AAJ

Uncle Bone, asked me if I might write a little something about the news of the day--I guess he's dealing with a plumbing nightmare that's caused him to neglect the world. (He also asked me to thank Justin for saving the day). Anyway, here goes. First of all these aren't exactly "salad days" for joke-writers. And to make matters worse, I'm a 19-year-old girl, with a 19-year-old girl's "who gives a crap" attitude toward just about any world event you might name. No wonder the Boneman wants me to tackle the news, there's not much going on--back when Clinton was at the wheel it was a piece of cake--jokes came flying off that guy like bullets from an Uzi. But, as far as I can tell, political humor has pretty much sputtered out. I could joke about the "Condit thing," but I'm afraid that might not turn out to be very funny--I'll leave that one for the Boneman. Anyhow I'll try and do my best, headed as we are down this bleak, comedy cul-de-sac of the second coming of Bush.

You can say what you want about that skunk Clinton, but at least he was good for a laugh. After Billy's shiny example, you can bet that Bush is going to keep his head down and his zipper up. We've all heard the stories about his younger days as a crazy Texas party-animal, Yee haw, he might've had cocaine billowing out of his ass in those days, but he's straightened up his act--plus, he's too up-tight to be a womanizing, "sex nut" like Clinton. Sadly for old Georgy Porgy, it looks like the economy is the only thing that's gonna be going down on him. What a boon to womankind this will be. Thank you Monica Lewinsky, what a wonderful role-model you've been to the young women of today. Love ya, you milky moon-eyed cow.

Obviously the recipient of her fathers genetic party favors, the best comic prospect of the new administration appears to be "Jumpin' Jack Jenna," the President's daughter. In a way I hate to see this--though I felt for Chelsea, it did my teenage heart good to watch a family where the "kid" was being embarrassed by the "Dad." The President no less. It was a nice change of pace to see family embarrassment running in that direction. Thanks to Jenna, the old traditions should return and the world's problems can once again be safely blamed on todays youth. Still, Jenna's drinking is precious little to go on for joke-writers--where's the wacky blacksheep brother, the lesbian wife, the rehab queen?
Speaking of rehab, what a shock it was to hear of Backstreet Boy AJ McClean's battle with the bottle. I think a little piece of America died when we got that news. Don't we all remember a simpler time when AJ's eyes were all atwinkle, clean and innocent--back when, at the very most, he was hooked on phonics. Perhaps it's not all his fault, from day one those evil showbiz types cast AJ into the role of the BS bad boy gave him the Devil's Haircut, with the evil precision sideburns and wannabeard. What did they expect--Opey? Obviously this spells the end for the BS Boys--it's not like you can just replace an AJ with some other swarthy bohemian kid. It'd be like the Stones without Mick Jagger. Pity really.

Let's see, where else does one turn to glean a laugh out of the news? It's slim pickins'. Thank goodness for Hugh Hefner. Hef must have hit some kind of delayed mid-life crisis; because, if you haven't heard, he's now cavorting about with seven blonde, young girlfriends--one for each day of the week. (Yet another proud development for us women.) This has got to be the talk of the town in Colorado City--the stuff of Fairy Tales, who besides Snow White has ever pulled-off such a feat?

Imagine how happy this must make the good folks at Pfizer--what better testimonial could they've dreamed-up for Viagra? (A 70 year old keeping 7 women satisfied--that's not going to hurt sales.) Yessir, old Hef's gonna go down swinging, if it means having himself cryogenically frozen until they've perfected the "penis pacemaker."
What are we to learn from Hef's experiment? First of all it sends a strong message to all the seniors out there that senility isn't necessarily all bad. Obviously a few of the gears on Hef's grasp of sanity have started to strip, but at least he's sticking to his guns, he's gonna go out with a bang. We're behind you 100% Hef, you horny old nut.

What else is in the news? What about that Robert Blake's wife-murder deal? I haven't heard much lately--but I think they've pretty much got him dead to rights. It looks like this is a caper that might've been better thought out. When you consider that O.J. made a desperate, numb-nutted run for the border, only to limp back at 20 m.p.h. in front of the whole world, it's not good that, compared to you, he looks like a criminal genius. You'd think that after all those episodes of Baretta, that Blake could've come up with a better game-plan. You'd also think that even the most washed-up old has-been of a celebrity could hook up with a better wife than that scary, awful hag. From what we've come to learn about that classy broad, if I were Blake I'd just plead "self defense."

Now that I think about it, I think I will take a shot at the Condit thing. I guess the California congressman has admitted to having an affair with Chandra Levy, the missing Intern, since she was 18. Yup, he had plenty of sex with her, but he's pretty sure he didn't murder her. That's the Commandment where he draws the line, dammit--absolutely no murdering.

I guess I just don't understand how we've managed to elect so many members of Congress who have so much trouble with their erect members of congress. If I were in charge every elected official would have a runner-up, (preferably a woman) who would immediately assume their duties as soon as they admitted to the world that they were cheating adulterous scumbags. "Take your hanging chad and hit the road Dick. We mean to clean up this town."

One last thing, it was reported the other day that former Jazz center Olden Polynice, was arrested for assaulting a man on a Salt Lake golf course. I guess now that he's no longer on the team (I think he even asked to be traded) that Utah golfers have got it in for him. Poor O.P. How many times can you listen to their taunting, "Hey big guy, it's against the rules to putt with your lips," before you snap.