Human Footprint: I Hope Mine Is 44 Triple E

National Geographic premiered the new show, Human Footprint tonight.

Before either of my two readers roll their eyes and call me a wing nut, understand that I am a subscriber to the magazine, watcher of the channel, and in general, a liker of the good images that National Geographic provides us.

Now, with that out of the way, let me sum up Human Footprint for those who were busy at the barbecue roasting a pig and slugging back milk or beer. So what?

The show features Elizabeth Vargas counting the pints of milk we drink, the tons of pork we eat, the thousands of eggs we eat, and on and on and on. And, in Elizabeth Vargas voice, it's all too damn much! She is disgusted with each of us. Our dinner plates, our breakfast choices, our preference for chicken. Elizabeth TV. We've seen it all before and heard her shock and disgust while she delivers just about every story she's ever delivered.

So, we eat a lot, we drink a lot, and apparently, we boink a lot or there wouldn't be so many of us pissing Elizabeth off.

By the way Elizabeth and Nat Geo, we are animals that are born as a result of procreation and when we arrive we're frickin hungry and need diapers and clothing. Big surprise.

We will either make it or not. It makes no difference. If we consume more than the world can give us, we die off. Then things change, the world goes on without us and without so much as a hiccup. If we don't consume more than the world can give us, we live on, we adapt, we spread out and make even more babies. End of story.

If it is too hard for National Geographic to understand that human beings are just another species, in an old world of trillions of species, then they might want to search for another hook. I know, plenty of my two readers will point out that because we can reason, think, calculate, then we should apply all of that to our lifestyles and... what? Eat less fish? Have one egg for breakfast instead of two? Take half the showers we now take?

The arrogance of the whole idea that we use too much is that we think that we are so damned important. We are not. We will live and die, and if we do it sooner than later, what of it?

Mother Earth isn't charmed with our visit and will do just fine, even better, without us. And I'm way okay with that.

In An Absolut World of Phony Victims

The Absolut Vodka print ad has pissed a lot of people off and gave others a phony sense of smug superiority.

The print ad, which appeared on billboards and in magazines in Mexico, made it's way to a wider audience via the Internet. The strange ad has been the subject of countless blogs and has sparked fiery arguments between those who find it funny and those who see it for what it is.

To the Mexicans that whine about the theft of their land by the United States, it doesn't matter that it was Mexico that started the war, and lost the war. It also doesn't matter that after the war Mexico sold the land to the United States in a treaty deal. All that matters to them is playing the phony victim where the big bad Americans bullied them out of what was rightly theirs.

Perhaps those Mexicans are unfamiliar with their own history: Mexico was never native Mexican.

The land that they are crying over was taken from the real indigenous inhabitants by the Spaniards. From Europe. Over there, where the Spanish language originated. But, for the sake of playing victim, it is better for the Mexicans to forget that.

So, let's play along with the victims. It's 2008, and through some tortured channel of convoluted logic, many Mexicans blame their unfortunate situations on America 'stealing' their land. To many of these people this imagined theft makes it perfectly justifiable to invade America illegally.

Well, what say they had all of that land back? Even though it was not their land originally, let's say that in 2008 they can lay claim to it and all of it is suddenly under Mexican rule. Would that scenario make their situations any better?

Or would it simply be a larger geographic area from which to flee?

Book Signing Location Moved Again

Michael Todd, author of the book My Cat Is An Asshole, announced today that his "scheduled" book signing has once again been moved to a new location.

"I don't know. Somebody said that if I set up another table in the parking lot at Barnes and Noble I could get arrested again," said Todd, as he threw grocery bags full of spiral bound books into the hatch compartment of his '76 AMC Gremlin.

"It's funny. I write the single most important piece of literature since Mariel Hemingway's over-rated "Old Man and The C-Note," and suddenly I'm Persona Non Gotti."

Todd was referring to an incident earlier this year when he backed his Gremlin against the doors of the local Barnes and Noble and tried to force incoming customers to purchase his previous book, Most People Should Be Locked Up.

"It was a good publicity stunt," Todd argues. "I mean think about it, my book was about how most people really ought to be locked up, so I back my car up against the doors to, you know, lock 'em all up on the inside. Then the police come and guess who actually gets locked up? I mean what kind of irony is that?"

Of course, nobody will answer that, or any other of his many questions.

When asked about the new location for the My Cat Is An Asshole book signing, Michael Todd throws his cigarette to the ground, rubs it out with his shoe, and says, "What difference does it make? After April 18th nobody's got no books to sell anyway."

Democratic Party Unveils Unified Convention Slogan

YES, WE CAN'T.
Democrats 2008

News Flash For Chelsea Clinton

Back when Chelsea was a kid it was easy to defend her against bunghole Repubs like Limbaugh and narcissistic megalomaniacs like Bill Clinton, but now she is an adult who chose to wade into the polluted waters of American politics.

Last week, when that college kid asked if she felt her mother was all the stronger for weathering President Clinton's predatory behavior in the Oval Office (for those of you who are too young too remember, that was the scandal where Bill was having sex in the Oval Office with that young intern, Monica Lewinsky), Chelsea responded with the "None of your business" spin.

Well, guess what Chelsea, it was his business. It's everyone's business when a President of the United States uses the Oval Office like a cheap motel. The Oval Office is public real estate.

If you don't want to be confronted with real questions about real issues, then sit down and shut up. You are an adult now and you are fair game when you choose to use your last name as a platform to influence an election cycle.

Get used to it or go home.

You have entered the arena of Politics of Personal Destruction that your two power-hungry parents invented.

All you managed to do with your 'answer' is show the American public that your family is choosing, once again, to nurse the infected sore that is 'The Clintons' in full public view.

Had your mother possessed a modicum of self-respect or even a feigned concern for you, she would have left the philandering predator years ago.

Lost Gilligan Island Episode: The Professor Gives Mrs. Howell A Boob Job

It's happened again.

Just discovered in a nearly forgotten film vault somewhere in Hollywood is the never before seen Gilligan's Island episode where the Professor convinces Mrs. Howell to let him give her a boob job.

The lost episode, which is scheduled to appear on HBO on April 2nd, begins with the Professor's contrived story about the need to give each of the castaways a routine, thorough physical. He tells them about an island fever he once read about that, if it goes untreated, can cause delirium-related orgies among perfect strangers. While the Skipper isn't exactly troubled with the possibility of having both Marianne and Thurston at the same time, Mrs. Howell masks her fears by pretending she doesn't know what an orgy means.

The Professor then jumps on the bamboo bike and pedals up enough electricity to project a couple of his porn films against the bed sheets that are hanging on the clothes line. Gilligan, who, unlike Mrs. Howell, has never participated in an orgy, begins to say dopey things and make dopey faces which then gets Ginger all hot.

Anyway, everyone agrees to the physicals and they form a line outside of the Professor's hut which he has somehow managed to decorate like a doctor's office. At one point the Skipper tries to cut in line in front of Mrs. Howell and the Professor knocks him out.

When Mrs. Howell makes it into the hut, the Professor is already naked and is playing a Barry White album on a portable turntable that is being powered by a monkey turning a crank. He hands Mrs. Howell a martini and then cuts her dress off with a box cutter that he stole from a tackle box on board the Minnow.

During the examination Mrs. Howell confesses her embarrassment to which the Professor replies, "It's all perfectly natural Mrs. Howell. I'm a professional and you're a patient and I'm am going to wait until the exam is over before I oil up."

I don't want to ruin the show for you, but somewhere in the episode the Professor implants two medium-sized coconuts and Mrs. Howell becomes way over confident and a bunch of cat fighting breaks out.

Elaborately Carved Wooden Object

I have no idea what this is for. I cannot interpret the intricate hand carved symbols because I lost my secret decoder ring.

My plumber suggested that the symbols are the formula for what holds the universe together and I believe him because he always wins when we play the home version of Wheel of Fortune.

It is wooden and large and on the back it says it is from Krakow, Poland. I think that's in Europe. $19