Soul has no godfather. Dead, dead, dead. (You might have heard.) And allegedly everybody loves Raymond, except for the guy who played his father, who is himself quite regrettably deceased at the moment and therefore theoretically incapable of loving anything. (Truthfully speaking, everybody loved Raymond but me, who really hated the fuck Raymond, and I choose to remember his TV dad—Peter Boyle, of course—as the glorious Young Frankenstein he truly was. R.I.P.) Some old president also dropped like a stone pelican, but I'll spare no tears for a Republican. Then, on Christmas Day, some guy I went to high school with was mysteriously murdered two blocks from where I sat (!), so it might be prudent to stop talking about it before the clammy digits of Death worm their way any closer to home. Amen.

(Note to Death: Paris Hilton, Fox News, and that über-annoying "Ty" freak who is like 60 with a voice like a chain-smoking whore, but tries to come off like a really compassionate 12-year-old skater punk. Just, you know, a suggestion.)

In somewhat livelier crap: I rang up Phylicia Rashad's "peeps" at precisely the same moment that I began my futile attempts to contact Jim Castillo for a wee little chat (i.e., butt sex). Mrs. Huxtable got back to me within the hour (interview a-pending), but our snooty local weather man? Nary a peep. Peepless. Sans peep, indeed. As to the motives behind Jim Castillo's total ignoring of me, I refuse to conjecture. But some people who might be me suspect that he's merely intimidated by my legendary good looks and devastating penis. (And for that, who can blame him?) Or perhaps it's because I tend to stalk him, and encourage others to do likewise. Whatever the case, I challenge Mr. Castillo—hell, the entire KOMO News crew—to a public breakdancing contest at my earliest possible convenience (also pending).

'At's right. You sukahs got SERVED.

"Dear Adrian: Jim Castillo? Eeww, he has a lazy eye! Check out the hot guy on Channel 13—Bill Wixey. I think he's HOT!" —D. Evans

"Dear D. Evans: You're right. Breakdance contest canceled." —Adrian

Please to note: The 20 million exclamation points that originally appeared in the above letter have been removed for your protection. Thank you.

Lastly: That ridiculous ex-boyfriend (read: gold-digging publicity whore) of Lance Bass is suing some fat gossip blogger for being mean to him, and my lawyers have advised me to shut up now. Over.