First off, allow me to apologize for being somewhat completely not here this past week.  I was a-vacationing, and it was most righteous.

            It must really suck to be Spider Man, not because you’re poor and all your friends end up turning into supervillians, but because the only way you know it’s time to swing into action is when you hear a police siren.  Which may be all well and good when it’s the cops chasing down some hood who stole Uncle Ben’s land yacht, but I bet Spider Man gets so many false alarms where like, he and Mary Jane’ll be having some nice romantic dinner they’ve been planning all week, and then he hears a siren and leaps out the window and all, only to discover that it was just a guy getting pulled over for a having a taillight out.  And let’s face it, after that, it’s just gotta be tough to recover that lovin’ feelin’.

            Whilst I was at the beach and in a coffee shop (with the ever charming Amy, no less) we espied a fancy-shmancy chocolate bar under the brand name of Dagoba.  Man, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to know that Yoda in not only alive and well, but has started an esoteric chocolate bar company from his wretched swamp planet.  I guess that mess that Luke’s X-Wing sank into was really just a morass of nougat and ground up heath bars after all.  I now shall turn my energies back to eagerly awaiting the day when Chewbacca finally gets his cosmetics company off the ground.

            You know how people always have those stickers in their windows of Calvin peeing on various things like say, losers, or Osama bin Laden, or Chevrolets in General?  That’s great and all, but aren’t there so many other things in the world that Calvin might better devote his time to the taking of whizzes upon?  Like how about if Calvin decided to take a leak on world hunger for a change?  And when was the last time you saw Calvin peeing on racism?  And don’t tell me that you’ve never thought about unfair it is that Calvin never pees on say, the Chinese occupation of Tibet.

            Don’t you hate it when you’re getting on a plane or getting ready to pilot your giant anime robot against one of the vile robeasts of King Zarkon and the guy who’s selling you the ticket is like, “Have a nice flight/totally awesome robeast battle!” and then you’re like, “You too!” but then you realize that in fact, he is not about to fly/battle any abominations and you feel all silly.  Fear no more though, because all you have to do to recover is fake that you were about to say something about the band of the same name as your previous accidental statement.  So instead of saying, “You too…um, in case you ever happen to fly to Mongolia or battle Hnothrag the Defiler.”  You can just say, “You too, is a totally awesome band; I enjoyed their musical stylings on “Stuck in a Moment” particularly.”  Then, not only do you not sound retarded, but they’ll appreciate your fine knack for musical criticism. 

            Does anyone actually call McDonald’s “Mickey D’s” aside from the oleaginous buffoons in their commercial?  Seriously, is that like, what passes for cool in say, Oregon or something and I simply haven’t heard about it yet?  I hope not, because if it is, then Oregon, I’m afraid that one of your oxen has indeed died, and by “one of your oxen has died” I mean “You’re the most benightedly uncool state ever.”  And don’t even ask me to explain what I mean by “Little Timmy has Cholera” because you don’t even want to know.

            Is Vigo Mortensen really related to Vigo the Carpathian?  I hope so, because then they can finally do that sitcom together that I’ve been having fevered and phantastic dreams about in the red-litten arboreal shadows of restless and aeon-forgotten Yuggoth.  You know, they could be like, caterers or ninjas or something, and their other roommate would be an escaped government cyborg.  Oh, and they’d be raising a small child.  That would rule.