No Toys For Tots

Every year there is one newspaper headline that comes dangerously close to ruining my Christmas. Thank you, New York Times, for providing me with this one. For Toddlers, Toy of Choice Is Tech Device.

SAN FRANCISCO, Nov. 28: Cellphones, laptops, digital cameras and MP3 music players are among the hottest gift items this year. For preschoolers.

Toy makers and retailers are filling shelves with new tech devices for children ages 3 and up, and sometimes even down. They say they are catering to junior consumers who want to emulate their parents and are not satisfied with fake gadgets.

Fist of all, if they don't have a jobs then they should not be called "junior consumers." They're kids. They depend on big people with jobs-- aka senior consumers-- to make the purchases for them. Secondly, they're not even kids yet, they're toddlers. The only laptop a toddler really wants is the top of mommy's thighs.

Show me a toddler who isn't satisfied with a fake gadget and I'll show you a parent who doesn't know anything about toddlers.

But, just for fun, let's follow this line of thinking to its logical conclusion. If toddlers are no longer satisfied with fake gadgets, then let's get rid of all the fake kitchens and give them real ones with working gas and electric. Forget about that squaresville Bob the Builder dump truck. Let's give the little ones keys to a brand new 12-ton pile driver. And don't even get me started about fake babies. If little Amber wants to be just like mommy, then let's give her a real baby-- preferably one from a third world country... I think Angelina Jolie might have a spare-- so she can drag her around by her hair and shove a bottle in her eye.

"The bigger toy companies don’t even call it the toy business anymore," Mr. Silver said. "They’re in the family entertainment business and the leisure business. What they’re saying is, ‘We’re vying for kids’ leisure time.’"

My head...she spins! A toddler's life should be nothing but leisure time.

"If you give kids an old toy camera, they look at you like you’re crazy," said Reyne Rice, a toy trends specialist for the Toy Industry Association.

If you give a kid broccoli they look at you like you're crazy!

You have to go to the jump to read my favorite part of the story.

Grace, a 1-year-old in San Francisco, however, has been going through a decidedly nontechnology phase.

Recently, playtime has involved "putting little toys and dolls into bags and zipping them up," said her mother, Tanya, who declined to give her last name.

Yes, I can see why mother Tanya refused to give her last name. She must be so ashamed of little Grace. While the one-year-old down the street is creating the next killer app, baby Grace is amused by little toys and plastic bags. Let's hope her nontechnology phase doesn't last forever! I think this poor kid is doomed. The next thing you know, she'll be playing with blocks and boxes... she may even crawl in the box and nap when she's through. Somebody call Social Services! Get this kid an email account before it's too late!

Fiddle Faddle is Evil Goodness

The holidays are the time of year when my husband and I purchase salty snacks and gooey treats and all sorts of food items that don't normally find their way into our shopping cart. Ostensibly, we bring these items into our homes just in case we have company. The problem is, people rarely visit, so we find ourselves staring longingly at the brightly colored boxes looking for an excuse to tear into their high-caloried evil goodness.

This morning we ripped open a box of Fiddle Faddle shortly after breakfast. By lunchtime, we had consumed everything but the box. At 120 calories per serving (approximately seven servings per box) he ate four servings to my three. We decided to skip lunch. We decided to workout after what would have been lunch.

My husband tried to convince me that since Fiddle Faddle is just popcorn, peanuts and sugar, it might actually be good for you. I reminded him that he once told me french fries were good for you because they were made from potatoes. That's like saying pumpkin pie improves vision because it's from a orange food group.

I'm ashamed of us for not even waiting until December to raid our pantry. The nacho chips don't stand a chance.

Hemp Couture

When I read the Reuters' headline "Green is the New Black" I became very excited. Blame it on the part-Irish in me, but I just love the color green; kelly, lime, emerald, forest...I adore the entire green and greenish family. I even have great nostalgic affection for the avocado green that covered most Sears' Brand Appliances back in the 1970's.

So, imagine my horror, when I read the first line of the story and realized that by green they didn't mean the much overlooked kicky hue but by green they meant environmentally conscious.

Now, I care about the planet as much as the next carbon-based lifeform, but I also care about fashion. Letting environmentalists anywhere near the clothing industry is like asking Godzilla to be captain of your Neighborhood Watch group.

"With Seventh Avenue proclaiming that 'green is the new black,' we can expect a surge in fashion innovations in response to climate change," said Jo Paoletti, a professor at the University of Maryland and an expert in design and fashion.

It will mean not only debates about the benefits of cotton versus polyester or other fabrics, but likely future innovations such as smart clothes that monitor and adjust to body temperature to reduce the need for air conditioning and heating, she added.

I have this image of us all walking around wearing those suits from Dune that recycle sweat into tasty drinking water. I see a day when the only accessory our outfit will need is a straw.

"All of this is coming very quickly. Three years ago no one cared about this in apparel and textiles -- they had people who would wear hemp clothing but they'd buy it at hemp shops. Now it's much more mainstream and the marketplace is catching up," he explained in an interview.

First, it's the fabric that will be changed and next comes style. You don't believe me? These are people who like to wear Birkenstocks. Birkenstocks! Have you seen a pair of Birkenstocks lately? I see a person wearing Birkenstocks and I think, "Why are they so mad at their feet?"

Clothing will become less of a fashion statement and more of a political statement. "Look at me! My hemp skirt proves that I love baby turtles." "My pleated-front khaki clam diggers prove that I won't let men objectify me!" "My hand crocheted Rastafarian hat proves that shampoo is for losers!"

Already, they are trying to make us feel guilty about buying clothes we don't need.

"The same people who are now eschewing plastic bags are starting to look into their wardrobes and saying, 'Am I doing everything I can to reduce my consumption in terms of clothing?"' Paoletti said.

"Most Americans have many, many more clothes in their closet than they can wear. And I think they're aware of that," Paoletti added.

The average person in the U.S. throws away nearly 70 pounds of clothing and textiles a year, according to the Council for Textile Recycling in the United States.

Actually, I don't throw away nearly 70 pounds of clothing and textiles per year because I take my slightly worn clothes to Goodwill where the sale of those garments will help poor people. And since I am also a poor person, I subsequently purchase clothes from Goodwill thus giving them new life and keeping them out of landfills. It's called recycling. While you were out tying yourself to a tree, I was packing up my gas-guzzling station wagon and cruising on down to the donation center.

Yes, we can all do more to protect Mother Earth. But there's no reason why we can't look good while we're doing it. Environmentalism may currently be in vogue but I beg you to keep it off the cover of Vogue.

We Do Christmas Right

It's Christmas Eve with Colonel Sanders! That's right, it's Christmas Eve with everybody's favorite chicken man. (With apologies to the late Frank Purdue.)


According to the liner notes this 1967 recording was "prepared expressly for Kentucky Fried Chicken Corp. by RCA Victor." It's a special collector's edition, dontcha know. Just how much extra crispy did one have to eat to get this rare recording? Did they even have extra crispy in 1967?

It's actually a pretty good album with songs by Chet Atkins, Floyd Cramer, Vic Damone and Henry Mancini.

There's lots of copy on the back about the story of Christmas... not one mention of chicken. The first line says it all.

Christmas Eve is a night of excitement!

Judging from the cover, there was too much excitement for the Colonel. He appears to be asleep. Perhaps he secretly ate some turkey and is zoned out on tryptophan? Or maybe the chickens staged a Christmas Eve coup and and assassinated him while he sat by the fire? (Everybody knows that animals can talk on Christmas Eve.)

Regardless, I can no longer think of the baby Jesus without also thinking of an 8-piece bucket.

Peace on Earth, good will toward fowl.

Go Elf Yourself!

This is merely a still from the Elfyourself promotion website that Office Max is offering. An extremely clever Macromedia Flash program allows one to insert one's head (and/or the head of a loved one) into a dancing elf animation. We've watched it six times... it never gets old! The choreography is to die for.

It's Panda-monium!

The folks at the San Diego Zoo are thrilled to have a couple of highly reproductive pandas in their midst. Bai Yun and Gao Gao have been burning it up since 1993 and their frolicking has produced three little baby pandas. It may not sound like many, but pandas are hideously bad breeders, especially in captivity. The multiple offspring make Bai Yun and Gao Gao the Irish Catholics of the Giant Panda Kingdom. Perhaps these two have been sneaking out of the zoo for Sunday Mass and a pint of Guiness.

Female pandas, it seems, can only conceive for three days out of every year. And you wonder why there are less than 2000 of them left on the planet? Us layman call that your bad genetic planning. It also explains that sad look in their eyes. For 362 days out of the year, they have the sex drive of a Dungeons and Dragon Master on Paxil.

But you have to love the sense of humor of people whose job it is to encourage pandas to do the nasty.

But when Bai Yun enters her brief fertile periods, zookeepers make sure Gao Gao is there, sniffing her through a perforated gate zookeepers call the "howdy door" until her chirps and bleats indicate she's ready to get down to business.

The howdy door?! Oh you can bet that's going to become a catch phrase around our house.

The newest Panda Jr. will be officially named in a ceremony on Monday. I hope they call him Howdy Duty.

The Porn Name Game

Is there a self-respecting US citizen who hasn't played the Porn Name Game during at least one dinner party? For those of you who aren't familiar with the Porn Name Game, it's a way of determining what you would call yourself if you starred in a pornographic movie by combining the name of your first pet with the street you grew up on. It differs from the similarly titled "Name Game" of the 1960's in that the words "Banana-fana" rarely make an appearance. Unless, of course, your first pet was a monkey and lived on Fana Lane.

I'm not sure who first devised this method, but the results are often hilarious and, at the very least, always interesting. By employing this system, my porn name is an appropriate and legitimate-sounding Kelly B. I can actually imagine the words "Butts Up 3 Starring Kelly B" appearing on a DVD cover.

Not everybody, however, can expect such suitable results. My older brother's porn name is Peanut B which is a good if you're a female porn star, but a rather unfortunate choice if you happen to be male. It would only be perfect for a guy if he had a huge member and a tremendous sense of irony.

My husband has been laboring under the false impression that his porn name is Auggie Gross which to me sounds more like a porn star's accountant. Then he realized that prior to adopting his dog Auggie, he had a cat named Puss. This means that his new porn name is Puss Gross. Puss Gross?! Puss Gross has to be the worst porn name in porno history! What kind of sick twisted bastard would want to see a XXX rated film starring somebody named Puss Gross?! Admittedly, it would be a great moniker for a James Bond villain but for porn it's disgusting.

Then he also conveniently realized that before his kitty was officially named Puss his family simply called her The Mother Cat. This means my husband's true porn name in The Mother Cat Gross. Again, a terrible porn name, but a great name for an alternative rock band ranking right up there with Death Cab for Cutie and Neutral Milk Hotel.

Missing NJ Couple Found

I rarely watch the local news anymore and, when I do watch, I only half-watch preferring instead to split my time with magazine reading or toe nail clipping or back stretching. So, last night, when I heard the breaking news about an elderly New Jersey couple who were found after a 24-hour search, I was only partially paying attention. The newscaster called them Veronica and Albert Hansel so the names didn't mean anything to me. But then I looked at the screen and saw their photograph. "Oh my God," I yelled to my husband, "It's Ronnie and Al!"

Mr. and Mrs. Hansel have been friends and neighbors of my mother-in-law and late father-in-law for over fifty years. Their daughter was best friends with my husband's late sister since the time they were toddlers. We lost touch with them a year ago when my mother-in-law moved to a nursing home. But for years, we saw them on a regular basis.

I was selfishly thrilled that I only learned about their plight after they had already been found. I can't imagine what they and their family went through during the 24-hour ordeal.

We'll have to bake them some cookies and head on over there in a day or two to see how they are doing. They're modest people. I'm sure they are more embarrassed than anything.





Go find yourself at humor-blogs.com.

Keep Fit/Be Happy

Back in the 1950's, Bonnie Prudden was "America's No. 1 Expert on Physical Fitness." This past November 18, she received the President's Council Lifetime Achievement Award at the age of 93. I'll say one thing about this fitness freak, she sure knew how to dress when she worked out. But, don't let the cute clothes fool you. The liner notes prove she was one tough monkey.

There should be no time out for Sundays...unless that's the day you spend two or three hours on sports.

Check out the creepy guy standing behind her. I think he's trying to sniff her. Run Bonnie, run!

"Happy Thankstaking"

Lakota activist Russel Means, the Center for Science and the Public Interest, PETA, and other assorted cranks, each year come dangerously close to ruining my Thanksgiving. What is it about the fourth Thursday in November that sends Political Correctness into hyper-drive? To the rest of us non-activists, Thanksgiving is about loved ones, turkey and football. It's not about genocide, animal rights or the rising rates of obesity. These busybodies have 364 other days in the year on which they can advance their agendas. Can't they leave us alone for one day so we can attend a parade, stuff ourselves silly and argue with our siblings in peace?

Tomorrow we'll feed the homeless. Tomorrow we'll write a check to the Sierra Club. Tomorrow we'll eat five servings of fruits and vegetables. On Thanksgiving, we just want to give thanks for what we have in our own lives. On Thanksgiving, we want to be just a little bit selfish. After Thanksgiving, we'll save the world. On Thanksgiving, we just want you to pass the gravy... please.

I've decided, instead, that Thanksgiving should be the most Politically Incorrect day of the year. Why not? "Caring" people already think it is anyway so let's really give them something to get upset about. Yesterday, over appetizers, I suggested that perhaps us white folks should sue Native Americans for introducing tobacco to our European ancestors. Sure, we brought them smallpox but think about how many white people have died since Walter Raleigh brought back tobacco. I've been told that Big Tobacco is evil. What about Big Indian?!

And the best part is, many tribes now have casino money so they are no longer judgment-proof. Now, I have a whole year to come up with another politically incorrect idea for next year's dinner. Hmmm...I wonder if I'll be eating alone?

WKRP Turkey Drop

When I first saw the WKRP in Cincinnati Thanksgiving episode, I was convinced it was an instant holiday classic. The line, "As God is my witness, I thought tukeys could fly" is still one of the funniest sitcom lines in history. How could it not be played year after year just like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, "A Christmas Story" or "It's A Wonderful Life." But, sadly, I've hardly seen it since. Thank goodness for YouTube.

Heroes Cross

Friends of mine have started a website called Heroes Cross. The goal is to raise money for charity while simultaneously paying tribute to the folks in our society who are true heroes. It's a lovely idea and I'm always amazed by people who do wonderful things in life yet who think the person next to them is somehow more heroic. (Enter code NCFriends for a discount on shipping.)

One of the not-so-silent partners, Tony Bono, has been a good pal of mine since we were kids. Below is a picture of us after an All-Star Soccer game in the mid '70's. He's in the center, I'm on the far right and his sister, Karen, is just to the left. For the life of me, I can't remember the names of the other two girls.

For some reason, soccer players always squat in pictures. It didn't make sense to me back then and it still doesn't make sense to me now. Tony grew up to be a professional soccer player. I grew up to be a standup comic. To this day, we can still squat on cue, if called upon to do so.

Bed Bath & Beyond Inappropriate

It's the Mangroomer! The do-it-yourself electric back hair shaver! Perfect for that hairy-backed lonely guy on your holiday shopping list!

I can only think of two men who might appreciate receiving the Mangroomer as a gift; your terrorist buddy who must shave his entire body in preparation for Jihad and Robin Williams.

Don't forget to buy the handy extension that turns the Mangroomer into an ass shaver!

Available at yard sales nationwide in 2009.

I Now Pronounce You Upchuck And Larry

Years ago, Philadelphia Mayor, John Street, was against gay marriage. Years ago, Philadelphia Mayor John Street wasn't afraid to say publicly that he was against gay marriage. Years later, Philadelphia Mayor John Street has agreed to help pronounce his deputy secretary, Micah Mahjoubian, and Ryan Bunch husband and husband.

Why the change of heart? Well, the more cynical among us would conclude that the Mayor can smell a good photo op from a mile away. The less cynical would buy the story that he's suddenly okay with same-sex unions. I say actions don't always speak louder than words.

But the 64-year-old mayor, a practicing Seventh-day Adventist, was also clear-- four times in a 30-minute interview last week-- about what the ceremony is not:

"It's not marriage. It's not real marriage. They can't be married. . . . It's not a religious ceremony. I mean, it's not really marriage."

Let's hope they let him make the toast!

Do they really want this guy officiating at their ceremony? "Does anyone here object to the union of this man to this man? Oh wait, I object."

According to the article, in 2003, Street wrote the following email to the publisher of the Philadelphia Gay News.

"The past 3-1/2 years have been a great learning experience for me. Thanks to you . . . and many others I have broadened my horizons, expanded my understanding and set aside some bias and prejudices I previously did not even know I had. I have not changed unless you call growing in wisdom and understanding 'change.' "

That's the equivalent of saying, "I can't be a racist because I have a black friend."

Let's hope I'm wrong and the man is sincere.

Having Mayor Street preside over their union isn't the only strange decision these boys have made lately.

Mahjoubian, 33, and Ryan Bunch, 32, will wear matching black tuxedos with orange vests.

Orange vests? Is it hunting season? Since Philadelphia has one of the highest murder rates in the country, they'd be better off wearing matching bulletproof vests.

Or perhaps they're wearing black and orange because they're huge Flyer's Fans. I can't imagine that our African-American Mayor likes hockey very much. I can say that because I'm not racist...I have a black friend.

From Supreme Court to Sainthood

I love the Supreme Court. To me, they are the coolest geeks in the whole US of A. My dream is that one day I'll be in Los Angeles, minding my own business, when Jay Leno will thrust a microphone in my face and ask me to name one member of the Supreme Court. I, of course, will dazzle him by naming all nine members of SCOTUS. I will then promptly be edited out of the Jaywalking segment because the producers only like to show people who are really really stupid.

Last year, a lawyer friend of mine (yes, lawyers have friends) had a case that was up for consideration by our nation's highest court. He said that if they chose to hear his arguments, I could go with him to the proceedings. I was so excited and, ultimately, so disappointed when his case was rejected. I had visions of a Rocky Horror-esque experience, where I could sit in the audience wearing my Ruth Bader Ginsburg lace dickie, and yell out my opinions right along with the justices. Perhaps it was better that I couldn't attend. But, I would have liked each of them to autograph my Supreme Court trading cards...well, if I actually owned Supreme Court trading cards.

After justices retire, it is rare that you read about them in the news. Usually, because they wait until they are almost dead to vacate their position. In Sandra Day O'Connor's case, she left the bench to take care of her husband who had been suffering from Alzheimer's for the past 17 years. Since then she has kept a fairly low profile. But, as detailed in a touching news article this week, she has decided to speak out.

WASHINGTON (AFP) - When her husband of 55 years began seeing another woman, former US Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O'Connor did not begin high-profile divorce proceedings or condemn his infidelity.

Indeed, it was O'Connor herself who recently went public with the news that her husband John, 77, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease, had struck up a relationship with a woman patient at a care facility in Arizona.

My initial reaction was quite understandably, "What the blazing hell?!" She left her dream job to take care of her husband and he stabs her in the back by taking up with some nursing home floozy! Then I read further.

Before meeting his new romantic interest, who also suffers from Alzheimer's disease, John O'Connor was depressed and had talked of suicide, his son said.

OK, now I'm starting to feel bad.

The former judge chose to reveal her husband's "infidelity" to raise awareness of a lesser-known side of the degenerative brain disease, but did not comment publicly about the new woman in the life of her long-time partner. Experts say it is not uncommon for Alzheimer's patients, who suffer memory loss and tend to live for the moment, to embark on new romantic relationships.

The article goes on to talk about the stress of this phenomenon on loving families. It's heartbreaking and it's one of those stories that makes you wonder what you would do in a similar situation.

"I applaud her. I believe that her support is noble and selfless. She is really looking to support the health of her husband and is concerned only at this point with his happiness and well-being," said Dessel.

"You have to be like Justice O'Connor. You have to be selfless."

Sandra Day O'Connor is a saint. Put this woman back on the Supreme Court. Sorry, Justice Alito, last hired, first fired. Any person who can put aside her own feelings for the good of others is the type of person I want deciding the laws of our land.

I honestly don't know if I could be that selfless. My husband would probably look at me everyday and think, "Who is this strange woman who keeps coming into the nursing home and bitch-slapping my girlfriend?"

I can't even begin to convey to you how awful it is to have a loved one forget who you are. My mother died of a brain anyeurism and, for the few weeks she was in the hospital, she had memory problems. The saddest day of my life was when she looked at me and said, "Who are you?" I was lucky, however, because her memory came back before she passed away.

My heart goes out to Sandra Day O'Connor and her family. That being said, have you seen Samantha Who? the hilarious new ABC show about a woman who has amnesia and tries to reconnect with the loved ones she no longer knows. It really is funny. Seriously. My timing may be bad but the show is quite entertaining.

Guppies, Bubbles and Vibrating Objects

The subtitle is "A Creative Approach to the Teaching of Science to Very Young Children." It certainly is creative. The kid in the center picture looks like he's smoking a joint. Personally, I think "Guppies, Bubbles and Vibrating Objects" is a better title for a creative approach to teaching kids about masturbation. But, really, who has to teach a kid about masturbation? (My apologies to Jocelyn Elders.)

Shoot The Piano Player

I was shopping at my local Goodwill yesterday when Billy Joel's "The Piano Man" started blaring over the sound system. In my younger days, my ears may have actually enjoyed the intrusion. Back then, I was huge Billy Joel fan, buying most of his albums--note that I said albums and not CD's--and tickets to his many performances at the Spectrum in Philadelphia. Now, however, listening to a Billy Joel recording makes me want to get drunk and drive recklessly into storefronts. (Oh wait, that's what Billy does when he listens to his own music.)

But Philly still loves Billy, so it is impossible to be in a retail environment anywhere in the Delaware Valley for more that ten minutes without hearing one of his many annoying hits. (Go ahead I dare you to try to get "Allentown" out of your head now that I've mentioned the song.)

For some unknown reason, as I browsed through the racks of previously worn jeans, I was able able to ignore the tune and pay special attention to the "Piano Man" lyrics. Within minutes, I was enraged. This was strange considering how many times of I've heard this "classic" but, until that moment, I had never realized what a pathetic, sniveling group of losers he's been warbling about all these years. (Sure, the phrase "making love to his tonic and gin" has always annoyed me. For one reason, it should be "gin and tonic" not "tonic and gin." I suspect it was switched merely to make a rhyme. But, mostly, as a big fan of gin and tonics, the idea of some old man making love to a perfectly good cocktail makes me a little uneasy...or is that queasy...or is that unqueasy?)

It could have been the PMS, but I just wanted to go all Dr. Phil on their asses.

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there's someplace that he'd rather be
He says, Bill, I believe this is killing me.
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place

Oh, please! John is a classic underachiever who wears his victimhood the way Boy Scouts wear merit badges. If you want to "get out of this place," John, then just walk out the door. I hear there's a bus leaving for Hollywood in ten minutes. Go to Los Angeles. Get a job as a bartender. Of course, you'll have to learn how to make a gin and tonic rather than a tonic and gin, but you'll adjust. So, stop your whining.

The piano man, it appears, is a classic enabler who would rather collect his free drinks than give his so-called friend harsh, but necessary, life-changing advice. Besides, if John the bartender decides to chase his dream, then the piano man has no excuse to not chase his. They would rather stay put and have a pity party then slug in out with the big boys and risk rejection in their desired profession.

Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talkin' with Davy who's still in the navy
And probably will be for life

Paul's gay! (Not that there's anything wrong with it.) What man doesn't have time for a wife? And Davey's gay too! Otherwise he'd be hanging out with his navy buddies instead of with some pathetic real estate novelist at a bar where the piano guy won't shut up. What the hell is a real estate novelist anyway? It sounds like a profession you make up when you're trying to pick up a strange gay guy.

And the waitress is practicing politics

I don't even know what that means. Is she crazy? Does she think every booth in the bar is a voting booth? "We have Sam Adams on tap and please vote Yes on Proposition 24."

Then, it hit me. I was feeling superior to a bunch of fictional characters while the real-life me was shopping at, of all places, Goodwill. Okay, who's the loser now? Well, at least I'm not bitching about my situation and I bought a brand new pair of Nike sneakers for six bucks.

In fact, we were all pretty happy at America's favorite thrift store chain even though we were sharing a shopping experience called loneliness. But it's better than shopping alone.

La la la de de da.

La La de de da da da.

A Sweet Story

Thanksgiving week is the perfect time to read a heartwarming story about a caring teacher who fought for six years to bring handicapped accessible equipment to her elementary school playground. Hearing about such lovely people always makes me want to do something extraordinarily kind and unselfish for my fellow man--of course, I never do, but I feel better about myself knowing that I want to. Oh yeah, the oh-so-adorable kid in the photo just happens to be my great-nephew Jake.

Facial Exercise of the Month

This is my favorite book. I did the exercises once and couldn't move my face for a week. But, you know the exercises work because they are "scientific."

Joyce Lee, now in her fifties, is a living example of the efficacy of her Method of Scientific Facial Exercises. Her appearance is that of a woman of thirty, full of zest for life replete with the confidence of a continued youthful appearance.

Perhaps we should all just kill ourselves now? I wasn't even "full of zest for life" when I was actually thirty.

My advice is to read the book while drinking a glass of red wine. Sure you'll develop laugh lines, but on page 169 you can learn the correct way of laughing.

Ho Ho Ho!

So far, this is my favorite holiday story of the season. Oh sure, it's no Gift of the Magi, but it is pretty darn humorous.

SYDNEY (AFP) - Santa's in Australia's largest city have been told not to use Father Christmas's traditional "ho ho ho" greeting because it may be offensive to women, it was reported Thursday.

Perhaps we should also drop "red-nosed" from reindeer so as not to offend alcoholics?

Here's a hot tip for our well-meaning but obviously misguided patriarchs Down Under--ho ho ho is not offensive to women. Ho ho ho would only be offensive to...ho's. Has the land of Oz become so politically correct that we are now willing to toss aside holiday traditions for fear of hurting a prostitute's feelings?

I've only talked to a hooker once in my life and, coincidentally, it was in Sydney. My husband and I were watching fireworks being shot from the Sydney Tower when she struck up a conversation with us. I can't remember what we discussed but it had nothing to do with sex or money. Most likely we talked about fireworks. But I do remember that she had sort of a weariness about her that makes me believe she wouldn't be offended by some fat guy in a red suit using the word ho. She'd be more upset if a fat guy in a red suit stiffed her out of 50 bucks after a date in the sleigh.

I can only hope that Sydney's Santa's continue bellowing ho ho ho and completely reject the suggested substitution of ha ha ha. The last thing a kid a needs is to think Santa is mocking him. "Santa I want a truck for Christmas." "Ha ha ha!"

Rejected Us Weekly Fashion Police Jokes

I have been a Top Cop for Us Weekly's Fashion Police since 2001. (Why do men always call it "U.S." Weekly even when they see it spelled with a big "U" and a small "s"?)

Some weeks many of my jokes are published while other weeks I have to settle for just one or two. Below is a partial list of comments that never made it to the newsstand.



Rihanna

It's Braveheart meets Bee Movie.

From the MacAwful Clan.

My eyes are smartin' from that tartan.

On a redneck, it would make a lovely shirt.

A coat that goes with...nothing.

Play Along At Home

For you kids who actually buy Us Weekly (as opposed to reading it while standing in line at the grocery store or killing time at the doctor's office) and want to play at home, here are some more jokes written for the celebrity photos that are not posted online.

Tom Cruise

It's Georgio Armani meets Billy Barty.

Vanessa Minnillo

What happens when hot women pretend they don't care.

Amy Adams

How cute! A dress witb a nose!

Chris Brown

Def Hee Haw Jam.

Paris Hilton

If that's a November outfit, what does she wear at Easter?

Kimberly Stewart

Frantically, she searches for a high heel cast.

Brooke Hogan

Overalls for your knees.

Cisco Alder

His shirt reflects how I feel.

Frances Bean Cobain

Never, never, never play in your mom's closet.

Rumer Willis

Sadly, her underpants say the same thing.



More joking at humor-blogs.com.