I smoke outside.

Every Saturday morning, I see an old couple walking past my house. They are probably in their 80's. The guy wears an old wife beater shirt and golfer pants. The lady wears a housecoat. They always say hello, and they are always holding hands. Always.

I just want you all to know this.

I was thinking....

All of my friends are wonderful.

It's hard to be objective about my family, but I like to think they're swell folks.

My co-workers are all great. I can't think of a single person at my job who I don't have genuine respect for.

Rarely do I encounter a true jerk in everyday life, so it's always a bit of a shock to me. I just don't see them very often. It's like seeing a giraffe. I always express a bit of wonder.

"Wow, that guy was a jerk!"

"Did you see that jerk?"

"That bar was full of jerks!"

When I come in contact with a real jerk, it's not even very unpleasant. It's just somewhere between alarming and amusing, like an unexpected spice in my food.

I'm not exaggerating this time.

When I cook, I leave the back door open for some air. There is a tiny back yard, just big enough for a few trash cans and the dogs can step outside to do their business if they choose.

I made spaghetti and sauce. We had company, Joe and Patty were over. We had just finished eating when Pidge came inside with what I assumed was one of her toys. She began shaking it violently.

It was not one of her toys. I knew this because hair and blood were flying everywhere. It was a possum.

After she eviscerated the animal, she dropped it on the floor, overcome with pride at the magnificent gift she had given us.

The possum was still alive and moving, blood oozing out of it's mouth, and with one leg torn completely off. We put it in a box and I took it out front and finished the poor thing off with a shovel.

We really know how to entertain.

Remember when we all lived in a van in that Pathmark parking lot? When we used to light shopping carts on fire and leave them in the middle of Oregon Avenue? When we drank gallon jugs of Bankers Club Gin for breakfast and got in food fights at the Chinese Buffet every day at lunch? By dinner we'd be so drunk we would just stand out front of the Pizza Hut yelling "STUFFED CRUST!!!" over and over until they fed us free food? When we devolved into chimpanzees and beat passers-by with rolls of wrapping paper we stole from the dollar store? When we dressed in the skins of wild animals and painted our faces with the blood of our enemies? When we chanted the names of the Elder Gods until they rose from the sea and forced us to breed with jellyfish? When our poisonous spawn ran wild throughout the land and sprayed their caustic venom at anything with a vertebrae and the streets ran red with blood? When the black sky itself would open it's drooling mouth and laugh with joy at the things we did?

What the hell happened to you?

I really miss the Weekly World News.

I used to look forward to going to the grocery store. I'd wait in line, pick up a copy and start a conversation with a total stranger about whatever was on the cover. Of course, none of us are strangers when faced with the news that the Gates of Hell are open and history's worst villains are coming to kill us all. Or the news that an artichoke heart transplant can actually save your life. I remember being in line one time reading a story about a preacher who spontaneously exploded during a sermon. I turned to an old lady next to me and said "Why? Why do things like this have to happen?"

She just shook her head and muttered "It's a damn shame."

It's moments like these that made the publication so special. It touched our lives.

I remember the shock and feeling of hopelessness and loss the first time I noticed it missing from the checkout lines at the Pathmark in 2007. I think America died a little that day. The Weekly World News gave us all something to fear. Together, as a country.

I think it's awful that we don't have anything like that anymore.

In the checkout line at Super Fresh the other day, an elderly Asian guy in front of me was buying a big box of chicken. As he approached the cashier, he turned to me with a menacing grin and said in a loud voice "IT'S A HOLIDAAAAAAAY!" and then began laughing maniacally, like a cartoon villain.

This is my new greeting for any and all holidays. So when you see it, don't run away. You will want to, but don't. Just don't.

Holy living crap.

Have you seen these new commercials with the big creepy burger king guy sneaking into peoples bedrooms and waking them up with one of those compressed air horns?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQz3pv6aMtA

I can't even begin to describe the massive heart attack I would have.

What possible motivation could they have for making these ads? They're not even trying to sell burgers anymore. They just want to scare the living hell out of people. I'm afraid to close my eyes at all anymore. Do you think if I asked nicely the burger king guy would stop terrorizing people so I can sleep again?