“But Gord,” I hear you ask. “That's just the legs. How do I keep the rest of my spider warm?”

I'm glad you asked.

Heating pads? Heating lamps? Get out of the Stone Age. Your spider deserves cutting-edge Twenty-First Century technology.

I'm talking Walsh's SpiderCosy™.

“But Gord,” I hear you say. “That's just a tea cozy.”

Oh yeah? Well, tell me this: How many tea cozies do you know have eight holes for the legs? This is no crocheted crap your Great-Aunt Josie made your mom for Christmas. This is top-of-the-line, goose-down-lined waterproof fabric that shows off your spider's beautiful hourglass silhouette.

Personally, I took comfort in the knowledge that Cecil was protected from the elements when he was outside scarfing a hummingbird he'd just killed, like a real man. Unlike my human son (who has never even eaten a raw duck).

If you protect the ones you love, they will protect you. As I found out that fateful night seven years ago when a masked intruder broke into my home. Cecil and I were watching the Stanley Cup playoffs at the time, and his eight little eyes were gleaming in the light of our flatscreen. (My human son, who only has two eyes and hates hockey, wasn't home that night.)

Well, when that masked intruder climbed in the window, the first thing Cecil did was get up and start stridulating (that is, he rubbed the setae on his pedipalps, creating a distracting sound). My human son never stridulated in his life. The loser doesn't even have pedipalps.

Well, that got the intruder's attention and he just froze.

Then, Cecil rubbed his abdomen with his back legs, throwing his buttock hairs in the direction of the intruder. Some of those hairs found their mark. The buttock hairs of a Goliath bird-eater cause severe irritation to human skin. The intruder screamed and climbed back out the window. Cecil saved my life that night.

This incident inspired me to create Walsh's Booty-Bootie™. Protect your spider where it counts. Slips neatly over the posterior end of the abdomen and wicks perspiration away from the skin.

I feel obliged to point out that the hairs on my human son's ass don't do a damned thing. My human son couldn't even stand on his own two feet when he was born. Whereas Cecil was walking seconds after he hatched.

Cecil's gone now, but he left me between 100 and 200 grand-spiderlings. (I'm not sure of the exact number—they move so fast it's hard to count!) No way could my human son give me that many grandkids—not even if he visited every sperm bank in the city, which I personally drove him to and which he refused to go into.

Those spiderlings and my Walsh's SpiderCozy™ Warming Products are Cecil's legacy, ripped from my life before his time.

Unlike my son, who couldn't rip open a package of Splenda.

Remember folks: happiness is a warm spider.