I just got Dr. Slump #5 today, and I'm feeling pretty smug. Twenty-some years ago I was an exchange student in Japan, and I read Dr. Slump. It was a teen gag comic, and with my limited Japanese, I got most of the gags. I still flip through my Dr. Slump books, and I still laugh at them.

Now I'm reading the translations, and I'm not finding the jokes as funny. I wonder if it's because the thrill of actually understanding them in Japanese was part of the enjoyment.

By the way, the art is by Akira Toriyama, the coloring is by me. And no, I'm not going to explain the joke. You will have to buy to book to find out.

Washington, D. C. has become the latest city to ban smoking in bars and restaurants. With all the breathless awe that the news is being reported with, you would think that smoking was the most important issue facing the nation.

If smoking is that bad, ban it. Make the growing and harvesting of tobacco illegal. Make the manufacture of tobacco products illegal. Make the shipping of tobacco products illegal. Make the sale of tobacco products illegal. Make the possession of tobacco products illegal. Just ban it!

Think about it, if we ban tobacco, we can stop paying subsidies to tobacco farmers for the failing prices the decrease in demand brings. Of course, the government will not have any tobacco excise taxes coming in. States won't have any tobacco excise taxes coming in. And tobacco companies won't be able to pay their portion of the tobacco settlement because they won't be taking in any revenue. Magazines will have to increase their cover prices and ad rates to compensate for the lack of tobacco advertising. NASCAR would lose some of it's biggest sponsors. And thousands of people will be laid off in the manufacturing, advertising and sales departments of tobacco companies. But at least no babies would be exposed to second hand smoke.

I say, ban tobacco today! Why pussyfoot around?

I didn't really think they could do it. I really thought they would choke. They're a Texas team, after all.

But not this year!

have I mentioned I'm a Longhorn?

Someone posted this on FARK. I love this poster. Does anyone know who created it?

Thanks goodness the Holidays (oops I mean all three Christmas Days: Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. "Reason for the season," and all.) are over. Although, the College Bowl games are doing their best to extend them another week. I stopped by the local Megalomart yesterday, and the Christmas stuff was gone, replaced by Valentine's Day merchandise.

Already?

What about our January holiday: MLK day? Hasn't Big Business figured out a way to make us buy each stuff for that yet? What's holding them back? Are we so racist that we'll only give each other gifts on a white guy's birthday? We buy sheets an pillows on Presidents' Day, don't we?

I feel a new crusade coming on: Martin Luther King Day presents, a Martin Luther King day tree, and, more importantly Martin Luther King Day bonuses!

Kevin Smith made a couple of entries on his blog and I noticed he has seen Brokeback Mountain "...over the course of the last two weeks, I’ve learned to look back fondly on shitting through hemorrhoids – for I’ve had to learn to shit through…

"An anal fissure.

"Those of you who are long-time Stern listeners have probably heard the term before, but according to my proctologist, almost 60% of any given collection of one hundred people are familiar with the condition itself, if not the clinical term. An anal fissure is a tear or rip in the sphincter that travels up the colon in varying lengths. I’m guessing mine happened when a hemorrhoid broke during a particularly tough bowel movement (though, after watching “Brokeback Mountain” last night, I can’t imagine how Jake Gylenhall’s character couldn’t not be sporting an anal fissure of his own after his first, spontaneous mountain-top tryst with Heath Ledger’s Ennis Del Mar, when only a palm full of saliva acted as lubricant; fucking ouch), and it’s made my life a living hell ever since.

[snip - Basically, went to the proctologist yada yada yada]

". . .he could easily see I was suffering from an anal fissure, and that any probe deeper would cause me to leap off the table. He gave me prescriptions for two creams – one to be applied three times daily around the “peri-anal” area, and the other to be applied when needed, for pain. I’m not sure what the first cream does, but the second is essentially a topical numbing agent. I rub it in, and my asshole goes to sleep. If I ever found myself up on Brokeback Mountain, this is the cream I’d want to have in my rucksack… and in my asshole. [snip - more yada yada yada] "The moral of the story: drink lots of water (it’s a natural stool softener, apparently), spend as little time sitting on the bowl as possible (stop, drop, and go), never “bear down” (if the shit ain’t ready to come out by itself, don’t force it out by straining; just wait), and don’t lick cuts on your body – you’d be better off rubbing shit into them instead (though don’t do that either).

"Without good rectal health, you have nothing."

Sorry, the last two paragraphs were just to wrap up the story.

And while Kevin Smith has seen Brokeback Mountain, Larry David (of Seinfeld) fame, has not.

"I haven't seen "Brokeback Mountain," nor do I have any intention of seeing it. In fact, cowboys would have to lasso me, drag me into the theater and tie me to the seat, and even then I would make every effort to close my eyes and cover my ears.

"And I love gay people. Hey, I've got gay acquaintances. Good acquaintances, who know they can call me anytime if they had my phone number. I'm for gay marriage, gay divorce, gay this and gay that. I just don't want to watch two straight men, alone on the prairie, fall in love and kiss and hug and hold hands and whatnot. That's all.

"Is that so terrible? Does that mean I'm homophobic? And if I am, well, then that's too bad. Because you can call me any name you want, but I'm still not going to that movie."

[snip - yada yada yada (appropriate, no?)]

"If two cowboys, male icons who are 100 percent all-man, can succumb, what chance to do I have, half- to a quarter of a man, depending on whom I'm with at the time? I'm a very susceptible person, easily influenced, a natural-born follower with no sales-resistance. When I walk into a store, clerks wrestle one another trying to get to me first. My wife won't let me watch infomercials because of all the junk I've ordered that's now piled up in the garage. My medicine cabinet is filled with vitamins and bald cures."

[snip - yet again -last time, I swear]

"I just know if I saw that movie, the voice inside my head that delights in torturing me would have a field day. "You like those cowboys, don't you? They're kind of cute. Go ahead, admit it, they're cute. You can't fool me, gay man. Go ahead, stop fighting it. You're gay! You're gay!"

"Not that there's anything wrong with it."

Well, after reading those two reviews, I'm reminded of a bit by Ron White. He was trying to prove that his redneck friend was a little gay.

Ron - So do you like porn?
Friend - I love porn, man.
Ron - Do you like to see two women together?
Friend - Hell, no. I wanna see a big throbbing coc. . . I did not know that about me.

Me? I'm avoiding Brokeback Mountain like the plague. But when you see it, and I know you will, don't tell me what a wonderful love story it was. I watched the first Dukes of Hazzard Reunion movie, and I'm still pissed that Daisy jilted Enos at the alter.

Happy New Year, everyone.

We're having a less traditional dinner: Alton Brown's baby back ribs, black-eyed peas and cornbread. And I'm cooking.