Ladies and Gentlemen
—
The Phil Hendrie Show!

By Lars Trodson

I was googling down the radio dial some months ago —
searching for something, anything, to listen to — and
I only had to briefly and lightly touch upon any show I came
across to know I didn’t want to visit very long.

I
heard the grating voice of Laura Ingraham saying — "…and
that liberal blowhard Ted Kennedy —" Click.

Millionaire Rush Limbaugh saying — "…and what
the liberal media elite won’t tell you about Ted Kennedy
is —" Click.

The subtle voice of Howie Carr wafted over the airwaves,
"… and Ted Kennedy down there in Washington —"
(heard with sound effects of a beer being poured.) Click.

Sean Hannity (who is still upset the verb ‘Hannitize’
never, ever caught on) reminded listeners, "…while
trashing Judge Alito, Ted Kennedy must have taken the time
to forget Chappa-" Click.

I then heard Mike Savage asking people to "…tell
Ted Kennedy that liberalism is a mental disorder…"
Click.

Bill
O’Reilly offered the enlightened position that
"…Ted Kennedy is a pinhead —" Click.

Matt Drudge took the time to tell his listeners that "…Clinton
defender Ted Kennedy fell on the floo-" Click.

Ann Coulter, the lawyer, can never forget that "…Harvard
kicked Ted Kennedy out of —" Click.

Click. Click. Click.

Oh, my God! Really! Ack! Who has time to listen to any of
that? I’ll save you some time: liberals are terrible
people, awful people, with no morals, (if not downright treasonous).
Don’t vote for them. There. I’ve saved you hours
of valuable time this week.

And then something strange happened. I stopped googling.
(I know, I know; I’m just using that word because it
amuses me). As I was about to go on to the next station, I
hesitated in order to listen to the strangest interview I
had ever heard on the radio.

A kid by the name of RC Collins, who claimed to be a military
cadet, was complaining about having to go to a concert in
a classmate’s car, which he considered beneath him when
his own parents had a BMW at home they wouldn’t let him
drive. I could not for the life of me make heads or tails
out of the conversation, but suddenly, inexplicably, I started
to laugh. Not just mild little titters, but body-rocking convulsive
laughs.

What was this?

It was, ladies and gentleman, Phil
Hendrie. And I found him on the dial at 930 AM, WGIN
out of little old Rochester, N.H. at 10 p.m. each weekday.
Hendrie’s syndicated show is based out of California.

Now, after my first initiation to Hendrie, I went back night
after night to further my understanding of this incredible
show, and each night the same, odd thing happened … I
could not stop laughing at these truly odd, twisted interviews
Hendrie was conducting over the airwaves. First, I couldn’t
fathom where he actually found these whackos and second, I
couldn’t imagine why they stayed on the air so long.
Like the guy on an anti-drug crusade who was found with a
pound of pot in the back of his truck — a stash he later
blamed on his own son to get out of the charge. Or the man
who claimed that all men should have the DNA of their children
tested as a way to get back at their wives.

These people stay on the phone with Hendrie long enough to
get some calls from outraged listeners, and the responses
to these callers are truly demented. The conversations are
almost insanely entertaining — and way off-color sometimes,
I must say — and each night I have to take the headphones
off because rather than falling into slumber I tend to be
laughing myself further awake. So I have to quit about 90
minutes in.

It turns out there is a secret to all these interviews. It’s
shtick, for sure, but great shtick, done with heart and soul,
and I was, in fact, even more in awe of Hendrie’s talent
after I found out how he actually pulled these things off.
I won’t tell you what it is — you can find out easily
enough on the Internet — but I suggest you listen in
for a few sessions just as I did before you get too knowledgeable
about the whole proceedings.

I think Phil Hendrie is one of those great and true American
entertainers. He’s the descendant of Edgar Bergen and
Sid Caesar and Red Skelton and Flip Wilson and anybody else
who had the notion that comedy can come in many different
voices and guises. He’s a guy who has obviously honed
his craft over the years, paid attention to what he’s
doing and how he’s doing it (just like those earlier
guys), and is committed to the idea that if you spend any
time at all listening to his show he’s going to give
you your money’s worth. He should be an American institution
and I think in some comedy circles he may be considered as
such.

Give The Phil Hendrie Show a listen (and turn your political
education over to the local issues in your town rather than
listening to those national shows) — and phone in to
tell Hendrie you want to hear ‘We Built this City (On
Rock and Roll’) by Jefferson Starship sometime. I’ll
be listening in, amused to no end, with what he has to say
to that.

Lars Trodson can be reached at larstrodson@comcast.net.
Any and all criticisms about the blandness of radio do not
apply to the great local station WSCA-LP, 106.1 on your immediate
FM dial.

This column is my first to appear in the print edition of the Boston Herald, where I am employed as a copy editor.

Super Bowl,
Extra Large

By John Breneman

The Super Bowl’s growing status as America’s quintessential
cultural event is exquisitely expressed in this year’s super-suffix,
XL.

Everything about the Super Bowl is extra large.

TV officials say as many as a billion people worldwide will
fill the virtual coliseum on Sunday to see our superpower’s
body-armored millionaires crash together in a roman-numeraled
orgy of consumerism, commercialism and celebrity egomania.

The satellite feed will be gobbled up by 234 countries in
32 different languages, with subtitles for viewers in Europe,
Asia and parts of Arkansas. It will be close-captioned for
the pigskin-impaired.

U.S. intelligence has picked up some chatter that Al Jazeera
is planning a broadcast ("American Gridiron Devils XL"),
in which the traditional ads for Viagra, Levitra and Cialis
will be replaced with commercials for a debilitating condition
called "Iraq-tile dysfunction."

Oh,
the commercials. Veteran Super Bowl watchers know that just
as important as the game itself is the slick Madison Avenue
subplot, in which mega-corporations shell out $2.5 million
a pop for 30 seconds exposure to those millions of eyeballs.

Which computer or car or beer maker will charm us with a
talking lizard or flatulent Clydesdale? A spokesman for ABC
declined comment other than to say, "Cha-ching."
But industry analysts say they expect the award for "Best
Performance in a Lame Commercial" to come down to either
P. Diddy or Miss Piggy.

The 164-hour pre-game show will feature analysis by everyone
from Paris Hilton ("Tom Brady is hot") to the Rev.
Pat Robertson ("God will strike the Seahawks down 27-13").

Legendary defensive linewoman Aretha Franklin will belt out
the national anthem, joining such legendary performers as
Barry Manilow (XVIII), Kathie Lee Gifford (XXIX) and The Backstreet
Boys (XXXV) in the pantheon of Super Bowl anthem singers.

Super Bowls are notorious for their halftime extravaganzas
and ABC has pledged this year’s gaudy intermission will be
"the most annoying halftime show ever." The legendary
Rolling Stones Inc. will play at halftime, joining such legendary
performers as Carol Channing (IV), New Kids on the Block (XXV)
and Queen Latifah (XXXII) in the pantheon of Super Bowl halftime
entertainers.

Also at halftime, the Steelers and Seahawks cheerleaders
will team up for a high-kicking, knee-snapping salute to the
anterior cruciate ligament.

Betting on the game, except in Nevada, is illegal — to the
tune of an estimated $6 billion a year, according to the Detroit
News. That’s enough cash to buy an official Super Bowl XL
fleece and a batch of official Super Bowl XL nachos for every
hungry child in the world.

Now I don’t want to give away all the surprises (but wait
till you see Oprah flatten Arnold Schwarzenegger and Woody
Allen in the annual Celebrity Punt, Pass and Kick contest).

Finally, amid all the hype we must not forget about Super
Bowl safety.

The battle at Ford Field will be protected from a terrorist
attack by the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD),
according to the Associated Press, and imaginary sources say
President Bush will appear via satellite, offering pointers
on how novice fans can avoid the ever-present danger of choking
on a pretzel.

Medical experts suggest that if you should suffer a dislocated
jaw from consuming mass quantities of chili, beer, chips,
finger sandwiches, shrimp, Coke, Pepsi, Cool Ranch Doritos,
sausages and/or beer, simply motion for a teammate to stiff-arm
the loose mandible back into place. Then resume eating and
grab another beverage. Extra large.

Word
gamers unite

By Chris Elliott

Linguistics observations on news of the day may only appeal
to the most ravenous of verbivores, but at the risk of boring
my constituency this week, I’d like to point out a few
of them, the first being that the names Oprah Winfrey and
James Frey end with the same four letters. That’s about
as ironic as slamming into a bridge abutment while adjusting
your seat belt.

It is also worth noting that Oprah Winfrey’s name has
as one of its anagrams the phrase, "Why I fear porn."
James Frey’s name in the anagram finder, like the experience
of trying to get through his trite, redundant book, is no
fun at all.

On
that subject, word gamers have shed a collective tear at the
panoply of anagram generators on the Web. There once was a
time when only those willing to slog through the tedium of
dreaming them up could note that as a writer, the letters
in the name William Shakespeare can be rearranged to spell,
"We all make his praise."

Moving right along, am I the only one to notice that the
name Jack Abramoff begins with "Jack" and ends with
"off"? Probably. Still, the irony of a lobbyist
who so deftly stroked the system having that as a feature
of his moniker is as obvious as Kerry’s pandering threat
of an empty filibuster regarding Samuel Alito’s regrettable
but inevitable confirmation as associate justice of the Supreme
Court.

Why regrettable? My spiritual adviser, and likely go-to guy
as my phone-a-friend if I’m ever on "Who Wants to
Be a Millionaire" put it well in a recent letter. "You
don’t want your high school valedictorian on the Supreme
Court," he wrote. "The valedictorian is an ultra-smart,
out-of-touch cube; a bright, hard-working, well-meaning, well-behaved,
country-loving, God-fearing cube. It’s just 10 or 15 spots
too high in the class rankings to be a good justice."

There is a sports draft pick analogy here as well. Who would
you rather have defending your rights, the NBA’s No.
1 draft pick and disappointment, Pervis Ellison or the undrafted
shot-blocking animal of the Detroit Pistons, Ben Wallace?
Plus, with Wallace, you get the Billy Preston afro at no extra
charge. Perhaps basketball metaphors are less compelling to
my New England readership since the Celtics have been absent
a cadre of effective white team members, so we’ll leave
it at that.

This whole thing is a digression from my stated mission of
news-related wordplay, but in discussing Alito, again I’m
drinking from a dry well. It seemed promising at first, as
the words "male slut" and "Lolita" can
be found in his name, but the leftovers from their employ
are pretty much worthless, and unlike horseshoes and hand
grenades, with anagrams, almost is like love in tennis; it
is nothing. The best I found was "a soil amulet,"
the notion of a dirt clod hanging around one’s neck for
good luck resonating some, but not much.

The surprise hit at Sundance
this year seems to be the movie "Wordplay,"
based in part on the career of Will Shortz, crossword puzzle
editor for the New York Times. It also documents the annual
American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, an event in which crossword
puzzlers cross swords, solving eight original puzzles designed
especially for this event. Like most battles of wits, the
victor is determined by speed and accuracy, so if you can
immediately blurt out the three letter word for a multitude
of eggs*, perhaps you might get to Stamford, Conn., for some
cutthroat competition at the end of March.

Word junkies are odd ducks, and they span the demographics
of personality and politics. On the one hand you have knee-jerk
Bush apologists like William Safire, and on the other hand,
borderline commie whack jobs such as myself. Safire makes
a fair fortune at it, while I earn about enough to take care
of my car payment. My hero and mentor in this arena is my
former teacher at St. Paul’s School in Concord, Richard
Lederer, a bona fide genius in this and many other areas,
and a man who though not possessed of the name recognition
of Safire, is both a smarter and far more decent human being.

Chris Elliott — August 16, 2004

Speaking of words, I hope everyone is planning to get together
with all of their politically oriented friends to play the
annual drinking game, "Nookyuler," in which participants
watch the State
of the Union address and pound a shot every time our
commander-in-thief butchers the word, "nuclear."
A gentle reminder, call a cab, because you’ll be staggering
before the end of it. I’m working nights these days,
so I’ll have to miss this year’s pack of lies, but
I’ll read up on it. That way I can digest the speech
without quite as much wincing.

*The answer is "ova."

Chris Elliott can be reached at CDElliott009@aol.com

Chris
Elliott archives

Groundhog
predicts
six more weeks
of suicide bombings

By John Breneman

Punxsutawney Phil, the famed Groundhog Day prognosticator,
spied a shadowy figure outside his burrow yesterday and forecast
six more weeks of suicide bombings.

Rather than spring, he also predicted the onset of an apocalyptic
nuclear winter and six more generations of global warming.
The fuzzy, buck-toothed prophet also took a small dump said
to portend rising gas prices,

A White House spokesman dismissed the reports, blaming them
on the liberal, pro-groundhog news media, then scurried back
into his heavily fortified underground bunker.

Word Gamers unite — By Chris Elliott

The groundhog also predicted continuing tensions between
elephants and donkeys in Washington.

Related news:
In some segments of the scientific community, it is believed
that if a single-call protozoan life form being examined under
an electron microscope sees its shadow and begins to undergo
meiotic division of its nuclei, then there will be six more
weeks of accelerated binary fission. MORE

Bush admits being petroleum junkie

By
John Breneman

President Bush announced plans to kick his lifelong addiction
to oil last night, prompting renewed speculation that he has
discovered a new technology enabling him to convert his own
hot air into energy.

The president’s military drilling of Iraq has not yielded
as much Texas tea as he hoped for and he no longer trusts
his petroleum pushers in the Middle East. On the bright side,
Bush emitted 12 percent less carbon monoxide than he ordinarily
does during a speech.

Gas-guzzling America can’t kick black gold cold turkey, but the president
announced a 12-step plan to get the grease monkey off our
back. Analysts speculate Bush has privately admitted that
he is powerless to oil and put his energy policy in the hands
of the Lord, believing that only God can help him stop giving
obscene tax breaks to the big oil companies.

Bush canoodles with Saudi prince — April 27, 2005

Fortunately, the president reminded the nation that his war
machine is pumping out plenty of freedom.

After his speech, Bush was moved to an undisclosed location
during the Democratic response amid concern that he might
be attacked by Virginia Gov. Tim Kaine’s radical extremist eyebrow.

Related story:
President
delivers standup routine — Jan. 25, 2006

Bush’s resolutions for 2006 — Jan. 11, 2006

President
pumps petroleum plan — April 29, 2005

Saddam tells judge to ‘go (bleep) yourself’

Related story: ‘Madman’ Hussein pleads insanity

By John Breneman

Saddam Hussein’s defense team unveiled a new legal tactic
today as the rowdy dictator amended his plea to not guilty
by reason of Tourette’s Syndrome.

"Down with America!" yelled Hussein, who added
"Kiss my mustard gas, you (bleeping) piece of Shiite!"
before being thrown out of the courtroom by his new chief
judge, Raouf Rashid Abdel-Wapner.

Hussein’s half brother and co-defendant, Barzan Ibrahim al-Tikriti,
was dragged off by security guards after calling the court
"the daughter of a whore."

"Yeah," Hussein added, "and your mother wears
Army boots." At one point, Hussein and his codefendants
rattled tin cups on the bars of their giant steel playpens
and took turns pretending to cough into their sleeves while
actually shouting the word "Blowjob!"

When the judge tried to restore order by tapping his gavel,
Hussein mocked him, saying, "Little girly man, thinks
he can hurt me with his little toy hammer."

Hussein then made a series of farting noises and called his
trial "the mother of all travesties of justice."
A threat to hold Hussein in contempt of court did not work
either.

"You
want to see contempt? I’ll show you contempt," said Saddam,
who then dropped his trousers and mooned the judge, adding,
"Douchebag!"

In a related story, attorneys for Kenneth Lay suggested they
may defend the Enron scam artist by characterizing his alleged
transgressions as "a crime of passion" motivated
by his unconditional love of stealing other people’s money.

ALSO:
Photos
prove Saddam possessed BVDs — May 23, 2005

Rumsfeld
offers proof of link between Saddam Hussein and … Rumsfeld
— June 11, 2004

Hamas Minority Whip Akmed AK-47 Aziz pledges reform.

Hamas election aftershocks …
bin Laden mulls bid for alderman

By John Breneman

The violent Hamas party’s victory in the Palestinian elections
is widely seen as a key milestone in the Middle East’s conversion
to a terrorcratic form of government.

Hamas leader Israel iz-Bad vowed between squeezing off bursts
of fire from his AK-47 to once again make the Palestinian
parliament safe for ski masks and machine guns. Political
analysts say the group’s plain-spoken "Screw Israel"
message resonated with voters in the pivotal Moustafa Lunch-Bucket
demographic.

However, Iz-Bad said he does not share Iran’s view that Israel
should be "wiped off the map." Instead, he favors
covering Israel in cement, buildings and all, and constructing
a swanky, mixed-use Palestinian development called Gazaville.

But in the emerging coalition government, he will have to
share power with one group that believes Israel should be
deported to Antarctica and another that advocates packing
Israel into crates and shipping it to a toxic waste site in
Arizona.

Hamas
also pledged to improve public education for young suicide
bombers, who studies show are falling behind their peers in
Iraq and Afghanistan.

The election is viewed as a positive sign for terror honchos
like Osama bin Laden, now said to be mulling a bid for alderman
in Islamabad. A spokesman reported a sharp increase in campaign
contributions to bin Laden’s political action committee, Friends
of Death to America.

Terrorist parties also made electoral gains in Syria, Yemen
and Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where the school board was seized
by a slate of hooded candidates called the Jesus Liberation
Front.

Related story:
Hussein
dope-slapped in Iraqi election — Dec. 16, 2005

Terror
and laughter  …     President
Bush warmed up the crowd for his talk about terror and 9/11
and spying on Monday with a taste of his classic "Everybody
Loves W." standup routine. The president was on a roll.
In fact, the parenthetical reaction (Laughter) appears a rollicking
61 times in the official White House transcript at www.whitehouse.gov.

Following are verbatim excerpts of the president’s remarks.
The words in parenthesis (originally "Laughter"
and "Applause") have been edited. Repeat. The president’s
words are his own. Only the reactions have been edited:      —
John Breneman

* * *

President
Discusses
Global War on Terror
at Kansas State University

Kansas State University
Manhattan, Kansas

In Focus: National Security
In Focus: Renewal in Iraq

11:51 A.M. CST

THE PRESIDENT: Thanks for inviting me here to give the Landon
Lecture. For those students who are here, I want you to know
I can remember what it was like to sit through lectures. (Laughter,
applause.) I didn’t particularly like it then. (Laughter,
many in the audience now slapping their thighs and knees in
appreciation of such a brilliant self-deprecating quip.) …

I want to thank the introducer. So he’s on Air Force One.
He says, that’s a cute-looking blue tie you have. (Two men
in the front row explode in laughter; one grabs the other’s
tie, yanks it hard and pokes the man in both eyes.) But I
strongly suggest, Mr. President — (HA! HA! HA! HA!) I said,
I don’t know, Senator, if I can take it; I’m worried about
all those lobby laws — or the lack of them. (The crowd erupts
again, having secretly hoped for a "Congress is soooo
corrupt …" zinger.)

He said, fine, I’ll just loan it to you. I said, well, now
that you’re helping me dress, you got any hints on how I ought
to do my hair? (Laughter, applause, quizzical expressions
appear on many faces) …

I want to thank the Governor. Governor Sebelius, thanks for
putting up with me, Roberts and Brownback as we drove from
the airport to here. One hour with the three of us — it required
a lot of patience. (HA-HA-HA!! Brownie turns to Robo, high-fives
him and yells "Woooo!!") …

I want to thank Congressman Jim Ryun, right from this district.
I appreciate you being here, Congressman. (Applause for the
legendary Olympic distance runner.) I’m not interested in
jogging with you. (Uproarious laughter. Many in the audience
pantomime running in place and panting, one man clutches his
chest and falls down pretending to die of laughing) …

I appreciate President Wefald for having me come. I know
Laura was his first choice. (Shouts of "Laura!"
resonate through the hall, filled with people who love the
president’s trademark "I married well" schtick.)

That’s why he’s the head of such a fine institution; he’s
got good judgment. (Ripples of anticipatory chuckling.) By
the way, she sends her best. I married really well. (OOH-HO-HO-HOH!!
The room bellows in a perfect storm of laughter at the president’s
artful melding of family values and folksy modesty.)

And I want to thank Charles Reagan and Edward Seaton. Charles
is the chairman of the Landon Lecture Series. And Edward is
the head of the patrons. He said to me, he said, I so appreciate
you believing in free speech; thanks for giving a free one.
(Several people drop to the floor, roaring; others gasp the
words "Free speech!" while gesturing to a neighbor
that they are having trouble breathing. A slender man gives
a large woman the Heimlich maneuver, causing her dentures
to fly out and hit a Secret Service agent in the head.) …

I appreciate the students being here. I particularly want
to thank those who’ve come from the Last Chance Bar. (A disheveled
student smashes a whiskey bottle over the head of the man
to his left, laughter.) Better than watching daytime TV I
guess. (Ha? Ha-ha-ha?) …

I do want to pay tribute to our wonderful men and women in
uniform. Thank you for serving our country. (The crowd whoops
"U! S! A!" — chants of "Stay the course!"
and "Remember 9/11!!" ring out. A man with a piece
of duct tape covering his mouth is hurled out a window.) …

I’ll never forget the first decision I had to make as the
President. I wasn’t even sworn in yet, and a fellow called
me on the phone and he said, what color rug do you want to
have in the Oval Office? (Whew!! People are wiping sweat from
their brows and struggling to catch their breath.) You’ve
got to be kidding me, man. (Laughter, a few people actually
manage to momentarily regain their composure.)

He said, no, what color rug would you like to have in the
Oval Office? I said, I don’t know. He said, well, it turns
out that Presidents — you’ve just got to know Presidents
design their rugs. I said, well, to be honest with you, I
don’t know much about designing rugs.

So I called, I delegated — that’s one of the things you
do in decision-making. (a man mutters "shoulda delegated
someone to write a decent joke" and is quickly subdued
by a dark-suited man wearing sunglasses)

I said, Laura, how about helping design the rug? (Laughter
engulfs the room, slowly giving way to contented smiles as
people think "a man who asks his wife to help design
a rug could NEVER thumb his nose at privacy rights with unrestrained
wiretapping. Right?") …

You can’t lead the nation, you can’t make good decisions
unless you’re optimistic about the future. So for the students
here, as you take over organizations or head out of college
and become involved in your life, you’ve got to be optimistic
about — if you’re going to lead somebody. Imagine somebody
saying, follow me, the world is going to be worse. (Heh-heh.
The laughter trickles off …)

For
more (Laughter),
read the rest of the speech.

Related story:
A
comic bomb: Bush slays’em with WMD gag — March
26, 2004

Drowning in the cultural sea

By Lars Trodson

OK, I get it — enough with the “Brokeback Mountain”
jokes already. Anybody who can fire off a joke about this
gay cowboy-themed movie I’ll give you credit: you can
hit the side of a barn door. Good for you. But now, please,
I beg you, find another obvious culture target and move on.

Listen, I’m not above the fray: The other day I said
to my friend, in a faux Southern accent: “I just wish
I could quit you.” So freakin’ hilarious. It was
right then I knew I was in trouble.

I
am gently trying to ease my way out of this super-saturated
TV/broadcast/podcast/phonecast world we live in (sometimes
successfully, sometimes not) precisely because of its oppressive
nature. I’m begging my wife to cancel the cable, in part
because everything seems so bizarrely similar in that digital
world. I don’t expose myself to a lot of any of that,
but if I’m sick of hearing “Brokeback Mountain”
jokes, imagine how anyone who listens and watches a fair amount
of these entertainment or talk shows must feel.

Everything sounds and looks like it’s in a continuous
loop: If I start watching the news, I can flip the channels
and it seems as though every network is talking about the
exact same thing. Why do they each send their own reporter?
If I turn on CNN, there is Wolf Blitzer. Every time.

I caught a snippet of an entertainment magazine the other
day and they were interviewing one of the “Desperate
Housewives” and the host says “Is she desperate
to win a Golden Globe?” Ugh. How many times do you think
some writer or host has slipped in that word when talking
to one of the stars of that show? How do you think the stars
of that show must feel when they hear it? For the millionth
time?

SPLIT!!! Pitts call it quits

I mentioned the other day that I have spent years oblivious
to the charms of Jennifer Aniston, but now she annoys me —
and it isn’t even her fault. Everywhere I turn there
she is — with some oblique mention of him. "Is Jen over
Brad?," "What didn’t Brad tell Jen?,"
"Jen moves on," "Why hasn’t Jen moved
on?," "Jen talks about life, love and friendship,"
(ugh), "What will Jen do next?" and the always enticing,
"Jen and Vince; The real story behind their friendship."
Ugh. She’s in the supermarket tabloids and glossy magazines
and in the newspapers and in every other movie released this
year. And the odd thing is, every time I see her on the television
I witness a young woman so coiled up, so closed up by all
this megawatt attention, that she isn’t really terribly
interesting any more. I don’t blame her — so, for the
sake of her sanity and mine, leave her alone and let her become
a human being again.

Angelina Jolie romantically linked to Kim Jong Il

It seems as though no phrase — no matter how well-turned,
no matter how trite — will now get buried under an avalanche
of undue attention. The other day I saw a photo of Angelina
Jolie — a woman who, for whatever reason (because I don’t
know her, obviously) — strikes me as charming and intelligent
and reasonably grounded. But in this photo she was referred
to as "Brangelina." Oh, boy — here we have the
nexus of him again, that man, and her, and a new version of
an already tired contraction that was used all those years
for Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez. Brangelina. It doesn’t
work. You can’t say it. Stop using it.

Same thing with the "Brokeback Mountain" stuff.

From what I hear — because I haven’t seen the movie,
although I will — is that it is a lovely, touching, heartfelt
movie that’s managing to survive upstream in the deep
sewage of our well-worn sexual insecurities.

Because, you know that — heh heh — every time we regular
folk — ha — talk — ahem — about gay male sex — ha ha
— in this country — heh — we try to make — ha — light
of it — cough — because, you know — hee hee — we’re
not gay and — heh cough — and — heh — well, you know —
cough — we’re not gay — cough.

So what we get from the mainstream yukmeisters out there
is a stream of Humpback or Bareback Mountain jokes, over and
over and over again and I’m already sick of the poor
movie even before I’ve had a chance to reasonably make
up my own mind about it.

And just like all those "Bareback Mountain" jokes,
I’ve run out of steam. I was thinking of trying to end
this column on some witty note, but then I realized the whole
enterprise was most assuredly not very funny to begin with.

Lars Trodson can be reached at larstrodson@comcast.net.

Abramoff
fingerprints
found on president’s ass

By John Breneman

Forensic political analysts today unveiled new evidence linking
President Bush to lobbyist Jack Abramoff — a clean set of
the disgraced influence peddler’s fingerprints reportedly
lifted from Bush’s buttocks.

White House spokesman Scott McClellan confirmed that Abramoff
was a Bush "pioneer" (for contributing $100,000
or more to the ’04 Bush-Cheney campaign), but asserted the
president does not know Abramoff or recall ever having met

McClellan said he could not comment on an ongoing investigation,
but maintained that if the lobbyist did somehow gain access
to the presidential hindquarters he did so without the president’s
knowledge. (Sources close to Bush’s backside say that kind
of access costs at least $1.2 million.)

Most analysts agree that photographs of the two men together
in a receiving line do not prove Bush knew Abramoff. However,
the Humor Gazette has learned there may be a potentially more
damaging photo of Abramoff at a White House poker game with
the president and his pals Scooter and Brownie.