LIFE IS FUNNY, isn't it? NO! NO, IT ISN'T! Life is certainly NOT funny, and it's especially NOT funny when NOT funny things are happening to ME. I'll admit I'm guilty of inflicting cruel and unusual punishment upon others (especially the "unusual" kind... rrrrrowrrrr!), and that I'm long overdue for some sort of karmic comeuppance. However! Until recently I was convinced I had a virtually foolproof method of avoiding Fate's backlash.
See, the trick to avoiding karmic retribution is to make fun of as many people as humanly possible. Example: While you're spending your day practicing random acts of kindness, I'm laughing at people with funny walks, ridiculing children's singing voices, and dispensing wedgies. As we all know, "karma" is a pretty simple procedure--you do something bad, something bad happens to you. However, by loading up my day with the mindless torture of others, I foil Fate simply by giving her too much work to do. Unable to keep up with suitable punishments for me, Fate simply throws up her hands in defeat, turning her attention to making some hippie stink because he forgot to compost his banana peels.
Which brings me to Kathie Lee Gifford. As you know, I rarely have a nice word to say about the co-host of Live! With Regis & Kathie Lee. In fact, I have devoted no less than 27 columns to Her Glibness, mercilessly teasing her about sweatshops, her geriatric and unfaithful husband Frank, as well as her spoiled son Cody (seen most recently urinating on a stack of pastel sweaters at Baby GAP). However, apparently even Fate can take only so much rib-ticklin', and decided that after 27 columns, it was high time for Humpy to take a few lumpies.
As fans of Kathie Lee undoubtedly realize, she recently released a new CD of songs (which sounds something like a cat being shoved ass-first through a meat grinder). And last week, while she was signing copies of the disc in a New Jersey mall, an unrecognized male walked up, took out a bag full of mice, and dumped them right on her precious feet. As expected, Kathie Lee leapt on top of her chair, grabbed the edges of her skirt, and began screaming "EEEEEEE!! EEEEEEE!! EEEEEEE!!" (which we all recognize as the international symbol for being scared by a mouse).
Anyhoo, the mice dumper escaped the long arm of mall security and got away scot-free, leaving a grateful nation clutching their guts in hilarity. But here's the thing! Now the cops are looking for the guy, and guess who's their main suspect? ME. Regardless of the fact that I wouldn't be caught dead in the crab-infested state of New Jersey (of all places!), local authorities are convinced I'm Kathie Lee's public enemy #1, and the obvious perpetrator. Look, pigs: First of all, I don't work with mice, I work with words--and sometimes with paid escorts. Second, if I wanted to get Kathie Lee, I'd do it the old-fashioned way... by sticking a dead tuna in her air-conditioning vent. And third, I couldn't have dumped those mice on her gunboats, because I was too busy at the time having very unusual sex with an I Love Television™ reader who will be happy to back up my story. (Right? AM I RIGHT?)
So to all you New Jersey oinkers, Kathie Lee's legal team, and especially FATE, you can all kiss my honey-baked goodness, 'cause you'll never pin this hilarious crime on ME! Besides, those weren't mice--they were gerbils.... Whoops!
Send all potential alibis to steve@thestranger.com.
