WHEN BLACK FRIDAY COMES…
By Hampton Stevens

On Black Friday, Page 2 suggests not leaving the house. This might come as a shock, but we suggest not going out on the busiest shopping day of the year. Instead, avoid the mobs of Christmas-crazed moms rampaging through shopping malls like drunk English soccer fans after a bad loss. Stay home, shop online and watch ESPN. You'll be so glad you did. Online or off, though, while spending your last dime on gifts for family, friends, pets, co-workers and the mailman, don't forget all the sports stars in your life. Page 2 knows what everyone has on their holiday wishlist.

First, the folks who are easy to buy for. Like Jimmy Clausen, who needs boxing lessons. Or Jimmie Johnson, who needs a bigger trophy case. Bears' wideout Devin Hester clearly could use a new belt. Boise State just wants Okalahoma to beat Okalahoma State, which doesn't seem like so much to ask. Lions' rookie Matthew Stafford could use a sling. Not for the shoulder he hurt against the Browns, but for the colossal cojones it took to pull off that win.

LeBron James has been hinting around for a new wheelbarrow. With Shaq coming back from injury, and another 300 pounds of deadweight to carry, James is going to need it. Tarheel coach Roy Williams has just one holiday wish -- anyone who can shoot from outside.

Theo Epstein is very easy to shop for. He wants Roy Halladay. The New York Mets are even easier. They could use a catcher, middle-reliever, leftfielder with power (ala' Matt Holliday or Jason Bay) and new second-baseman if Luis Castillo gets traded. The New York Yankees, of course, don't really "need" anything. But they still have the same wishlist that they always do -- every other team's best players.

Then, the gift-giving gets a little trickier. With Ben Roethlisberger concussed and Charlie Batch out for six weeks, what can you get the Steelers' fan in your life -- a Dennis Dixon jersey? The Buffalo Bills want a head coach, but Bill Cowher, Mike Holmgren, Jon Gruden and (probably) Mike Shanahan won't fit. Allen Iverson wants a phone call from a contender --- and a body that can still backup his ego.

Jeff Fisher is asking Santa for a time-machine so he can start Vince Young three weeks ago. Tim Tebow, Toby Gerhart, Colt McCoy, Mark Ingram and C.J. Spiller all want a Heisman, but Santa only has one in his bag. Texas A&M coach Mike Sherman, like Ralphie and his Air Rifle, wants an upset over Texas to save his job. He promises not to put an eye out.

Jerry Jones is asking for a hard-to-find gift. He wants the a welterweight bout between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather held Cowboys Stadium -- with Dave Campo and Terence Newman as an undercard. Oh, and the Cowboys could use an offense.

Finally, the poor New Jersey Nets just want one, measly NBA win. One. We only hope some team out there takes pity and gives them a gift.

PAGE 2's NASCAR POSTSEASON AWARDS

Yeah, right. It's not over. Jimmie Johnson needs to finish 25th or better in Miami to win his fourth straight Sprint Cup title. Child, please. It's so over. Johnson could finish 25th driving blindfolded and steering with his feet. All that's left of NASCAR's 2009 season is handing out the postseason awards. Page 2 has the trophies that maters.

BEST NASCAR WIFE/GIRLFRIEND: Eva Busch, Kurt's wife, made a strong move this year. Jeff Gordon's wife and Euro-MILF, Ingrid Vandebosch, almost regained the title she lost to Ashley Judd last season. January Jones was at the Kansas Cup race and supposedly clicked with Tony Stewart. Our winner, though, is Lynne "Kush" Kushnirenko. Sure, her husband AJ Allmendinger had a rough year. No wins on the track and a DUI off it. He still goes home to a former Miss Molson and Playboy Cyber Girl famous for how well she handles a baton. What? She's a two-time national baton-twirling champion of Canada. Get your minds out of the gutter.

WORST NASCAR WIFE /GIRLFRIEND: Ashley Judd, because she left the sport. Just because her husband Dario Franchitti went back to IndyCar, that was no reason for her to go with him.

BEST PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: No question. Tony Stewart, hawking Whoppers.

WORST PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: One word: ESTRADA!

FUNNIEST CAR SPONSOR: For three races, Martin Truex was sponsored by GPS-maker Tom-Tom, prompting millions of fans across America to make the same, obvious, but still funny joke. Namely, that Truex had a generic female voice in the car telling him to "Turn left in 500 feet…Turn left in 500 feet…Turn left in 500 feet…" for three consecutive hours.

UN-FUNNIEST CAR SPONSOR: When you watch the Ford 300 on ESPN this weekend, root for the cars backed by Citi Financial and BB&T. Both got federal money in the financial bailouts, so, technically, both are sponsored by the taxpayers. Presumably, we get champagne if one wins.

BEST OLD GUY: Mark Martin, duh. He's old enough to join the AARP but was the only driver to even challenge Johnson in the Chase. Sure, it's cool that Tom Watson can hit a fairway at age 59. Martin, only nine years younger, hits 200 mph every week in a pack of 43 bumping and banging racecars.

WORST OLD GUY: Denny Hamlin. Yes, he's only 29. He still whines like a cranky grandpa.

BEST FACIAL HAIR: Sam Hornish clearly spends hours a day on sideburn maintenance. Martin Truex is obsessed with Elvis and looks it. But we'll go with Dale Earnhardt Junior -- mostly because of his supernatural ability to always have a roguish, three-day stubble. Just another reason that Junior is NASCAR's biggest star. He's like Elvis. Except, you know, without all the success.

WORST FACIAL HAIR: Paul Menard and his ever-changing topiary of goatees, soul patches and Martin van Buren-esque muttonchops. If only he drove as well as he groomed.

BEST DRIVER NAME: Scott Speed. He didn't do much in his No. 84 Red Bull. Whatever. His name is Scott Speed. If he wasn't a driver, he could have his own cartoon.

WORST DRIVER NAME: Max Papis. He's a likable man and solid driver. Nevertheless, "Max Papis" sounds a retired tailor in New Jersey.

BEST FINISH: Leading on the last lap of the Aaron’s 499 at Talladega, Carl Edwards is hit, spins, flips upside-down, bounces off the Turn Four catch-fence and rolls to a stop, his car a spectacular, smoking mess. Edwards then crawls from the wreck and jogs Ricky Bobby-style across the finish line for the greatest 24th-place in the history of motorsports. Oh yeah, Brad Keselowski won the race.

WORST FINISH: Anything involving the words "fuel mileage."

BEST RACE NAME: Darlington called their race the Southern 500 -- a simple, classic title that harkens to the sport's cherished roots.

WORST RACE NAME: The Watkins Glen race, sponsored by a snack-food maker, was called the "Heluva Good! Sour Cream Dips at The Glen." That's barely English.

BEST PAINT JOB: The No. 26 Crown Royal Ford. Granted, the jeweled crown on a velvet pillow doesn't inspire fear. But with Jack Daniel's and Jim Beam dropping sponsorships in 2010, Crown is the only whiskey sponsor left in a sport founded by moonshiners.

WORST PAINT JOB: Juan Pablo Montoya not only helped Bob Griese learn the difference between Mexico and Columbia, he shocked NASCAR by making the Chase. He also shocked retinas with this abomination on the No. 42 Dodge, run at Texas for the Hispanic Heritage Month "Dream in Color" campaign. Who says green, red, orange, black and yellow clash? Pretty much everyone with eyes.

BEST OFF-TRACK SOAP OPERA: In May, after what NASCAR alleged was a positive test for methamphetamine, driver Jeremy Mayfield was indefinitely suspended. Mayfield hired lawyers and got a judge to unsuspend him. Two weeks later, though, he allegedly failed a second drug test and was un-unsuspended. A few weeks after that, Mayfield's stepmother Lisa, who had testified she saw the driver use meth dozens of times, was herself arrested for misdemeanor assault and trespassing. She was on… Wait for it… Jeremy Mayfield’s property. You can't get that kind of gritty, real-life drama anywhere else. Besides jerry Springer.

WORST OFF-TRACK SOAP OPERA: It is possible, that, at some point in the distant future, taking into account her IndyCar schedule, her various contractual obligations and certain astrological signs, that Danica Patrick could conceivably drive a stock car in some form of NASCAR-sanctioned event. ...Oh.

BEST VICTORY CELEBRATION: Here's video of Dale Junior doing his 2009 post-victory burnout! Well, computer-generated video from EA Sports NASCAR 09, anyway. Junior didn't get a burnout in real life.

WORST VICTORY CELEBRATION: After winning in Nashville, Kyle Busch was presented with the traditional trophy; a custom-made, hand-painted Gibson Les Paul -- which he promptly destroyed, Pete Townsend-style, on live TV.

"There ought to be a law with no bail

Smash a guitar and you go to jail

With no chance for early parole

You don't get out 'til you get some soul"

THE CANNABIS COMMANDMENTS

Despite nearly a century of prohibition, millions of Americans think marijuana is a fun, relatively harmless part of daily life. Today, in fact, knowing your way around the world of weed is just one more aspect of being a sophisticated adult -- like knowing the right wine to serve with dinner. Always here to help our readers live the high life, pun intended, Playboy.com created the definitive list of marijuana morals. These are the Ten Commandments of Cannabis. The Doobie Decalogue; the ultimate creed for weed.

I. THOU SHALT SHARE THY BUD
The most basic principle of potdom. Call it good karma, a mitzvah, casting bread on the waters. Just call it "not being an asshole." Share thy stash with others, that others might share with you.

II. WHOSOEVER LOADETH, LIGHETH
Self-explanatory and maybe the oldest custom in weed world. Whoever loads the bowl, or busts out the fatty, is offered the honor of first toke.

III. THOU SHALT NOT MAKETH AN IDOL OF THY HERBS
You smoke weed. Cool. Now shut up about it. Enjoying marijuana does not mean you should stop bathing, grow dreadlocks, plaster every inch of your walls with cannabis-themed posters and name your dog Indica. It certainly does not mean you should advertise your Buddha love by covering your car with pro-pot bumper stickers. There is a time to let your freak flag fly, fellas. Driving, when you are most vulnerable to law enforcement, is not it.

IV. THOU SHALT NOT DOUBLE-DIP, NOR SHALT THOU BOGART THY NEIGHBOR'S JOINT, NOR PIPE, NOR ANY HERB THAT IS THY NEIGHBOR'S
Also self-explanatory. Hit it and quit it.

V. REMEMBER THY PARAPHERNALIA AND KEEP IT TIDY
You wouldn't drink Perrier-Jouët Cuvée Belle Epoque from a dirty coffee cup? Don't smoke hydroponic White Widow from a resin-caked bong. Oh, and don't smoke resin. Please. When you clean, you will be tempted to save those shiny black blobs, let them dry and make a poor-man's hash to use only in "emergencies." Resist this urge. Resin is the pothead's version of methadone. You don't get off, exactly. You just kill the cravings for a while. Worse, smoking resin will make you feel pathetic as you are, after all, smoking dirt. Seriously. Feel better about yourself by always throwing that stuff in the trash.

VI. THOU SHALT LIGHT FROM THE SIDE
In a room full of people, you are handed a fresh-packed, unlit bowl. The rudest thing you can do, other than arrest everyone in sight, is light from the top. The best hits from any bowl are the first, "green hits." Torching the bowl's whole surface is like being offered one hors d'œuvre and taking the whole tray. Lighting from the side, igniting as little surface as possible, you will ensure green hits for someone besides yourself.

VII. THOU SHALT FILTER THY SMOKE
Obviously, if you are trying to get high at a concert, you won't use a hookah. If you care about your health, though, use bongs or bubblers instead of pipes and joints whenever you can manage. Water, even a little, filters out loads of nasty stuff, some of which would otherwise end up in you. Consider a vaporizer, too. They cost a lot and can be a pain to use, but are infinitely easier on the lungs. Vaporizers also have the advantage of getting users deeply, ridiculously, sublimely stoned.

VIII. THOU SHALT DEAL WITH FRIENDS
Basically, don't buy drugs from people you don't like. If a dealer fills his home with guns, crystal meth, gay Nazi porn or anything else that makes you uncomfortable, get your ganja elsewhere. Just not the ghetto. Never, ever go to a ghetto to buy drugs off the street. If you can't score from a reputable dealer in a familiar neighborhood, you don't need to be smoking.

IX. THOU SHALT NOT SQUEAL
Pot is against the law, folks. If you use it, you may be arrested. If you do, the police will probably offer leniency in exchange for help busting your dealer. If you follow the Eighth Commandment, that means betraying on a friend. Assuming your bust is for simple possession and a first offense, your choice will likely come down to a year's probation and a few thousand dollars in legal fees; or ratting out a buddy. Choose the former, please, lest your soul turn black.

X. THOU SHALT NOT PINCH FROM THY ROOMMATE'S STASH
Much. You know, unless he's really being a jerk.

The other day, we happened to read the Playboy Interview with Frank Sinatra (February 1963). That's when Ol' Blue Eyes was at the peak of his powers. He could sing, obviously. He could dance. He could act well enough to win an Academy Award. He was smart and funny, yet scary. All the women wanted him and all the guys wanted to be like him. In fact, from about 1954 until Elvis Presely appeared on Ed Sullivan in 1956, Frank Sinatra was the Coolest Guy in the World.

There is always one Coolest Guy in the World. Sometimes his reign lasts for years, as with Sinatra, Elvis and Steve McQueen. Sometimes, the reign is only a few weeks, like with Michael Phelps. For a brief period s in 1977, hard as this is to believe, there was actually a moment when Woody Allen was the Coolest Guy in the World.

Who, then, is the current CGITW? After exhaustive research, which consisted mostly of sitting around and spitballing over beers, we gathered dozens of potential Coolest Guys from the worlds of sports, entertainment, politics, and anything else we could think of.

There's no good rock stars. Brandon Flowers is too fruity. Axl Rose is too crazy. Bono is too… Bono-ish. Brad Pitt used to be a CG, but he's getting weird, with that strange wife and their 47 kids. Shia LeBouf was a candidate until someone pointed out that no one named "LeBouf" can possibly be the Coolest Guy in the World.

At long last, we narrowed it down to three finalists; LeBron James, Barack Obama and Justin Timberlake.

swine flu fun

Well, it was fun while it lasted. But it doesn't look like Swine Flu is going to be the disaster so many people predicted. Humanity, probably because the Vice President warned everyone to stay off airplanes, seems likely survive the pandemic. Oh well.

So far, in fact, Swine Flu has taken a total of 20 lives around the world, with precisely one US death. Motor vehicle crashes, by comparison, kill about 40,000 people a year, 115 a day. Therefore, if you are washing your hands to avoid Swine Flu, but you don't wear a seat belt when you are driving, you are either a germaphobe, a victim of media hype or really, really bad at risk assessment.

In Mexico, as noted by the Associated Press and New York Times, there no shortage of flu-based humor. "Did you hear that Mexico has become a world power?" goes one joke. "When it sneezes, the whole world gets the flu." A (very bad) song called the "Influenza Cumbia," by the band Agrupacion Carino is climbing the charts, watch it here if you must.

The surgical masks that Mexicans have donned by the millions have become especially silly, decorated with painted-on mustaches, wrestler mask motifs and stuff like this, which you know the ladies just love:



This retouched version of the 20 peso note is reported to be one of Mexico's most passed around bits of (sorry for the awful pun) viral humor...



And, of course, the inevitable...



But the Grinder has a little Flu humor of our own.

Everyone know the A.A. Milne children's classic, Winnie-the-Pooh. But lately Pooh Bear has been seeing Piglet in a much different light...




On the subject of kids classics, they don't get much better than E.B. White's book, Charlotte's Web. But Charlotte's messages about Wilbur have gotten much less kind.



Finally, same as it ever was, Porky has the last word.

Ladies and gentlemen, please. Thrilled as we are by your support, we must ask fans to stop defacing public property --- and themselves --- just for the sake of the Grinder. Yes, it's a fine tribute when people plaster our logo all over the place, but we simply can't support vandalism, no matter how well-intentioned.

Also, we are going to have to discuss the tattoo situation, as with Ms. Jolie-Pitt here, That, missy, is a little thing called copyright infringement. We'll be expecting a check.

At first, it was no big deal. The Grinder logo
just started showing up on a few city streets.
Then it spread and spread...





Soon it was all over monuments and landmarks.
Guess who got in trouble for all this defacing of
world heritage sites? Yep. Yours truly. The
Chinese were really pissed.




This one is a travesty and crime against history and
all, but you have to admit that whoever did it has
some serious pranking skills...

Pretty soon, though, it started getting weird. It's
like some sort of time-warp was in effect. You know
those famous prehistoric cave paintings in Lascaux,
France? Well, we were just as surprised as you when
the scientists found this:

We all know Leonardo's paintings are filled with
hidden meanings, but this didn't make The DaVinci Code.
Take a closer look at the arch in the background...

And then, mercifully, just in time for Monday morning,
the acid finally wore off.

Armageddon Outta Here! The Crisis-Crisis

By Hampton Stevens

Feeling overwhelmed? Who could blame you? The economy is bad. The environment is screwed. We've got terrorists and rouge states going after nuclear weapons. Worst of all, most DVR's are painfully slow to respond to their remote control's commands, which is deeply annoying when you want to skip through commercials.

The hot debate lately at Grinder' HQ, in our fortified bunker deep under the Playboy Mansion, is whether humanity has any chance of survival. With the sky falling around us, is now the time to grab a bunch of Playmates, close the vault door and cut off contact with the outside world? To see if it's really gotten that bad, we did a little research on Google News. Turns out things are far, far worse than we thought.

There is the global financial crisis, of course, and worldwide food crisis. The North Korean missile launch sparked a crisis, even though the North Korean missile itself didn't actually launch. In Pakistan, there are two crisis; one over who will run the country, and a refugee crisis created by the Taliban war. The crisis in Kenya is getting worse, as is the crisis in the Congo. Nigeria is having a "religious crisis," which probably doesn't refer to a lot of people questioning their faith.

Moody's warns that Commerzbank faces a ratings crisis, much like "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles," which, by the way, ought to be renewed. The Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation, who build sewers in India, is accused of creating a "drainage crisis," which can't be good.

In case you thought things were okay at home, America has an energy crisis, climate crisis and credit crisis. Peter Young, columnist for the Milford Daily News, says there's a newspaper crisis. (Way to go, Pete. Top notch reporting.) The Council on Foreign Relations says America's oceans are in crisis, and Politico.com points out the "everyday crisis" of gun violence. Did we mention Mexican Drug Lords, Bumblebees and Identity Theft?

Of course, almost none of this will have the slightest effect on your daily life. Oops. Sorry. That doesn't sound very compassionate, does it? But it's true, nonetheless. Whatever happens in the battle for control of Kenya's government won't make the least bit of difference to 99.9% of anyone on the planet. Nor, for that matter, could that 99.9% have any effect on the situation should they be so inclined. The same goes for the Congo and Nigeria and whatever is happening with Commerzbank, wherever it may be.

Suppose there's a problem in the world beyond the normal, everyday catastrophes that flesh is heir to. Suppose (not that we are advocating this or anything) India and Pakistan go to war. Bad as that would be for people who live there, how much difference would it really make in your daily life? Be honest. Chances are, unless you have loved ones serving overseas, the answer is "not much." Suppose this India/Pakistan war broke out while you were on a camping trip, without a cellphone, far from the web and TV. You wouldn't even know the war started. Thousands could be dying in Kashmir while you are popping toes around a campfire.

Now, for whatever reason, just suppose you never hear about the war. Maybe you move to the wilds of Alaska for a year and, by the time you get back, people are talking about Darfur or Iran or whatever else the disaster de jour is. Here's the big question: if you've never heard about the war, didn't know anyone effected by it, and couldn't have done anything to stop it had you known, aren't you better off not knowing?

That, folks, is the crux of the crisis-crisis. Under the pretense of informing people, the ever-expanding global media creates an illusion of connectedness that becomes a self-perpetuating anxiety-making machine. Everyone has lots more information about the various disasters befalling humanity, but no one has any more control.

Which explains why we won't be grabbing some Playmates and sealing the bunker doors any time soon. (Instead we'll just be grabbing some Playmates.) Upon further review, things don't seem so bad. Or even that unusual. As The Who sang on "Another Tricky Day," this is no social crisis. This is you having fun.

April Fool Draft

What a weird day. First, you find this stunning headline on the front page of The New York Times:

Granted, you knew this was coming. But it was still shock to see the President of the United States pulling tubes in the Oval Office and asking reporters if anyone wants to check out the grow room in the White House basement. Quite naturally, you turn on the TV to find out more about the big news. That's when you get hit with this stunner on CNN:

Congress, citing budget shortfalls and the possibility of job loss, approved themselves a $93 billion-dollar congressional "bailout package" by a unanimous vote this morning. In addition to a 20% pay raise and increased benefits, some of the money will be used to build a system of private, covered walkways in Washington DC. The system, advocates say, is desperately needed for security and so that "members of Congress and their staffs don't have to look at the rabble."

After that, a guy could use a little distraction. Maybe get online and see what's happening the sports world. But not even that offers respite from the weirdness, when you see this story on ESPN.com

No one is exactly sure what happened, but through some freak of scheduling, cancellations due to weather and flight delays and general apathy, no sporting events of any kind are taking place today. Not one high school, college or pro basketball team is playing, no Spring Training baseball, no tennis, golf, track, soccer or even a spring football scrimmage. Two questions. Has anything like this ever happened before and could this story have anything to do with the one at the top of the page?

Music Box: Let me rock ya, Chaka

Chaka Khan broke out in the mid-70's with funk pioneers Rufus ("Tell Me Something Good") and went on to a successful solo career with hits like "Ain't Nobody", and "I'm Every Woman" The latter, famously covered by Whitney Houston, proving that the exact same song can be a hit in two different decades.

To celebrate the soul diva's birthday, this is "I Feel for You." Written by Prince, the song originally appeared on his 1979 self-titled album, and was Chaka's biggest hit in 1984. The opening rap, by Melle Mel, was one of the first bits of hip-hop flavor to find it's way to the suburbs -- a full two years before Run/DMC broke through with "Walk This Way."

SportsGrinder; College Basketball: Ten Things We Learned About Madness

Don't get upset, but the second best part of March Madness, the opening weekend, is over. That first four-day orgy of hoops provides a rush, and a sense of community, for American sports fans like no other event on the planet. Now we get the big payoff weekend, the one with the real pressure. Sixteen teams start Thursday afternoon. Sunday night only four emerge, glory bound. While we pause to savor this delightful moment of the sports year, let's consider what we have learned thus far in this Madness called March.

10: Bill Raftery is still insane
It's comforting, like that favorite old uncle you see every year at the holidays who, for no clear reason, loves to shout "Onions!" at the top of his lungs.

9. "Pardon me, miss. But you're riding my pumpkin."
When the tournament's designated "Cinderella team" has Final Fours and a National Championship to its name, Arizona, the definition of "Cinderella" has become grossly distorted.

8. Didn't you used to be Gator basketball?
Wondering aloud here: How can Billy Donovan win two straight NCAA titles, a stunning achievement, and then just vanish into the NIT for the next two years? It's weird. Did he decide to stop recruiting and just coast for a few seasons? Because it doesn't work like that. Anyway, you would think Donovan would get in the big tournament anyway, on some kind of past champions' exemption or something.

7. Wake Forest hates your bracket
And ours.

6. Five out of sixteen? Why even let other conferences play?
After years of rewarding you for picking against them, the Big East didn't suck it up this year. Whatev.

5. Signs and Wonders
The NCAA doesn't allow any signs at tournament games, not even a John 3:16 sign. Viewers of the Ohio State-Siena game saw a man with such a sign get it confiscated by an NCAA guard.

Oh, don't get your civil liberties in a tizzy. This isn't a free speech issue. The NCAA figures that the billions of dollars their corporate sponsors pay means those sponsors should have the only visible signage at the games. Which makes sense, really. And it isn't like losing those fans signs are a tragedy or anything. It isn't like people are dying to see what clever new way there is to use "CBS" as an acronym.

Werner, by the way, is the official ladder of NCAA Basketball. Yes, NCAA Basketball has an official ladder. Hey, the players have to climb up something when they cut down the nets. The good folks at Werner makes sure it's their products that get stepped on.

4. Blake Griffin is good.
Cole Aldridge will be a better pro, but Griffin sure is a blast to watch. Beyond the considerable talent, he cares about the game. A lot. Which is what makes this game so dang fun to watch in the first place.

3. Dick Enberg hearts Jay Bilas.
Can you blame him?

2. Jim Calhoun is more than little scary.
Connecticut won their games by 56 and 26 points. They are on a mission. Also, weirdly, two times in tournaments past, Jim Calhoun missed a game because he wasn't feeling well; 1999 and 2004. Both years, Mike Lopresti of USA Today notes, were years Huskies won it all. Is Calhoun weird enough to miss a game on purpose as some kind of psychological ploy. Probably not. Maybe not. Well, maybe so. Who knows really? It's…. possible.

1. The Truth Hurts
Deep in your heart, in a place no one else knows about, in a way you won't even admit to yourself, you miss Billy Packer. You can't believe it, but it's true. You genuinely miss having that crotchety, old bastard to kick around.

The Daily Grind: Are Bears Catholic and Do Popes S(p)it in the Woods?

Last week was a strange one. Let's break it down, shall we? The U.S. Congress, which had given lots of money to a failed insurance company, found that some of the money went to guys who screwed the company up in the first place.

How could it not?

Yet, this made the American people mad. So Congress faked outrage, even though there was language in the bailout bill that specifically approved using the money for bonuses. They made the guy who runs the company now, but had nothing to do with the bonuses, come to Capital Hill and be publicly lambasted for handing out the very bonus money Congress approved. Congress then retroactively and punitively taxed the bonus money. But not before first, wait for it, asking the recipients to give the cash back voluntarily. Tremendous. Truly. Just a stunning exhibition of bloviating ineptitude; a genuine, Grade-A clusterfuck. Oh. To put a cherry on top? The President of the United States went on a late-night talk show and made a joke about retards.And he's supposed to be the smart one.

So let's talk about the Pope instead. Pope Benedict XVI caused a brouhaha last week when he arrived on his first papal visit to Africa. Asked by a reporter about condoms, the pontiff said “If the soul is lacking, if Africans do not help one another, the scourge cannot be resolved by distributing condoms; quite the contrary, we risk worsening the problem."

Right. In other words, just as bears really do shit in the woods, the pope, shockingly, is Catholic. Why is anyone surprised by this? Look, the man isn't saying he wants people to have unprotected sex. He doesn't think anyone who isn't married should have any sex at all. (See above, re: Pope/Catholic. ) You can agree or disagree with the perspective, but it isn't exactly a stunning, new idea.

The governments of France, Germany, however, immediately denounced the pontiff. Spanish officials pledged to send one million condoms to Africa. Belgian health minister Laurette Onkelinx said Pope Benedict’s comments were a "dangerous doctrinaire vision."

The US intelligentsia concurred. "The Pope deserves no credence,” sniffed the New York Times. Writing in the Washington Post, professor Robert S. McElvaine called for the pontiff to be impeached, which is not even possible. McElvaine, who described himself as Catholic, also wrote "the idea that such a man is God's spokesperson on earth is absurd to me."

Dude. Are you sure that you're a Catholic? Because that right there is practically the definition of Protestant.

Of course, most of those who decried the pope's message probably didn't read what he said all that closely. The solution to the problem of HIV/AIDS in Africa, Benedict avowed, demands a commitment to "the humanization of sexuality. " The pontiff also called for a larger "spiritual and human renewal" that would bring about a more humane society.

The standard line seems to be the pope is foolish for saying so because "people are going to have sex anyway." Condom advocates (including whoever in Spain gets that contract for a million condoms) say that some people will always have random, unprotected sex no matter what the pope says. Which is true, but a dumb argument. It's also true that people will always drive faster than the speed limit. That doesn't mean cops shouldn't hand out speeding tickets.

Look, having sex isn't like a flood or a lightning strike. Despite what every cheating partner in human history has declared, sex doesn't ever "just happen." At some point, the parties must make a conscious choice to bump uglies. The idea that human beings, even teenagers, are somehow physically incapable of keeping themselves from going at it like rabbits demonstrates a pretty piss-poor opinion of humanity. It is also factually incorrect. Many, many teenage boys, for instance, manage to abstain from sex throughout high school using a technique known as "acne."

In Africa though, sadly, choice doesn't always play into it. One papal critic noted that a typical AIDS-infected woman in Africa is a "wife," meaning a woman sold into marriage as a teenage virgin to a much older man. He has many partners and won't wear condoms.

Whether that's actually "typical" or not is hard to say, but even assuming it's true, it's not a very good argument against the pope's message. We are talking about places where young women are basically sold as slaves to the highest bidder, and live their whole lives in servitude. How, exactly, is sending them rubbers no one will wear going to help?

Funny, it doesn't seem like the pope would consider this blog an ally on any social issue. But it sounds like a "humanization of sexuality" wouldn't be such a bad idea.

THE DAILY GRIND: Heeeere's Barry!

Barrack Obama comes as advertised. He's smart, cool and attractive. He's even hip. Or, at least, as hip as any 47-year-old man can be. Although, for such an excellent speaker, he sounds surprisingly strained when he starts dropping "G's" and affecting a "just plain folks" accent.

But the first question about the Leno appearance that needs answering, is whether it was a good idea for a sitting President of the United States to appear on late-night talk show at all. It did feel a little strange; a little too informal. But, so what? FDR did his fireside chats. That must have seemed strange at the time.

Then again, the problem with being informal is that you might make an informal remark and really piss people off. That would be the instantly infamous crack about his bowling and the Special Olympics. Truly, how foolish can one man be? Everybody knows bowling isn't an Olympic sport. Kidding.

Not to rain on the faux-outrage parade, but who gives a shit if he says he looked retarded? Kids with special needs tend to lack grace. They aren't the world's best athletes. That's not a secret or anything. Have we really grown this humorless as a nation?

Now, anyone with a shred of intellectual honesty has to admit that President Bush would have been utterly lambasted for the same joke. Slaughtered. Just imagine W. chuckling that he bowled like a retard. Fire and brimstone would have rained from the sky; i.e. the New York Times and Washington Post ediortial boards.

But what some liberals did to Bush was ugly. Wearing t-shirts that called the President of the United States a moron? What about that one that said,"Somewhere in Texas a village is missing an idiot." There's one slogan, "He's not my president" that's just plain unpatriotic. If you are an American citizen, if you believe in the Constitution, then the sitting President of the United States is always "your" president, no matter who is he is.

Here's hoping that conservatives will resist the urge to do Obama what liberals did to Bush. Yeah right. That'll happen. Who wants to bet how long it takes before the first "My President is Special" bumper stickers appear?

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Hey, um, I don't know if you want to do anything with this, but I wrote it anyway.-HS

President Obama, who you think would have better things to do, will become the first sitting president to appear on a late-night talk show when he shows up on Leno tonight. Just in case someone is watching Letterman instead, Obama will also be addressing the nation Tuesday night, bumping the most popular show on TV, Fox's "American Idol." TV execs are pissed. The presidential election meant in a fall season regularly interrupted by political coverage, followed by loads of live inauguration coverage and two primetime speeches about the economy. Now the White House wants yet another primetime slot, during sweeps, with rumors of more to come. Looks like there's no economic stimulus for Hollywood.

Jon Stewart is getting some serious backlash for beating up on Jim Cramer. Richard Cohen in the Washington Post writes that Stewart seems to have forgotten that his job is to be funny. Tucker Carlson writes on The Daily Beast that Stewart seems to believe his own press:

The relationship between Stewart and the media is a marriage of the self-loathing and the self-loving: He insists their real news is fake, they insist his fake news is real. He doesn't take them seriously at all. They take him way too seriously. But nobody takes anybody as seriously as Jon Stewart takes himself.

Gawker has clips of Bill O'Reilly reading from his terrible novel interspersed with Papa Bear lecturing on promiscuity. We're not quite sure what the point is. Writing a book with lame sex scenes doesn't make O'Reilly a hypocrite, which seems to be the implication. But the prose, and his performance of it, is laughably bad.

There is nothing laughable about Natasha Richardson's death. Even if you didn't know her work, which was excellent, her sudden passing still was a shock. Here was this healthy woman, in the prime of life, who took a not-very-bad spill on a not very steep mountain. She had what seemed to be a minor bump on the head. Then she was gone. Scary stuff.

You could argue that all the attention Richardson has gotten; and all the attention her funeral will get, and the phenomenon of "celebrity deaths" in general, are all signs of a sick society. Richardson, after all, was a rich, famous movie star, born into a renowned family, who lived her whole life in luxury and traveled in the world's most exclusive circles. Roughly, about 146,000 human beings die every day. 146,000. That's about 100 people each minute. Why does this one woman deserve so much attention. You could make the case that our compassion would be better spent elsewhere, like, say, on kids suffering in Darfur.

You could make that case. But you would be an idiot. People don't "spend" compassion. Human beings do not have a limited supply of empathy which they run out of unless it's carefully rationed. On the contrary. Most people find that compassion breeds compassion. That is, feeling empathetic towards other human beings is a habit that grows with practice.

What makes Richardson's death so sad is, precisely, because she had so much. Let's face it; the people in Darfur are having very shitty lives. They are having lives shitty in ways we in the West can scarcely imagine. Richardson, though, was not. She was talented, attractive and accomplished, with a seemingly perfect family and, arguably, the world's best job. She had everything most people aspire to. That's exactly what makes it so shocking to see it all vanish in such a strange, quick, tawdry little way.