When I was in high school, I wanted to have my own newspaper column where townspeople would mail in questions and I would give them timely answers. (This wish was just under "A Night With Carmen Electra" on my The Ten Things I Want to Do Before The Robot Apocalypse Destroys America list. Back then, I was pretty horny and she was still of some relevance.) Really, I wanted to use the column as a platform to screw with people's lives - you know, tell them that lice infestations are hereditary and that drinking copious amounts of room-temperature milk can scramble drug test results. Stuff like that. But, alas, I never received my own column (if I did, I damn sure wouldn't be blogging to you idiots right now). Sometimes, when I think about it, I get a little choked up. That’s why you should never dream, kids. Ever. Shoot low and you’ll never disappoint yourself.
Unless you’re retarded, of course. Then every day that you wake up is a disappointment.
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