I've never met a man called Smitty who didn't work in some kind of occupation that required dirty hands. And quite frankly, I don't think I'd want to. It'd be like meeting a man named Jeeves who wasn't a butler. That would throw my world into all kinds of loopedy doops.

It's a racist world. Minorities, for the most part, are still painted in a negative light by the media. This is why missing white girls get more press than missing black girls. It sucks but it's true. Nevertheless, I still hate Barry Bonds. And I'm pretty sure I would hate him even if he was white. A jerk is a jerk.

I wonder how much time the collective grade school teachers of America spend wondering just who in the hell threw that.

The people in charge of making Runts candy really need to just suck it up, realize banana is the best flavor they got, and release a whole package of just bananas. I know I'd buy more Runts if that were the case. Man, I wish I was in charge of stuff.

The older I get, the more my hangovers take shit personally.

I got an email from a gentleman the other day. He accused me of plagiarizing something he had written. I followed his link and discovered that his article was four months newer than mine and that he had plagiarized me and just forgotten about it. He has since taken that piece down. I don't care who you are, that's funny.

I wonder how much time the teachers of grade schools across America collectively spend reminding students to stop talking.

Bill Walsh recently died. He was a great football coach. John Davidson recently died, too. He was a great mechanic. But Walsh will steal the headlines again. Even if he didn't know shit about fuel injection.

And finally, because logic and fluidity need to come up with a column idea before their midnight deadline, I leave you with the following, which a Croatian chick told me in a strip club:

“I can't blame America for all that is bad.”


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