In a lot of ways, this is sort of like dying.
Here I am, writing my final Chutzpah column, which, although I knew it was coming, I never really expected it to actually happen. I thought last columns only befell other people.
Also like a requiem, I don’t know where I’m going next. I have an idea or a theory, but in three months I could very easily be working on the Martian Daily Gazette (which, apparently, would not surprise a few of my “fans”). I’ll almost have to be working outside the Earth’s gravitational pull, given the economy.
Unlike death, though, I know I’ll get to keep my ideas. Unless, of course, the East Tennessean decides to pull their intellectual property lawyers on me.
It would be too bad if they did become litigious, because I plan on binding all my columns into a book. I’ve always dreamed of capturing the No. 1 spot on the Podunk Times’ Worst Seller List, and now, here’s my chance.
Surely, the market for the 16 Americans readers who are left, with so many self-help titles and as-told-to biographies crowding the shelves, will have no place for the following gems of incoherent wisdom. …
The Hollywood Hills are the heights of foolishness. …
I’m tired of all this patriotism and flag-waving at football games. This country already has an unpaid public relations machine: MSNBC. Leave it to their well-paid, easily manipulated talking heads to spout the propaganda. The only thing worse than having to endure close-ups of Oklahomans wearing T-shirts emblazoned with “Kill ’em all” in red, white and blue letters are these ex-jocks who think they have something poignant to say right after the millionaire celebrity sings the national anthem. Just play ball, will ya, fellas? …
I have a friend who says he’s certain that the Apocalypse will fall on a Saturday. The same guy also said that Armageddon would then come sometime during the following February. He’s not quite sure about the end of the world, however. …
Whoever first thought up the phrase “up and coming” had a really sick mind. …
We have the words “summertime,” “wintertime” and “springtime.” Yet there is no “falltime” or “autumntime.” I think someone must have sneaked in during the night and stolen these two words. I hope we have language insurance. …
There ought to be more slanted buildings. That way, those interior decorating shows would be slightly more interesting. …
If you discovered how to flap your wings and fly, but you did it in the cabin of an airplane, you wouldn’t get any recognition. You would get off and tell your friends that you flew on the airplane, and they would ignore you, just as they always do. …
If someone goes brain dead, does his Rubick’s cube become a personal effect? And if this same guy was widely known as an “idea person,” would you just have to pull the plug right then and there? …
Beware any man whose wife lovingly refers to him as “boober.” …
Have you ever met someone who was either exotically beautiful or really gross, and you couldn’t figure out which? …
Just for fun this holiday season, put a little fairy dust in each of your Christmas cards. In fact, make it white dust, so it’ll look just like snow. How festive! …
When I die, I hope I spontaneously combust, with a giant explosion that results in a lingering blaze that burns for days. It attracts notoriety, saves money on funeral announcements and eliminates any debate over whether I should be buried or cremated.

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