CALL ME SNAKE

I don't claim to understand it and never did. But today I found out that my memberships in the Humor WebRing and Funny Humor Writing WebRing were magically reinstated--perhaps a result of all the complaining I've been doing of late. In any case, I'm back to being humorous and funny again--important traits for any aspiring comedian. So I guess I'd better keep on doing what I've been doing. In other words, expect more of the same. As my pappy always said: "If it ain't fixed, break it!"

I was heartened by a recent "news analysis" piece in the Boston Globe that showed how Bush's domestic agenda is foundering, with the "mandate" he claimed last year now appearing thin to nonexistent. Upon reflection, I've realized the situation is, at best, a "good news/bad news" thing. The bad news, of course, is that we're stuck for 3-plus more years (can't wait for the "Lame Duck" era to set in!) with a leader hellbent on ruining the country as quickly as possible. The good news is that he's fairly inept, which means there's still some hope for the rest of us.

It was bad enough when my membership to the Funny Humor Writing WebRing was suspended. I rationalized that one by saying I was happy to write something that qualified as "humor." It didn't have to be "funny humor." But now that my membership in the Humor WebRing has just been suspended, that line of argument isn't holding up so well. For now, I'm pinning all my hopes on the "Moderately Amusing WebRing." If I get bounced out of that one, I might have to rethink this whole proposition and find a new hook to hang my hat on. Volleyball anyone?

Tomorrow we're celebrating my youngest daughter's third birthday. That should be a joyous occasion, right? You go out and buy a bunch of presents, wrap them up, and then what happens? You give them to all the other freeloading, moocher kids who come to the party, leaving with far more than they brought. That's the "goodie bag" concept that has turned every birthday party into a nightmare for parents. When I was a kid, admittedly a few years back, you were lucky to get a piece of cake at a party--that is if you didn't misbehave. You never left with a bag full of presents. And these days, one present will not do for those greedy kids. No you need a well-rounded assortment of crap to keep them from screaming bloody murder.

But it doesn't have to be that way. Parents everywhere can heed my call and unite: Let's put an end to this foolish practice and restore some sanity to birthday celebrations. It may be too late to restore sanity to this particular parent--what with the event less than 24 hours away and the pressure mounting beyond belief--but I'm thinking of all the other parents out there, and future parents down the road, who might be spared this most inhumane form of punishment.

How's this for bad luck? You're engaged to one of the richest girls in America. Then a band of leftist revolutionary cultists busts into your apartment, beats you up, and kidnaps your fiance. Then she's brainwashed and falls in love with one of her captors. Losing your girl to a guy named "Cujo" must be particularly hard to take. She's with this cult for nearly two years, during which time you see her on TV brandishing a rifle and robbing banks. Then she's captured and spends another almost two years in jail. When your gal emerges from that nightmare, she ends up marrying her bodyguard. All this happened to Steven Weed 30-some years ago. He came ever so close to having it made, when it all went south on him--in the most spectacular way.

(Source: "Guerilla: The Taking of Patty Heart," which aired on PBS two nights ago.)

I understand string theory quite well, save for a few nuances like: what are strings, branes, fluxes, moduli, and vacua? Yet, deep down, I've always felt that my understanding wasn't quite complete. Yesterday I spoke with one of the world's leading string theorists who told me "string theory is not a complete theory." So I guess I'm not alone in feeling that my understanding of this so-called "theory of everything" is not complete. In fact, I'm in very good company.

New WebRing mail almost always contain bad news, and today was no exception. "Your site in the Funny Humor Writing WebRing has been suspended," read the latest note. Then, to drive the point home, in case I was not only unfunny but thick, it repeated: "The RingMaestra of the 'Funny Humor Writing WebRing' has suspended your site." But I get the point and am now starting to worry about whether critics like Burt--who I've dismissed as a bunch of malcontent wannabes who wouldn't know funny if it reached up and bit them in the heinie (hey that's a good one; have to use it sometime!)--might be onto something after all. My membership in the "Moderately Amusing WebRing" is still intact and, for now, I hope to keep things at least at that level. If I can't continue to meet that lofty standard, the "Not Funny Humor Writing WebRing" awaits me. I'm sure Burt will be happy to write me a strong recommendation. Any other volunteers?

Jim O'Brien has my dream job. Yesterday, the Philadelphia 76ers organization fired O'Brien, who had been the team's head coach, and he'll now get $12 million over the next three years for doing absolutely nothing. Now that's a job I'm perfectly qualified for. And it's something I could do at least as well as O'Brien and probably better on account of my experience. So how come he's sitting pretty there in Philly, doing what we professionals call "bubkis," while I'm over here scrounging for a living? Hardly seems fair when put in those terms. The situation, moreover, raises an obvious question: How come I don't get jobs like that?

Don't look now but "CALL ME SNAKE" has cracked the "Most Highly Rated" blog list at Blogarama, currently sitting at 92. This is an accomplishment that should not be sneezed at (though it could reasonably be sneered at or scoffed at). With your help, we made the top 100 in this hotly-contested category. I'm not sure how many blogs, in total, were vying for this title but I'm pretty sure there are at least 92. All in all this accolade, combined with my uncredited contributions to a recent "Miss Conduct" column (see "MY 15 MINUTES" earlier today), have made this an amazing, dizzying day. I should be on Cloud 9 right now, taking it all in, were it not for the fact that I'm a perpetual worrier. I'm already thinking about tomorrow, wondering how in god's name I'll ever top today.

Maybe you wouldn't call it earth-shattering, but a question I asked "Miss Conduct" (the witty and urbane etiquette columnist for the Boston Globe Magazine) was addressed in last week's issue. I got a very polite note back from her letting me know it was a "good f_ _ _ ing question," though I knew that already. (I was pretty darn proud of it, realizing I finally had something worthwhile to ask Miss Conduct after having read her column for weeks, straining to come up with a decent query). I was assured that my question would be answered in a column she had already prepared on a similar topic--namely whether to ask people who you're pretty sure don't have jobs what they do for work when they ask you the same. (Boy, do I hate that question!) She said to "ask the f _ _ _ away," so long as you do it in a thoughtful and respectful manner--a caveat that could be applied to most etiquette-related matters when you get right down to it, save for those special occasions when you're obliged to be boorish and inappropriate. Interestingly, the last time I was in a social situation (three or four years ago), I followed the letter of her instructions--"asking the f _ _ _ away," so to speak--so it's good to know that my instincts, as always, are right on the mark.