Every so often a stranger penetrates the thin veneer that shields my perceptions, challenges my shallow take on the universe and reminds me – there’s some hysterical people living in New Jersey. Not The Shining sort of hysterical, but a proper fitting strait jacket and a shot of Thorazine just might help them focus.

Picture a cool September morning in $tarbucks, as I add sugar and cream to my to go coffee at the kiosk. A $tarbucksDad holds a 1 year old boy in his arms nearby.

$tarbucks Dad: You got a watch?
sam: Yeah.
$tarbucks Dad: What time is it?
sam( pours milk ): Gimme a second.
$tarbucks Dad( no pause ): Come on, what time is it?
sam( adds sugar ): One second, OK?
$tarbucks Dad( no pause ): I’m in a hurry.

Tasting the coffee, I decide the brew needs more sugar and add it. Satisfied, I check my watch for a long second and then smile at $tarbucks Dad.

$tarbucks Dad: You keeping it a secret?
sam( walks away ): Yes, sir. I am.

One of the hottest websites on the Internet right now, safe for viewing at work � although definitely not in front of the wife or girlfriend is hotornot.com.

Started as a joke a little over a year ago, the site generates millions of dollars in ad revenue and is neither porn nor a nasty or illegal scam.

The concept is simple. Members create a small profile and post their picture ( fully clothed ). Site visitors assign a rating from 1 to 10. If interested, they can also click Yes to meet the person � although the original poster must agree by visiting the requesters profile and clicking Yes as well.

Perhaps we could apply this same concept to the voting process. Candidates could post their picture, and whoever draws the most requests to meet them wins. If your candidate won’t at least agree to meet for a cup of coffee are they really fit to decide how to spend the extortion money, er I mean taxes they collect from you on your behalf?

Do you find yourself sick of political mudslinging, political mugging, political ads or politics in general?

Well amen my brothers and sisters! Because, if I had a TV right now, I’d launch it through a window – screen first. Who cares who did what 33 years ago while drunk or sober?

I don’t want to Rock the vote, Move on, Anyone but X or It’s all about Y. That’s where I’m at in the constituency – the sick of it all vote.

Enough pandering and baby kissing, let’s run this charade like Survivor and get some entertainment out of it at least. Whoever connives their way to the top gets the fabulous prizes, the book deal and the endorsements. Ditch the scripts and the sound bites and the staged appearances already and rumble in the jungle!

And the runner up? The runner up goes running home to mama.

Sometimes the laundry backs up to such a ridiculous levels, scattering the clothes across the front lawn and torching them seems better than washing them. If that leap of logic makes sense to you, then welcome to the Bell Jar.

After experimenting with a variety of laundry schedules – once a week, twice a week, once every other week, once a month – a pattern of truths has emerged:

1) Regardless of the height of the clothes pile, laundry takes longer than planned
2) Clothes always get dirty
3) Tragically, cleaning by thermal compaction – a method that failed me so well as a bachelor, fails me as a married man.
4) Buying new underwear instead of doing the laundry upsets the Wife. Perhaps panties would make more sense for instead of boxer shorts.

Excuse me, the buzzer went off. I must attend to the 6th load of the day.