Okay, so I'm a jerkhole, and it's not just because I'm scrawling my column like a goddam third-grader. Actually, I always write like this, but my editor makes our intern type it on a computer. Now, not only am I free to draw pictures like this... (a picture of a booby goes here) but the intern has time to do the important work... like rubbing my aching corns.

But I digress. See, the reason I'm a doorknob is because I was so convinced the world was ending, I stopped paying bills in October. So, while Y2K may be over for YOU, I'm still eating cold Vienna sausages, living in cousin Chet's basement, and drinking my own urine. (Groan if you want, but add a couple packs of grape Flavor-Aid, and it ain't so bad!)

Naturally, the worst part is living without TV. I mean, the Humphreys come from hearty pioneer stock; complete with beefy physiques and wide birth canals. However! Being forced to miss the WB's breakout show, Jack Jill? It's fawking unbearable!! Of course, I can always watch TV at the Crackhead Laundromat down the street, but why should I have to get in a fist fight every time those hop-heads want their precious Antiques Roadshow?

Anyway, though my cable and electric will probably be back next week, I would really appreciate it if someone could set their VCR for Ripley's Believe It or Not (January 12, 8:00 p.m., TBS). It's all about this tribe in India that actually eats human flesh! And (get this!) they've never even heard of Y2K! The way I figure it, maybe these cats know something I don't, and I'm really sick of Vienna sausages. (Hmm... now if I only have enough packs of grape Flavor-Aid....)