THIS MAKES ME FEEL SOMEWHAT LESS XTREME

The rich, as the author of the upcoming Lance Bass/Paris Hilton blockbuster famously said, are different than you and I. For one thing, they go to Hummer camp, apparently for the priviledge of driving their $50,000 SUVs in the mud, which costs money, as opposed to the mall, which is free.

Speaking of shopping, here's what one of the participants said about her Canyonero-sized car:

"You know when you go shopping and nothing moves you?" she asked. "Then there's the time you see something, and right away know it's perfect. It's like falling in love. When I'm driving it, I feel empowered. It's the car that opens the sea for me. Now I know how Moses felt."

Yeah, Moses was pretty bummed out, what with the imprisonment of his people and ancient Egypt's generally unfulfilling retail options.

In the interest of full disclosure, I drive an extraneous, XTreme-styled SUV myself (but don't worry -- it's electric), and I'm sure I cut quite the Biblical figure when I drive it to the Giant down the street, the Nissan-supplied XTreme bandana draped around my shoulders. At the same time, though, it seems like the newly idle rich now have this tendency not just to flaunt their money -- a time-honored American tradition -- but flaunt it in ways calculated to infuriate as many other people as humanly possible. We've gone from ostentation to irritation.

So when I get my $400 child tax credit check in the mail this summer, I'll have to find some equally obnoxious way of spending it (while doing my share to create those 1 million new jobs we've been promised). Maybe I'll pick up some remaindered NO SLACK FOR IRAQ mud flaps at the local Wal-Mart.

ASK FOR IT BY NAME

You know you're in for a fun afternoon at work when you walk into the office and smell the smoke from your burning computer wafting all the way down the hallway.

Hard to believe as it may seem, a four-year-old computer from one of the world's best-known and most-trusted brands -- MEGTRON (tm)(R) -- isn't the most reliable piece of mission-critical eqiupment in the world. Even before the unfortunate explosion, it would make noises alternating between the death rattle of a Soviet-era iron lung and a high school nerd's rock tumbler whenever you tried to do something inadvisable, like turn it on. I realize the folks in the MEGTRON (tm)(R) head office are probably pretty busy, what with having to fight Godzilla, but I can't help but think there's an air traffic controller out there somewhere trying to guide a 747 into a fogged-in airport using one of these suckers.

The saddest, nay, tragic part of this whole sad story? Even after the explosion, it was easily repairable, and even as I speak (or type), it's growling menacingly under my desk. Maybe it senses that Mothra is nearby...

MOOSE AND SQUIRREL

I'm way, way late to the party in bringing up Jayson Blair, the disgraced New York Times reporter who decided that the best way to avoid a work-related trip to West Virginia is to assume that everyone's house there overlooks tobacco fields. If you've been living on a desert island for the past month, or simply don't share the average journalist's narcissistic belief that everyone in the world is as interested in media gossip as the average journalist, here's an overview.

The part of this whole sorry mess that rings the most true to me as an, ahem, journalist isn't the sense of outrage at the desecration of my noble craft (picture a rendering plant on an August afternoon), or the sad realization that most people affected by Mssr. Blair's fabrications simply assumed that's the way the media goes about its business (a reasonable assumption, incidentally). No, what really bugs me is the moose.

Other writers have explained the moose in detail, but the upshot is this: At some point, Times management handed out little Beanie Baby-style meese to employees, as a reminder that they should feel free to talk about important, but often unspoken, issues. Apparently, some people actually bring them to meetings. Important meetings.

Beyond some college freelancing, I've never worked at the Times (a fact that should be glaringly obvious to anyone who's read anything I've ever done). But I've seen similar animal-related travesties at several of my jobs. At one, the editors decided to counter the complaint that there was too much "bad news" in the paper by running a graphic of a smiling cartoon dog holding a paper bearing the words "GOOD NEWS!" with any story that didn't involve blunt force trauma. At another, they handed out not meese, but little plastic fish, supposedly to symbolize the sense of fun that a fishmonger might have on the job. Some middle-management guru made a small fortune extrapolating this concept of forced workplace frivolity into a very thin book featuring very large type, ignoring the fact that, as Dilbert once pointed out, the "title characters get tossed around and eaten."

But I digress. We all got fun plastic fish. We had a naming contest, which resulted in our workplace mascot being given the name "James Pond." A good time was had by all.

Weeks later, the layoffs began.

Meanwhile, you can hear from the man himself, Mssr. Jayson Blair, minus his company-appointed moose. Oh, those wacky Inter web pranksters!

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE #47

I really, really hope this is a joke:

Lance Bass To Star In 'Gatsby' Film With Paris Hilton

So what does Lance Bass have in common with hotel heiress Paris Hilton?

Well, besides being blonde and getting invited to socialite-stuffed shindigs, the 'NSYNC vocalist and the older half of the model/actress Hilton sisters are teaming up for the latest Hollywood take on an F. Scott Fitzgerald classic.

"[It's] a remake along the lines of 'The Great Gatsby,' but younger," Bass explained at Wednesday's "Matrix Reloaded" premiere in Los Angeles. Bass will star in the currently-in-development flick, one of many he has on his plate.

Does anyone have any sense of karma anymore? Speaking of which, there's this:

"I'm writing my first horror film right now, called 'Imaginary Friend,' " he added. "It should be along the lines of that old fun Freddy Krueger-type stuff. ... We've got a nice imaginary friend-type [slasher character] that will scare the bejesus out of ya'."

That would be F. Scott himself, back from the grave. And he's gonna be pissed.

BEST. NOVEL. EVER.

Thanks to the Internet web screen machine thingy, I've finally managed to find the book The Washington Post called "the worst novel in the world" (at least until my own masterpiece of contemporary fiction comes out). The sad thing? I actually read quite a bit of it.

The Great American Parade is apparently a satirical novel of ideas that, so far as I can tell, involves lengthy discussions of progressive income taxation, complete with every novelist's favorite plot device, the numerical chart.

Of course, any novelist worth his or her salt knows not to rely on such flashy, Harlequin romance-like gimmicks as -- and this isn't a joke -- a fictional conversation with Barbara Streisand in which the protagonists complement her on an article she wrote on social issues. No, you also have to be able to write credible dialogue. Like this:

"What can be done?" Rumsfeld anxiously asked Cheney, as they both saw the color rising in Bush's face.

"Not a damned thing! Not a damned thing!" Cheney replied, teeth clenched, face reddened in outrage. "This whole damned affair has gotten out of hand-but what can we do? It's all on camera. It's in every living room in the country. Right now! And, God damn it, it's being watched everywhere else in the world!

"And we're here to celebrate America's achievements-and its most notable achievers! What a mockery these damned college students are making of our parade!" he continued, seething with anger.

"And of us-of all of us!" lamented Colin Powell at his side.

And they would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for those meddling kids!

So maybe the folks at The Washington Post have a point. Of course, the same august publication once singled out this Web site for generally favorable attention, so there's no accounting for taste.

HATS OFF

At the end of last year, I switched jobs. Sadly, the magazine I used to edit is now no more.

I was actually quite proud of TechNews, mainly because of the way we attempted to cover abstruse technologies in an entertaining, engaging way -- and you haven't gotten abstruse until you start talking about folder pin-post bushings on printing presses. Nor have you gotten truly retentive as an editor until you determine that the hyphen in the above sentence goes between "pin" and "post." We tried to make this stuff fun, and had fun in the process.

A moment of silence, please, for the only publication that allowed its editor to reminisce at length about his fading glory days of watching ink trucks and making fun of local TV newscasts.

Come to think of it, maybe there's a reason it went under.

EH-OH...

It's no longer topical, or even particularly relevant, but this has been updated for the first time in what seems like years.

But don't thank me. Thank this Right-Thinking American.

OPERATION ENDURING NAUSEA

Some liberty-hating ne'r-do-wells say Paris--er, Freedom City, is the most romantic setting in the world. According to the folks at my favorite forum for nuanced political discussion, it's not. Instead, try the flight deck of a Floating Fortress(tm):

Us ladies here already supported President Bush... it's just been a loooooooong time since we've seen a REAL man leading the way.....and it's his manilness and values that make him so sexy.

Yesterday when GW got off the plane, all I could think was "He's so good-looking. What a cutie!" (Then I'd bounce back to "That's your president, woman. Knock it off.")

i am totally with you, that was exactly my thought. he is hot. i sent my sisterinlaw one of those photos of him and said the same thing to her, and all she said in return was "mmmmmmmm".... LOL. i admit to being pathetic, and i critcized the pathetic soccer moms for finding the bubbaloon attractive. i mean GOOD GRIEF, how can you even compare???

I guess some women just like sissy-men (evidence the popularity of Keanu Reeves and Leo DiCaprio). I want a man that looks and acts like a man. Give me Sean Connery (yes, even old and bald) or Tom Selleck any day. I like a man that makes me feel like a woman. Bush just has that manly vibe going on.

I think two of the most attractive things about President Bush is that he loves and respects his wife and family and that he looks to God for guidance. (He didn't look too bad in that suit, either.)

Then there was my favorite comment:

Manly man bump! Woo-hoo.

Justice O'Connor, get off the computer! Court is in session.

I need a cold shower. With bleach.

HAD I KNOWN, I WOULD HAVE PICKED UP A CARD

Today, freedom-hating countries like France--er, Freedom, are celebrating May Day, typically as a celebration of the working class, endless dole lines, clove cigarettes, lukewarm mystery meats, etc. Thank goodness our Right-Thinking president has found a way to rechannel all that worthless energy:

NOW, THEREFORE, I, GEORGE W. BUSH, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim May 1, 2003, as Loyalty Day. I call upon all the people of the United States to join in support of this national observance. I also call upon government officials to display the flag of the United States on all government buildings on Loyalty Day.

How can you not love all these cute little slogans and names? Hope I can get enough rest before we have to start preparing for Hate Week!