As I type this, the Emmys are on. My television, however, is not. Conclude from this information what you will.

And if my TV was the fuck on, I'd be watching the eternal pledge-drive week rerun of that compelling Dr. Wayne Dyer program on PBS. And I couldn't give a crap about The Sopranos anyway. So let's talk Carnie Wilson. Later, though.

First, furthering his mad bid to seize political control of the moss-rich western seaboard, Tom Skerritt (Libertarian) made a high-profile tour of the economically- and socially-devastated Broadway Avenue area. "Who's Tom Skerritt?" an on-the-scene eyewit-ness inquires. Skerritt's visit--perhaps the first of many--culminated in a well-staged promotional power lunch with a daughter (maybe granddaughter) at Gyro World in what's left of the Broadway Market.

Mr. Skerritt--celebrated veteran actor and cute coot--has local celebritologists baffled and concerned by the change in his usual migration patterns, which traditionally track him no further than the remaining Broadway Rite Aid. (Refer to Celebrity I Saw U "Who You Callin' Diva?," Feb 7, 2002.) Conservative critics conjecture that Mr. Skerritt's visit--and ultimate choice of ethnocentric restaurant--was nothing more than another shallow ploy in his unfolding bid for attention and ultimate world domination--like Steel Magnolias. "Tom fucking WHO?" another eyewitness would like to know.

Meanwhile or whatever, lovely lo-cal gal Carnie Wilson, who held on for one more day, was not too long ago what one might call an oinker. A porker. A sow. One who sits AROUND the house (har-har). But everyone breathing knows that Carnie had her stomach stapled or whatever during a live Internet broadcast (me? I fucked Paris Hilton...), and subsequently lost a wee bucketful of tons. Suddenly she's pregnant. This naturally raises several icky questions. Will the baby be born with genetically-mutated staples in its little tummy? Just exactly how weird is it that both of her Wilson Phillips-ish sisters are knocked up too? And is Gwyneth Paltrow really as completely retarded as she seems in her Shallow Hal DVD "special features" section interviews? (Like a stump--swear to God.) And, lastly, do you look fat in those pants? Of course you don't.

Michael Moore, who rips me off somehow, is to appear at KeyArena on October 19, God willing. There will be a Q and A. You are encouraged to attend and convince Mr. Moore to stream Fahrenheit 9/11 free on the Internet, nonstop, forever. (Or at least leak it to LimeWire.) He has a moral responsibility, for Christ's sake. We all do.

Vote Wayne Dyer.