Previously in New Column!

So you've decided to commit seppuku. Now what? To help you with the task, here is a handy tutorial. Enjoy!

Step #1: Purchase a Sharp Sword!

A dull blade can lead to ragged cutting and the expenditure of much "elbow grease" during the ceremony. Therefore, it is important that the sword be razor-sharp.

Step #2: Find a Buddy!

One of the most important parts of seppuku is the kaishaku, or assistant. The kaishaku's task is to slice off your head after you have completed the ceremony, and should therefore be a close friend, family member, or crudely jilted ex-lover.

Step #3: Decide Where to Die!

You only die once, so the location of your seppuku ceremony should be as pleasant as possible. I suggest a sunny field, a well-tended garden, or the pleasantly air-conditioned lobby of an upscale office building.

Step #4: Go for It!

Kneel down in your chosen location and slowly insert the sword into your abdomen. The desired spot is about three inches left or right of your navel, depending on which hand you use. Once the sword is inserted, gently slice it across your stomach, then upward toward your chest. Remove sword when finished.

Step #5: Inspect Your Work!

If done properly, most of your internal organs should have spilled out across your lap. If no internal organs are visible, repeat act until the job has been done correctly. Once finished, your kaishaku should then lop off your head in one clean blow.

Good luck, and happy cutting!

You Guys Suck

After receiving countless complaints about our flawlessly brilliant "Stupid, Stupid" column series (including "Stupid, Stupid Baby," "Stupid, Stupid Kitten," and "Stupid, Stupid Crouton"), we issued our readers a challenge: Come up with a column worth a rat's ass and we'll run it -- and pay you $25. Eagerly we awaited our gifted readers' pearls of wit and wisdom, but as the responses poured in, we were forced to concede that you guys suck.

A few words on the "New Column!" criteria: Any entry that did not include the exclamation point after the words "New Column" was automatically disqualified; if you do'nt have respect for punctuation, you got no place at The Stranger. Same goes for all entries employing the phrase "Stupid, Stupid" anything -- if we wanted more of those, we would've written them ourselves. Lastly, any entry involving poetry and/or the inherent hilarity of adding the words "in bed!" to the phrase found inside a fortune cookie was instantly ground to dust.

You'd think that out of nearly 200 responses we'd find at least one winner, but even the "best" of readers' pitches made our worst ideas ("Hairy, Hairy Ass Crack," "Sexy, Sexy Five-Year-Old") look like masterpieces of sass and style. And while Stranger staffers are traditionally a self-hating lot, after reading the crap you guys sent in, we're all strutting around like a bunch of Pulitzer Prize-winning swells. Thanks for the strokes!

In closing, we'd like to acknowledge that although we found no workable columns, we did find a small handful of near-misses, including Leah Weathersby's insightful "Freddie Prinze Is No Kirk Cameron," Johnny B's poignant "Dead," Matthew Pidgeon's creepy photos of embalmed baby animals, and Scott Lamb's passionate celebration of fire, "Christ! That Fucking Burns!" Our congratulations to these promising young upstarts, who will be splitting the $25 cash prize.

Dear Furious Vegetarian:

What ever happened to Carnie Wilson? She was my favorite member of Wilson Phillips, the talented trio whose hit song "Hold On" took them to the top of the charts in the early '90s. The other two girls may have had models' figures, but Carnie had soul. I loved her talk show a few years back. What's she been up to since then?

-- Trisha Wharton, Ames Lake, WA

Dear Trisha:

Eating meat is wrong. It perpetuates violence against all living things; it makes people fat and stupid; and it depletes our natural resources. Did you know that the amount of grain fed to a single beef cow is enough to feed every orphan in America for four weeks? Of course not. You're too busy listening to Wilson Phillips and eating bloody, murderous meat. As for Carnie "Carnivore" Wilson, she recently recorded a duet with fellow meat-nazi James Ingram for the soundtrack of Cats Don't Dance, a film I will certainly picket, as cats most certainly do dance, and are our equals in every way. In August, Carnie had her big, fat, meat-packed stomach surgically stapled, with footage of the operation broadcast live on the Internet -- something that should happen to every meat-eating monster in America, right before they're herded up and shipped off to the slaughterhouse, where they will be butchered like the innocent animals they all hate so much.

P.S. Boycott The Stranger.