What a city

Something was brought to my attention yesterday that sounded so ridiculous I just had to share it. Unless you've been living under a sports-free rock recently, you know that Jerome Bettis of the Pittsburgh Steelers is returning to his hometown of Detroit to play in the Superbowl this Sunday. Well, as a token of appreciation for his years of service in the league and being an ambassador for the city, the mayor of Detroit bestowed upon Jerome the "key to the city." It's an honorary gesture but a prestigious one at that. And with that distinction, Jerome certainly enters into some prestigious company, joining the likes of Louis Farrakhan, the rock band KISS, and perhaps most impressively of all, Saddam Hussein. That's right, folks. Saddam Hussein has a key to the city of Detroit. Apparently, a couple of decades before he was crawling out of a spider hole, he was donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to a church in the city. So then-mayor Coleman Young decided that this Saddam is a pretty good guy and deserved a reward for his generosity. Solid choice there, Coleman. Think you might want to have a do-over on that one? THIS JUST IN. Here are the other recipients of the key to the city of Detroit:
Joe Piscopo
Richard Simmons
Jake "The Snake" Roberts
Captain Janeway
Pol Pot
Marshall Applewhite
Jesse Katsopolis
Aquaman

Some other things that have been on my mind:

You know who I hate? Little kids with glasses. I just want to punch them in the face. All of them. Even the retarded ones. Also, adults with no teeth. They're lucky they don't have any teeth because if they did I would knock them out. Of course if they had teeth, I wouldn't be punching them in the first place because the reason I hate them is because they have no teeth. GRRRRR. If there were only a way to knock somebody with no teeth's teeth out. GRRRRR.

I will be starting a new, more lucrative job soon. Now don't be too proud of me, more lucrative is a relative term. Walking around town checking the coin return slots in pay phones and vending machines would be more lucrative than working at Target. But this job will be lucrative enough that it will allow me to purchase a new car in the near future. But this has me in quite a dilemma, because I HATE new car smell. I know a lot of people love it, but it makes me want to puke my guts out. Hell, I'd rather smell puke than new car smell. Maybe somebody can answer this for me - when you buy a used car, does it have new car smell? Like, do they recondition it and get that smell back in somehow? God, I hope not, or I will become a motorcyle rider very shortly.

I have never, not once, found a southern accent charming. Any kind of southern accent - Texas, Georgia, Virginia, whatever. It's all fingernails on the chalkboard to me. You know what? I'd rather listen to a roundtable discussion between a Scotsman, a Newfoundlander, a Bostonian, a Buffalonian, a Bronxite and a guy from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan than hear one damn person say younguns, ya reckon, puddin, plum tuckered, much obliged, y'all, swayt tay or chitlins.

Butterfingers. You ever eat them? I do, sometimes. But I'll tell you what, I don't get them at all. I mean, they're supposed to be peanut butter. But they're so damn hard! That has got to be the hardest peanut butter produced in the world. How can they even call it butter? They're tagline is "crispety, crunchety, peanut-buttery!" But peanut butter is neither "crispety" nor "crunchety." So why did they make the candy bar that way? Reese's cup? Nutrageous? Fast break? Fifth Avenue? Those products are of the appropriate consistency. I'm just waiting for the day that they start advertising products as "smoothety, creamety, potato chippety!"

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so here is my admission. Ever since I saw the movie Phone Booth a few years ago, I've been calling up strangers and, in my best Kiefer Sutherland, saying, "If you hang up, I will kill you." They always hang up.