So, it turns out that The Omen has its own Myspace page.  Honestly now, who in their right mind wants to be in Satan’s Top 8.  And anyway, what do you write about if you’re the Devil incarnate?  “June 12^th: Man, I’m so depressed.  Ever since Cindy left me and I got fired from down at the frou frou cheese shop my life has just been one long silent scream of angstiness.  On the bright side, I just can’t wait to see Spiderman 3!”

            My Mom, for reasons not entirely understood by myself, decided to buy a rubber purple dragon to decorate the kitchen with.  For reasons even less obvious to me, she has apparently decided that it would be a capital idea to have him just live in my box of cider.  Now, if I were more of a heavy drinker, or she were more the sort of person given to making symbolic statements as a way of keeping her family on the straight and narrow, I might be tempted to read too much into this, but as it is, I think this is just her revenge for all the times back in the day when I left Skeletor and Man at Arms locked in mortal combat in the lunchmeat drawer.

            I was at Wal-Mart the other day, and in their computer accessories aisle, they had printer ink.  The problem was that all the boxes had brightly colored butterflies on them.  Sorry Wal-Mart, but whoever told you that the butterfly is an ink-producing animal was lying.  Really, this is worse than the time all the frozen crab legs there had a picture of a manatee on them. 

            Did you know that George Washington had a set of hippopotamus teeth made after he lost all his original ones?  I bet that’s why he was such an effective President.  Nobody wants to be bitten by an angry founding father with hippo teeth.  He must have been like Jaws or something.

            In a completely non-characteristic bout of conformity last week, I bought a Batman antenna topper.  The problem is though, that now I have Batman’s severed head stuck on my antenna, and he looks so freakin serious.  It’s like he knew this was coming; that someday the Joker would manage to remove and shrink his head and mount it on a Plymouth Voyager, so now all he can do is bear it stoically.  Also, whenever I go above about 60, he spins around, which does nothing to enhance his dignity.

            Speaking of heads, why is that shampoo called Head and Shoulders anyway?  Do a lot of people out there have insanely hairy shoulders and need a special shampoo for them?  Am I paying more by always getting the shampoo with the shoulder option?  Is there a shampoo out there simply called Head, which would suit my needs more affordably?

            This all of course begs the question: have they ever thought about making a foot care product called Knees and Toes?

I passed a truck today for Southern Tile Delivery. I kid you not; their acronym does not leave a favorable impression.

You see Keanu Reeves is doing a new movie in which he falls in love with Sandra Bullock.  And travels in time.  Honestly, I’m beginning to think that he’s got some kind of contract thing going on where unless he gets to travel in time and be the Chosen One, he just won’t sign on.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with this and all, but someday someone is going to make a time traveling chosen one movie with say, Lindsay Lohan in the starring role, and the universe will just implode or something.

If you went postal and shot up a Target, it would be tragic, yet strangely appropriate.

            It’s a good thing that most obscene gestures are things that you have to do like, really deliberately.  Like, what if there’s a culture somewhere where waving your open hand cheerfully at someone was a mortal insult concerning both goats and the mother of the person at whom it was directed?  I hope there is such a country, and that someday they send a lot of immigrants here.  Unless of course this culture already happens to be the French, in which case it would explain a lot.