You realize, of course, that the only possible explanation for these peculiar events is that Madonna is just profoundly disappointed with and/or revolted by the squiggling brood she actually squirted out herself. That's clearly why she felt compelled to fly to Africa and pick up another one. Maybe her biological offspring smell like hot garbage, or have already started to collect road kill. (It was inevitable, wasn't it?) And God knows that I'd never not imply that if I were in little Lourdes's and/or What's-his-ass's position, I'd totally freak the fuck out and sue the old cow or something. But it's some damn-sick Joan Crawford–ass shit going down at the Madonna house, what with her just up and dumping some disenfranchised African or whatever on those two kids and saying, "Here! Share your massive legacy with this disenfranchised African I just picked up!" I'd bet the farm that those two children are a wee soupçon murderous at the moment. I'd be. If I wasn't such a goddamn philanthropist.

And oh, what a goddamn philanthropist I am!

Speaking of goddamn: It is my spiritual duty to inform you that the pope or whatever has declared several new saints to be recognized by the Catholic Church. Among these new saints, however, were tragically not numbered those of my own personally recognized canon of living saints: Jimmy Carter, patron of nice old coots; Dolly Parton, twangy patron of vast areolae; and Oprah, patron of everything good and noble in the universe except coming out of the closet herself. But in the spirit of the official Vatican event, I'd like to add to my personal list the most obvious new candidate for canonization: Ellen, henceforth to be known as Saint DeGeneres, dancy patron of pastel leisure suits. Please make a note of it. Amen.

"Adrian, Did you know that Chris Cornell and his family are being stalked by a murderous psycho, and they're all in fear for their lives? It's pretty serious. Please don't use my name." —Mr. No Name

Dear Mr. No Name, How do I know the murderous psycho isn't YOU, Mr. "No Name"? Really, now. —Adrian

Speaking of goddamn Oprah: It has been a huge "thing" lately to say that Oprah should run for president. And although I've been known to be quite fond of huge things, I will have it understood that I started endorsing Oprah for president eons ago—long before anyone else jumped on the bandwagon. (Circa 2003!) I offer this item to the ever-growing pile of evidence that I'm so always right about everything first that it's fucking scary, and that Oprah, therefore, is a big repressed lesbian. Mark my words!