My victory lap

This column resembles Muhammad Ali’s return to the ring to fight Joe Frazier in 1971. I’m back, kiddies, for one last coup de grace – a victory lap, if you would. I extend my right index finger, raise my arm above my head, high five President Turner and begin my jog.

Which social injustices shall I tackle this semester? Upon whom shall I unleash my wrath? Why didn’t I clean my apartment before going home for break?

Did you miss me?

I must admit that I sure missed me. What an awful time to be a columnist without a column. Al Gore went on every talk show known to man to hype his book and to tiptoe the fence about his candidacy for president in 2004. He even hosted “SNL.” Ladies and gentlemen, to whichever political party you may belong, we can all agree that Al Gore is not funny. And then he didn’t even run. It was all to hype his book about family, co-written by a grown woman named Tipper.

I’m quite disappointed; watching Dubya and Al argue reminded me of my elementary school days when the chubby nerd and the dumb bully had at it.

And then we have Sen. Lott from Mississippi. I have friends, including my roommate, from that state. They are generally good people. Trent Lott is not. I would be ashamed if my democratically elected government official, let alone senate majority leader, made clearly racist statements on so many occasions. Though some Republicans may argue that his comments were taken out of context and the article in typically liberal Newsweek skewed the country’s opinion, the man is clearly an ignorant fool. When I wake up Monday next, I will first be thankful for Martin Luther King Jr. Then I’ll curse the name Trent Lott.

And then right around the end of the year, every news program informed us that a number of Middle Eastern men had sneaked into our country through Canada. Damn, Canada – a little help here. You see, we’re trying to keep the bomb wielding maniacs outside of our country. Maybe a mounted police force is somewhat out of date. Though a horse provides suitable means for travel, it’s hard to beat an automobile these days.

And I completely missed my chance to wax humorous about “Joe Millionaire.” Now everyone, even the single guy, has chimed in. At any rate, my friend Thomas and I think it’s all a big sham, and that the show will give our Joe a pile-o-cash after they make him tell the lucky lady he makes less than his butler. And by the way, who does that butler think he is? His accent is Australian / British / snooty professor-ish. Boo him.

Actually, said show provided one of the funniest moments in reality television Monday night when one girl who did not receive a sapphire necklace began pouting and speaking sloppy French. Of course, the only moment any of us really care to see will come during the final few minutes of the final show. It reminds me of the Oscars, ironically, though I doubt “Joe Millionaire” will claim any awards this year.

And what about the Raelians? They believe that aliens starting the human race, they have a compound called – get this – UFOland and they claim to have cloned a baby, whom they’ve named Eve. Fifty-five thousand people follow Rael, their Frenchman leader. After hours of pondering this phenomenon, I’ve decided to start my own cult . . . I mean, group. We’re called the Tollesites, and we believe that human beings came from Central Market. I’d like to announce that we’ve just cloned a roast beef sandwich, and it tastes delicious.

I’m back, my little buckies, so you can all relax. You got me for one last semester, and after that you’ll be left to think for yourselves. Until then, young people, everything will be just fine.