Word of the Day: PRODIGAL (prod'-i-guhl), ADJECTIVE: Wasteful or recklessly extravagant.

Now that more details have come out about the Eliot Spitzer scandal, I am truly outraged. When I first saw the MySpace page of Spitzer's call girl, Ashley Dupre, I was all set to commend Governor Spitzer on his excellent taste (she is quite a comely woman). But then I read the numbers. He was with Ashley 8 times and spent a whopping $80,000 in total. The Government has often been criticized for overspending and running up huge deficits. The Government notoriously awards contracts to the highest bidder and ends up paying ridiculously high prices, like $4,000 for a custom-made hammer, or $150 for a screw. Now we find out that Spitzer was buying them for $10,000 each! The scariest part of the whole story is not that Spitzer is an immoral, licentious hypocrite, but that this prodigal Governor has been controlling New York State's budget for the past year. If he is willing to spend $10,000 for an hour of sex, how much has he been paying for new bridges or road repairs?

Don't get me wrong- I have no doubt that the lovely Ashley Dupre will use this notoriety to catapult herself into stardom. She will follow in the footsteps of other pop icons like Vanessa Williams, Pamela Anderson, and Paris Hilton, and will stand as a shining example of the American dream. She will show the world that even without any talent, one can succeed with just the right combination of a hot body and a complete lack of self respect. But even so, there is no way Ashley Dupre was worth $80,000. The first question the press should ask the new Governor David Paterson, is how much he would pay for an hour with Ashley Dupre. This would test his fiscal responsibility.  I have a feeling he would not pay very much, regardless of how good looking she may be. After all, to him, she is nothing more than just another fuzzy, gray blob.

Word of the Day: CLANDESTINE (klan-des'-tin), ADJECTIVE: Secret or concealed for purposes of deception.

Time for another quick election update. On the Republican side, the National League Central Division of politics, John McCain managed to heroically overcome absolutely no competition. Each of the other Republicans made a fatal mistake. Mayor Rudy Guliani decided his best strategy was not to campaign at all, and to instead spend 4 months and 40 million dollars vacationing in Florida. Mitt Romney decided to let his 7 wives campaign on his behalf. And Mike Huckabee decided to keep the name "Huckabee."

The race for the Democratic nomination is much more complicated. Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are nearly tied. Obviously, Democrats are having great difficulty deciding whether they want the first black President of the United States, or the first lesbian President of the United States. Adding to the confusion, before the nomination process even started, Florida and Michigan broke the party rules by moving up their primary dates. Everyone agreed that, as punishment, the votes in these states wouldn't count. The candidates didn't campaign in these states (except for Hillary's clandestine campaigning). The candidates took their names off the ballots in these states (except that Hillary left her name on the ballot). Now one of the candidates- I will let you guess which one- wants the votes in Michigan and Florida to count.

The issue is yet to be decided, but it is disturbing that once again Florida may decide the next President of the United States. As everyone knows, Florida consists entirely of Cubans and decrepit, old people. This became a major problem in the 2000 Presidential election, as Florida officials had no idea how to interpret the bizarre ballot results, and America did not know who won the election. Finally, in the landmark case of Bush v. Gore, the Supreme Court decided that all votes for Fidel Castro would go to Al Gore, and all votes for Franklin Roosevelt would count for George W. Bush. Thus the Government had to scrap plans to create a Department of Fake Science, and the war against SUVs turned into the war against Iraq.

Word of the Day: OPPROBRIOUS  (uh-proh'-bree-uhs), ADJECTIVE: Outrageously disgraceful or shameful.

Trying to combat sagging newspaper sales, the New York Times has tried hard over the past few years to break into a new industry: the fake news business. To compete with shows like Saturday Night Live's Weekend Update, the John Stewart Show, and the Colbert Report, The New York Times hired writer Jayson Blair, who plagiarized the stories he was too lazy to make up. He was forced to resign in 2004, but a few weeks ago the Times was back at it, making up a juicy story about John McCain having an affair with a female lobbyist. So I am skeptical of anything the Times writes, but today's story seems believable. The paper is reporting that New York Governor Eliot Spitzer was involved in a prostitution ring. And by "involved," I do not mean he was showing the young ladies the immense size of his budgetary cuts. 

Having sex with a prostitute is, of course, behavior completely unbecoming of a Governor. It is much more becoming of a Mayor. Before Jerry Springer's second career in organized redneck boxing, he was forced to resign as Mayor of Cincinnati for being caught with a prostitute (seriously- look it up). In Washington D.C., Mayor Barry was caught with a prostitute AND crack/cocaine. He was nevertheless reelected! But this is the first time a GOVERNOR has ended up resigning in disgrace for the opprobrious act of hiring a prostitute. This may be the end of Eliot Spitzer's marriage, but it doesn't have to be the end of his political career- he just needs to move to Washington, D.C., and run for Mayor.

Word of the Day: ELUDE  (i-lood'), VERB: To evade; to avoid or escape by speed, cleverness, trickery, etc.

Road rage is very common, and I am not immune. Like most people, I have hurt my hand pounding on the horn a few times. Like most people, I have spent a few years in jail for assaulting another drivers with a tire iron at a red light. I try not to get annoyed when other drivers make simple mistakes, like misjudging how much room they have when merging. After all, to err is human (and to smite people with the vengeful wrath of God is divine). What DOES irk me, however, is when people drive at exactly the speed limit and refuse to go any faster, regardless of how many cars are backed up behind them or how many traffic lights they miss. Some of these people are old. As Jerry Seinfeld famously pointed out, you would think that people very close to death would be in more of a rush to get where they're going. But even more baffling is that many of these speed-limit drivers are young or middle aged.

My theory is that these people are the hardcore criminals of society- the rapists and murderers. Anyone who has seen the show "Cops," knows that the traffic stop is the only method police use to catch serious criminals. The officer pulls someone over for a minor traffic infraction, runs the license plate, then comes back to the car and says "sorry, John Williams of 142 East Main Street, but you have 8 felony warrants outstanding for bank robbery, distribution of crack, and genocide in Darfur. We could have just gone to 142 East Main Street and arrested you at any time, but we don't actually enforce warrants. We knew that someday you would slip up and roll through a stop sign, or run a red light. So NOW you are going to jail." Thus, smart criminals know that as long as they wear their seat belts, drive at the speed limit, and obey all traffic laws, they can get away with any crime, indefinitely.

Here is another tip for criminals. You may have noticed that criminals in high-speed chases NEVER get away. This is because of the news helicopters tracking the suspect's car. No matter how many police cruisers the criminal manages to elude, he can't outrun a news chopper. So, if you find yourself in a high speed chase, use your cell phone to call in a fake news story to one of the major networks. Make sure the story is truly newsworthy. "I just saw Brittany Spears stumbling through the park, high on crack... and she wasn't wearing any underwear." The news choppers will race off to the park, to cover the story, and with a few Luke Duke maneuvers, you will be home free. Just make sure that for the rest of your life, you drive at exactly the speed limit, no matter how many people behind you are honking their horns and screaming obscenities.

Word of the Day: CONDENSE  (kuhn-dens'), VERB: To shorten or abridge.

Driving to Starbucks today, I spotted a man on the side of the road, dressed in army fatigues, holding a sign that read "Iraq veteran- will work for money to feed my family." At first this made me sad, but then it occurred to me that perhaps this man has hit upon a brilliant new job search method. Whereas bulk resume services will charge a hundred dollars to mail out a few hundred resumes, my war veteran friend is getting out his message to thousands of passing drivers, absolutely free. He does not have to cope with the slew of rejection letters that litter the mail of most job hunters. Moreover, if a potential employer is interested, he can get an immediate interview, right there on the side of the road. The interested driver just needs to pull over, roll down the window, and start asking questions: "Excuse me sir, how do you feel your military experience will make you management material? What would you say is your greatest weakness?" In fact, it would not surprise me if this brilliant idea catches on. Perhaps tomorrow the side of the road will be cluttered with men in suits, holding giant signs with their resumes printed on them.

I decided to test whether the strategy works for other searches, such as my search for love. It was difficult to condense my profile into a reasonably sized sign, but I finally went with "SWM seeks LTR; likes long walks on beach , blogging, and hiking." (OK, the only hiking I do is between the couch and refrigerator, but I thought it would make me sound more manly). So I spent the afternoon on the side of the road, holding my sign, and waiting for the beautiful ladies to start pulling over. Unfortunately, it didn't go as well as I had hoped. A few drivers shouted obscenities (but these were mostly men). A few others threw loose change at me, and one even tried to run me down. The war veteran guy got quite a chuckle from that incident. Perhaps I will just stick with eharmoney.

Word of the Day: MALINGER  (muh-ling'-ger), VERB: Pretend to be sick or injured to avoid duties.

As a kid, like most little boys, I always dreamed of being a professional athlete someday. But unlike other kids, I never wanted to be a star athlete. I never wanted to be Joe Montana, throwing the winning touchdown in the Superbowl or Kirk Gibson, smacking a huge World Series home run. Instead, I dreamed of being the 3rd stringer that nobody has ever heard of, who sits comfortably at the end of the bench, never gets in a real game, and collects the league minimum salary. I was a smart kid. The league minimum salary in the lowest paying sport, hockey, is now $450,000. For doing absolutely nothing (perhaps fetching Gatorade every so often for the real players) these bench warmers make the same salary as partners in large law firms- lawyers who slave away 90 hours a week and who only see their wives every few months at conjugal visits in the firm trailer. These lucky, nameless, back-ups to the back-ups get paid over four times the salaries of less useful members of society like teachers, doctors, or police officers.

Needless to say, my current hero is Shawn Bates, a hockey "player." If you are not a fan of the New York Islanders hockey team, you have no doubt never heard of Shawn Bates. If you are one of the estimated 423 Americans who IS a fan of the New York Islanders, you have also probably never heard of Shawn Bates. This is because he never plays. A hockey season consists of over 80 games. For several years, Bates would play the first ten or so games and then miss the rest of the season with a groin injury. According to the Islanders' announcers, if not medical science, a man has two groins- a left and a right. So Bates would switch off which one he injured each year. In fact he has had his groin talked about on TV more than any human not named Brittney Spears. This year he added a hip injury to the usual groin ailment and is now out for the season after playing a grand total of 2 games. I am not saying he is a malingerer. Perhaps his injuries are real. But what I do know is that he never plays and makes an annual salary of-I am not making this up-$1,200,000! For the math challenged, that is over a million dollars, enough to afford a huge mansion with a butler (who, needless to say, calls him "Master Bates").

Word of the Day: CURMUDGEON  (ker-muhj'-uhn), NOUN: Crusty, ill-tempered, irascible person.

First, I must apologize for last week. I was sick as a dog (No, I am not sure why a dog should be particularly sick) and the doctor warned me to stay in bed and that any blogging could result in severe injury. But now I am better, and I promise to update this blog as much as possible, consistent with my time constraints and lazy temperament.

The weekend news was dominated by the fact that someone staying in a Las Vegas Extended-Stay found some Ricin that a previous guest had left in his room. Ricin is an extraordinarily  toxic substance. It is 1,000 times more lethal than cyanide, and an amount of ricin that would fit on the head of a pin is enough to kill a man. After writing a VERY nasty email to hotels.com, the man brought the ricin to the guy at the front desk, who promptly alerted the FBI.

Imagine the embarrassment of the terrorist who left his ricin in the hotel room. "Honey, where is my ricin. I told you to bring the rest of the bags from the hotel room out to the car! Now how am I supposed to do my terrorism, without my ricin? I am going to get fired when Osama finds out about this. Is that what you want? You want me to get fired? By Allah, you are my least favorite wife!"

The entire incident has reaffirmed my belief that we desperately need an old, wrinkly, Republican, curmudgeon in the White House. We need a cranky old bastard like Dick Cheney, who drinks ricin for breakfast and  whose favorite sports are huntin' and launching missiles at terrorists (and in both cases isn't picky about who he hits). We need someone who can strike fear in the hearts of the terrorists. Someone like John McCain, who is liable to have a bad  war flashback and blow up  Vietnam. I don't care if they listen in on my phone conversations or make abortions punishable by death or make it legal for oil executives to eat illegal aliens. I will be happy as long as our next president  keeps ricin out of my Diet Coke supply. 

Word of the Day: TEMERITY (tuh-mer'-i-tee) NOUN: Reckless boldness; rashness.

I love Starbucks. I drink it so much a former boss once asked me if I would like him to skip the middle man and send my paycheck directly to Starbucks.  Unlike Shylock, when you prick me I leak hot caramel macchiato. when I go too long without consuming a heavily caffeinated, venti SOMETHING, I get a splitting headache and I grow a third arm that pops out from my stomach, beats people to death, and steals their coffee. (Caffeine addiction GETS what caffeine addiction WANTS).

One of the reasons I have supported Starbucks for so long is the sheer temerity of building a business around selling a thimble full of coffee and a cup of steamed milk for FIVE DOLLARS! You have to respect that level of audacity. (How do you say chutzpah in Fritalian?). The latest promotion is a drink called the "skinny latte." This beverage has no sugar so, whereas a normal latte contains 1,562 calories, the skinny latte only has 984. This is welcome news to the 84% of America that is disgustingly obese (this figure is based on a scientific observation I recently performed in a local Wal-Mart) because now we can all have an extra toffee-nut-powdered-donut-pancake-surprise with our morning lattes.

Now that the health revolution has hit Starbucks, it is only a matter of time before the company finds a Jared-like spokesman to promote the skinny latte. This spokesman must be a charismatic, formerly obese man who has shed hundreds of pounds by drinking 3 skinny lattes a day (and injecting himself with heroine. But, like Subway, I am guessing they won't mention the heroine part in the commercials). Except for the charisma, the "formerly," the shedding hundreds of pounds, and the heroine, I fit the spokesman description perfectly. I have therefore made it my mission to land this role and have officially embarked on the skinny latte diet. I will keep you updated on my progress (and/or severe illness and ensuing lawsuit against Starbucks for blatant failure to warn the public not to go on a skinny latte diet).

Word of the Day: EXIGENT (ek'-si-juhnt), ADJECTIVE: Demanding immediate attention; urgent; pressing.

Flipping through the TV stations today, I noticed that the American Embassy in Serbia was on fire. It seems that Kosovo recently declared itself an independent nation. Enraged at this action by Kosovo, the Serbians lit the American Embassy on fire. This reaction, of course, makes perfect sense to the majority of the world.  In fact, blowing up the American Embassy is the official sport of every nation in the world except Canada and France (where it is hockey and 50 meter ice-prancing, respectively).

The incident made me wonder how I would react if one of America's states declared independence. The first thing I would do, obviously, is firebomb the Serbian Embassy. Depending on the amount of rioting in the streets, I would then effectuate my plan for exigent circumstances. Inspired by what happened with Hurricane Katrina several years ago, I created a carefully planned kit for all emergencies (floods, hurricanes, nuclear attacks, alien invasions, Hillary Clinton being elected President, etc.). The kit consists of a wheelbarrow and a list of stores to loot. While the rest of the town is foolishly evacuating or taking cover, I will be at Best Buy with an arm full of plasma TV's.

Depending on the state that breaks away from the Union, there may be no rioting or strong reaction at all. Nobody is going to shed tears over losing New Jersey. Nobody would even notice losing states like Kansas or Kentucky. In fact, pretty much everything between New York and California is expendable. Sure, if we lost this middle region there would be no more guests for Springer, NASCAR would have to declare bankruptcy, and administering DNA tests to clear up uncertain parentage would no longer be a viable industry. But I still think America would survive.

Word of the Day: STAUNCHLY (stawnch'-lee), ADVERB: In a firm, steadfast manner.

Last week I wrote a blog regarding the "romance tax" known as Valentines Day. Readers responded by sending me a great deal of angry e-mail (most of which had return addresses ending in "@hallmark.com"). I want to assure anyone who took exception to my attack on Valentines Day that you are completely and utterly wrong. In fact, I am beginning to see that the problem extends way beyond one day. The entire relationship process is nothing more than a disgraceful, money-making enterprise.

Let's review the life cycle of a typical relationship. First, the woman catches the man's eye and immediately begins to enjoy free drinks, free meals, Valentines presents, and other wooing-related perks.  Next, the man proposes to the woman by handing over a godzillion dollar diamond ring. Now the man can finally get in on the freebie action because the couple then throws an engagement party at which all their friends must bring gifts. A year or so later the woman's family forces her friends to fork over more free gifts at a "wedding shower." Next, the couple has a wedding, often paid for by the parents. Here, the couple asserts its complete dominance over the friends by forcing them to dance like chickens... and bring gifts. The couple then waits a while (so that nobody catches on to the nefarious scheme) and then the woman becomes pregnant. This entitles her to a "baby shower" at which her friends must bring... you guessed it... more gifts. About 9 months after strategically becoming pregnant, she gives birth. By this time the couple has almost no friends left. However, the few remaining friends are expected to buy one last gift for the birth, before declaring bankruptcy.

After all that, most couples quit their jobs, sell the thousands of gifts they have accumulated, purchase a house in the Hamptons, and live out their lives quite comfortably with the gift proceeds. But the truly greedy couples will actually get a divorce and start the entire process over with new co-conspirators. This is why I staunchly support a Constitutional Amendment to ban straight marriage.

Word of the Day: WINDFALL (wind'-fawl), Noun: sudden, unexpected gain or good fortune.

Today I received a notice in the mail stating that I may be the victim of identity theft, and I couldn't be happier about it. Apparently, someone stole a hard drive from a certain university I once attended. I don't want to publicly embarrass this college by giving you its name, but here is a clue: It was established in 1789, it is located in our Nation's capital, and the sign in front of it says "Georgetown." For some reason, the stolen hard drive contained my name, address, social security number, major credit card numbers, age, weight, shoe size, number of sexual partners, and favorite color (it's a mauvish teal, for those who were wondering).

I am not yet certain that the hard drive thieves have stolen my identity. For one thing, this blog still sounds very much like it is being written by the real me, though i can't be sure. (NOTE- readers can assume that any future blogs containing inappropriate language and/or bad jokes were written by the identity thief, not by the real me). Also, I have not noticed anything unusual on my credit card. I took the "complimentary" subscription to the credit reporting company recommended in the notice. By complimentary they mean I can check my credit report whenever I want so long as I make 3  "easy payments" of $19.95. This, of course, is far better than the price everyone else pays- 3 "hard payments" of $19.95.

If the thieves do steal my identity, it will be quite a windfall for me. I can simply throw the stack of bills I get each month back into the mail with instructions to forward to the REAL Doug. I can let the identity thief deal with the 30 daily calls I get from collection agencies. I can let the identity thief figure out how to juggle the paltry sums in my bank accounts to pay off massive student loan and credit card debt. I can laugh as the identity thief suffers the frustration of being rejected for credit and new accounts. In fact, I am quite sure that after a few months the identity thief will be offering to pay me large sums of money to take my identity back.

Word of the Day: AUDACITY (aw-das'-i-tee), Noun: Nerve or daring; shameless boldness.

Last week the TV and movie writers strike ended. The writers went back to work, presumably with a big raise. These people deserve more money about as much as Lynne Spears (momma Britney) deserves the "mother of the year" award. It should be noted that Lynne Spears was actually planning to release a book on parenting (I am not making this up), but the project was scrapped when her 16-year-old daughter, Jamie Lynn Spears, announced that she was pregnant. When reached for comment in her Los Angeles asylum, Britney Spears tried to swallow the microphone and screamed incoherently at the voices in her head.

The point is that the writers should all be shot. (And by "shot," I actually mean they should be brutally tortured by being tied to a chair and forced to watch a typical CBS prime time lineup, after which they should be... shot). TV and movies are just awful. Most of what comes out isn't even original- it is repackaged garbage from ten years ago. For example Terminator is now the "Sarah Conner Chronicles." The movie "Rambo" is now the movie "Rambo." Except in the latest installment, Sylvester Stalone goes on an insane killing spree to avenge the theft of his dentures. The man has arm-flab, for God's sake! I don't care how much human growth hormone they pump into him, when the only plausible stunt double they can find is the drummer from the Rolling Stones, it is time to stop taking roles as an action hero. Last night, CBS actually aired a remake of Knight Rider, one of the worst shows in the history of television. They didn't even ask David Hasselhoff to be part of the project. When reached for comment, Hasselhoff screamed incoherently in German and tried to drink the microphone.

When the writers aren't recycling garbage from the 80's, they are busy creating a whole new generation of garbage. AMC recently introduced the aptly named "Breaking Bad," the perfectly believable story of a high School Chemistry teacher who finds out he has terminal lung cancer and decides to provide for his family after his death by making and selling crystal meth, out of an RV in the New Mexico desert. The fact that life insurance is readily available in the United States does not seem to phase the Breaking Bad writers, who I can only surmise were smoking plenty of their own crystal meth when they came up with this show.

Of course, the most popular shows are "reality TV" shows. Because we are too lazy to get off the couch and go experience real life, the networks have courteously brought reality to our couches. The ultimate reality TV experience takes place in the 10 seconds a day when the TV is turned off, when the viewer can see the reflection of a 400 pound man with one hand in a bag of Cheetos and the other hand furiously searching for the remote control to turn reality back on.

The word to describe the writers of the junk we see on TV demanding more money is audacity. It is approximately the Yiddish term, "chutzpah." It is what the Spanish might call "cojones." It is what people from Brooklyn might call... well, you'll have to tune into reality TV to find that out.

Word of the Day: MISOGYNY (mi-sog'-uh-nee), Noun: Hatred, dislike, or distrust of women.

In all fairness, Paris Hilton should be the next President of the United States. Before you laugh, hear me out. Eight years ago, George W. Bush presented his credentials to the American people: A beer guzzling, cocaine sniffing member of a very rich family, who held a bunch of high profile jobs, such as owner of the baseball team his father bought for him. Granted, he had some political experience. But the major responsibilities of the Governor of Texas are to flip on the office light switch each day—this switch actually powers the electric chair of the Texas State Prison—and to frequently fire two six-shooters into the air while yelling “yeee-haww.”

Paris Hilton is just as qualified. Like Bush, she can’t spot North America on a world map, loves words like “nucular,” and “y’all,” and lists “hanging out” and “drinkin” as her top hobbies on her Myspace page. Paris has held numerous responsible jobs--businesswoman, actress, singer, porn star, runner up in the Southpark whore-off, etc.—and has strong views on prison reform. The religious transformation Paris underwent, during her traumatic 23 days as a political prisoner in a Los Angeles jail, should play well with the religious right. When asked by Larry King for her favorite bible verse, Paris gave a very Bush-like, politically savvy response: “ummmm… I don’t really have one.” Obviously she didn’t want to offend the Genesis fans or Book of John fans by belting out a quote from, say, 2nd Corinthians. Pure political genius!

So why does America treat Paris Hilton differently than George W. Bush? Sexism. There are many Americans out there who hate women and will never vote for a woman president. This blatant misogyny is preventing America from reaping the benefits of a Paris Hilton presidency. You may say that the popularity of Hillary Clinton shows that Americans don’t hate women. But Hillary Clinton has more testosterone in her than the entire 2007 Miami Dolphins football team, and her alleged “womanhood” has never been proven by an independent medical specialist. Congress plans to launch an investigation after it sorts out the baseball steroids scandal. In the meantime, Americans should stop being misogynistic and vote Paris Hilton for president.

Word of the Day: FRUGAL (froo'-guhl), Adjective: Thrifty; economical; avoiding waste.

When I had no girlfriend, I hated Valentines Day. It never made sense to me that lovers should buy each other gifts and have their own holiday. After all, don't the poor, lonely, single people need the affection more? On Valentines Day, couples should send their single friends flowers and consolation chocolates, perhaps in a box shaped like the number "1."  Instead, Valentines Day is all about the rich getting richer- a kick in the teeth to the single people who are forced to endure sickeningly happy couples flaunt their couplehood.

Now that I have a girlfriend, I hate Valentines Day. It is like a romance tax. I am in no mood for love after shelling out $3 for a card about as interesting as a professional soccer game, $30 for some red cardboard with a few pieces of chocolate inside, and $60 for roses that look suspiciously like the ones they sell in 7-11 for $1.99. I am not cheap-- I would just rather spend my money on something more useful, like an XBOX game, hockey tickets, or test prep tutoring, the most useful thing anybody could ever purchase. So as a pubic service, to help us all save a little money, I present the following tips for a frugal Valentines Day:

1.) Flowers come in two types: costly and wild. The wild ones are free. Like wild animals, wild flowers can be found roaming around in nature-- in parks, meadows, and neighbors' yards. Of course, not everyone is aware that wild flowers are free, so you may want to pick them late at night, and avoid doing your Valentines shopping from properties that have large trucks covered in NRA bumper stickers in the driveway.

2.) Two words: cubic zirconium. A good jeweler, armed with a degree in gemology and a microscope, can instantly tell the difference between a real diamond and a fake one. Never date a good jeweler.

3.) February 13th is an excellent day to reevaluate a relationship. Are you really happy? Is this REALLY your soulmate, the one you want to be with for years to come? If not, don't hesitate to dump him or her. After all, if you change your mind, you can always get back together with the person on the 15th.

4.) If you do truly love your boyfriend/girlfriend, propose and plan a romantic, February 14th wedding. This way, your Valentines dinner and your anniversary dinner will forever be consolidated into one check. For the hat trick, try to conceive a child in mid-May. This increases the chances that the child will be born 9 months later, on February 14th, and each year you can celebrate Valentines Day, your anniversary, and your child's birthday in one glorious trip to Applebees.

5.) It's the thought that counts, so always think expensive thoughts.

Word of the Day: GRAVITY (grav'-i-tee), Noun: Seriousness or importance.

I don't usually watch CSPAN. But today all 886 other channels on my cable system suddenly went off the air, the remote control was nowhere to be found, and a gang of CSPAN thugs broke into my house, tied me to my couch, and taped my eyelids open. So I reluctantly watched.

The reason I don't sit around watching Congress on CSPAN is that Congressmen are constantly babbling about trivial issues like the national debt, social security, crime, how to prevent foreigners from blowing us up, and which foreigners we should be blowing up. YAWN. But today, the U.S. Senate finally took on an issue that has some gravity: whether  Yankee's pitcher Roger Clemens took steroids. Finally, our tax dollars are being spent on something truly important.

The controversy seems to center around Clemens' butt. (No, that is NOT the word of the day). Clemens' trainer, Bryan "wormtail" Mcnamee claims he injected Clemens' butt with human growth hormone, a performance enhancing drug. Clemens claims the injections were wholesome shots of vitamin B-12. Imagine Clemens' embarrassment when the Senators informed him that Centrum now makes vitamins in pill form that you can just swallow. Wormtail  also  claimed that he gave human growth hormone to Clemens' wife, a model, to help her get in shape for a photo shoot in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. This, of course, is an obvious lie. Everyone knows that human growth of any sort is the surest way to kill a modeling career.

If you are wondering what any of this has to do with the United States Senate, you are not alone. The only connection I can think of is former Senator Bob Dole, who is the spokesman for his own performance enhancing drugs. In any event, after four hours of testimony it was still unclear who won the lying contest. But the true winner was CSPAN, which broke its all-time, single day ratings record with well over 17 viewers. Speaking of gravity and butts, while the rest of the Senate was distracted by baseball, Hillary Clinton elected herself Grand Imperial Queen Goddess of the United States.