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A MADMAN’S GUIDE TO LIFE

No sense kidding ourselves anymore, this world has really gotten away from us. Why even pretend we know what’s going on anymore? Hell, we can’t even name half the countries anymore. What the hell is Kyrgyzstan? How exactly are you supposed to pronounce that? Is there a Kyrgyzr language, too? No one remembers anything remotely like that from Geography class. But it’s not only the explosion of new countries, it’s everything. Even baseball has lost its mind, playing the World Series right into November, the middle of football season. With blind umpires, no less.

You wonder why there’s even newspapers anymore. All they are these days are daily confirmations that the whole world has gone batty. Balloon boys? What? Suicide bombers killing their own kind? What’s the point? What happened to blowing up infidels? At least that gave a little rationale to the whole deal. Not a lot, but something you could try to wrap your head around. Then there’s the news that Sarah Palin is a bestselling author. Who knew she could even read? And then you see Glen Beck’s picture on the cover of Time Magazine. What, Jerry Lewis was busy that week?

Truly the time has come to just let it all hang out and go completely batshit crazy. In a world where the most famous people on earth are Paula Abdul, Muamar Ga-Daffy and the Geico lizard, it’s not like anyone’s going to notice. So maybe we should consider doing the following:

Call up your boss and tell him you won’t be in today because the weather report said there was an 80% chance of locusts.

Put on leotards, ballet slippers and a black turtleneck and organize a “Ballet Karaoke Night” at your local bowling alley lounge, dancing favorite selections from “Swan Lake” and “The Nutcracker.”

Wear one of those bluetooth ear pieces hooked up to a string and a paper cup, then shout into it all day long that your signal is weak.

Build a replica of the Statue of Liberty out of recycled Kitty Litter.

Auction one of your kidneys on e-Bay.

When waiting on line at the bank, announce that this is not a stickup.

Start a charity to save the pigeons.

Send a monthly bill to your friends for services rendered. Offer discount rates for nights and weekends.

Get several inflatable sex dolls to be your “posse,” and take them everywhere when your cheapskate friends refuse to pay up.

When asked to remove your shoes at the airport, take off your pants too.

Start building an ark on your front lawn and take applications from the neighbors for their pets.

Collect signatures on a petition to change the National Anthem to “Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through The Goal Posts of Life.”

Tell your blind girlfriend you’ll understand if she wants to see other people.

Sing “99 Bottles of Beer on The Wall” all the way through every day on the subway, urging your fellow commuters to sing along. That ought to start everybody’s day in a jolly mood.

Organize a vacation trip to Rome that features sacking and looting.

Get a tattoo on each forearm saying “left” and “right.”

Offer your services on Craig’s list as an imaginary friend.

Install Lunar Power panels on your roof to generate electricity at night.

Sign up for Twitter, and send only one message 50 times a day: “Help!”

Wear a parachute on elevators and keep a hand on the rip chord, just in case.

Spray red paint on live minks and ermines.

Start a Phone Book Of The Month Club.

Send all your written communication in hieroglyphics of your own devising.

Open a diner that serves only parsley, cole slaw, pickles and ice water.

Start a campaign for the Olympic Games to include Extreme Hop Scotch.

Start thinking that maybe there is a way to turn Afghanistan into Idaho.

Climb Mount Rushmore to fulfill your lifelong ambition of carving the faces of the Olsen Twins onto it.

Go to a football game with your own referee’s whistle and a bunch of extra footballs to throw to the players when they drop the ball.

On casual Fridays, wear a loin cloth to the office.

When you go to open school night, demand that the teachers explain exactly why your little Billy isn’t learning to be as handsome as Brad Pitt. Do this even if you have no children.

Start e-mailing Nigerian princes that you’re willing to accept 5 million dollars American, no questions asked.

Open a Celebrity Stalking Service.

When running for president, participate in a debate on the issues between yourself and several of the leading sock puppets.

Look up that fifth dentist and ask him why he’s so damned disagreeable.

Go to Starbucks and order a regular coffee, black, no sugar.

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