Rehab will not necessarily make one fat. Hammer that silly notion right out of your head. It's merely that a few million itty-bitty pre-recovery trips through the Spoon and Needle Buffet will almost undoubtedly conclude with one's relative thinness. Taking into account the sober and corpulent recent unpleasantness afflicting Courtney Love (fat, fat, FAT!), it becomes soberingly apparent to any reasonable brain that the one and only legitimate way to take the blubber off and keep it the fuck off is, indeed, the Drugs. Barring the wretched heavings of advanced bulimia and/or a wasting viral infection. But that goes without saying. Either way, your teeth fall out. Word.

Sometimes the deeper implications get lost in the intensity of the moment. It's important to reflect.

"Dear Adrian, You can quit making insinuations about Michael Jackson. If you didn't know, he was found innocent. Yours, Dana."

Dear Dana, There is no Dana. Only Zool.

Elsewhile: There seems to be some character called Scott Weiland. Apparently he is somehow famous. I make this deduction based upon the fan-like twitterpations of an apparent lady called Mary Beth, who wrote claiming to have seen this Scott Weiland person. ("He wore eyeliner... the whole time!") She also mentioned something about a paddleboat, a bodyguard, and Wallingford. The issue remains simply too vague and peculiar to discuss any further at this point. Thank you.

"Dear Adrian: Regarding Ryan Seacrest, I hate him very much. Whatever happened to Brian Dunkleman? —Kelsey from California"

Dear Kelsey: Upon further reflection, Courtney Love never really was what you'd call a toothpick to begin with, come to think of it, was she? Word.

In final boy-plumbing aliens: "Dear Adrian: I ran into Mario Lopez and his mantourage... I made a bathroom stop, only to discover Mario—in a stall—talking on his cell phone about 'deep, dark secrets'! At that point, I flushed... just to make sure all of his secrets were on the table. Worst of all, his pants were dropped to the ground... ick! —Craig"

Dear Craig: I understand. Mario Lopez makes me really horny, too. I refuse to elaborate.

Lastly: Obscure and terrible forces report that one or more so-called Indigo Girls made a semi-fresh appearance at, indeed, Vivace on Broadway. Of course this information is hardly expected to expunge the awful memory of the recent visit to the very same Vivace by Mrs. and Mr. Mary Kay and Milli Vanilli Letourneau (I saw Jay Leno there once too! Like 100 years ago!), nor to prevent Angelina Jolie from adopting another herd of Vietnamese babies and giving them all trendy names and my haircut. Britney Spears remains a revolting whore.

Send! adrian@thestranger.com