Television news is amazing. How is it that so many channels fill their day with half-information that is simultaneously vague, terrifying, or very both is impressive. I saw a story on MSNBC (maybe CNN?) recently about a fertility clinic from the '80s that tried to create brilliant offspring by having genius donors. (No relation to the band Offspring, who I assume simply like the word.) This clinic wanted Nobel Prize winners to donate their fruit (I think they got three winners—which beats me by two—that is if in fact I do one day win the Nobel Prize for Awesomeness, a category I intend to eventually pitch) but ended up with just a lot of affluent doctors and businessmen, I believe. The story was mostly about a 21-year-old girl, who was conceived through this clinic, and was now a world-class opera singer. The story touched lightly upon issues involving genetically engineering "smarter" people, but was mostly a vague feel-good piece about a girl opera singer and a doctor that wanted to breed geniuses.

The best part? When the piece was done it came back to the anchor desk. Two attractive middle-aged anchor ladies (one was Asian, relax) waited to chime in with a witty comment before going on to sort of talk about the war or maybe government. That's when one of the women said, "Some people compare this doctor's methods to the Nazis." And then they went on. Wait. What?

"Some people compare this doctor's methods to the Nazis."

You don't want to explore that further? You're done? It felt like the story went, "This girl has a pretty singing voice. A doctor made her. Or her likeable, wealthy parents. These are some of the things robots would wonder about genetic manipulation. Also, Nazis. Bye!"

People love comparing things to Nazis. It's a reference point that everyone (except Nazis) agrees is awful. Some people compare Bush to Nazis. Anyway, I guess comparing something to Nazis and not elaborating is a weird way to end a story (but can have an amusing effect if done in the middle of a blog—META ALERT!!!!)

On an unrelated, but still news-based event, I saw Al Roker (possibly high on Dust, definitely acting super weird) on the Tony Danza Show (please watch it.) Al was furious at print media's criticism about him falling down on a barefoot man propping him up on a hotel balcony during a hurricane. He railed against print media (who referred to his balcony escapade as grandstanding.) He jabbed his turkey carving fork into the stomach of print media (which wounded it terribly, but gave it enough time to get the hospital.) How? He pointed out that Television News beats Print News to the Story. (He kept repeating it. Like five, ten times.) And he's right. If the story is about wind. Then television is a much better way to accurately show wind stories. Some may disagree with Al, but those people 1) don't have the guts to climb down a building on Halloween dressed as Batman and Robin, something Al and someone else famous did on the Today Show and 2) probably work in print news—or what TV anchors simply call "SloFo"—short for Slow Information. (I made up a pretty good term. Let's get that shit into mainstream media.)

HOLY SHIT! Because I changed my cable provider I now have Fox News. I never had it before. (I'd seen it a handful of times.) It's probably the only truly bad-ass news station. My favorite thing, and something they air all the time, is a commercial for The O'Reilly Factor. In it, Bill O'Reilly is yelling at some bewildered guy, "I know you! That's not what you think!" (Bill O'Reilly would definitely be my favorite person to be secretly gay.) The commercial gives the impression that O'Reilly doesn't know the person, and couldn't accurately convey this person's side of whatever the story is. Still, he does get Reillyed up. And it is adorable.

(On a side note, here are some nicknames for Gay Bill O'Reilly—Gay 'Reilly, Kissy Yells, The Factor, and Cuddles O'Yelly.)

To end all this, last winter I caught a bunch of ads on ABC news about something (in a very menacing tone) "hidden in the snow that could hurt your dog!" The ad was so scary and so funny. I missed the actual story, though. But I then called ABC news to find out what was HIDDEN IN THE SNOW THAT COULD HURT/KILL MY DOG. I investigated the investigators! Here's the phone call. The man I talk to is so incredibly annoyed (which I feel slightly bad about) at having to find the information for me. I guess that's the trade off for having extremely stupid news. As Spiderman said, "With great lack of responsibility comes annoyance."

P.S. I think comparing Bush to Nazis is very inaccurate. However, comparing his policies to a semi-successful '80s band that had a few hits and then ended certain social programs makes sense. Maybe Karate Kid Three (fuck! That's a movie, sorry.) How about Jefferson Starship? No. Maybe Skid Row? Sebastian Bach did wear an offensive t-shirt on MTV and threw a bottle at someone in an audience. That's sort of similar to Bush.

I'll leave you with some Skid Row lyrics (from darklyrics.com) and let you decide:

18 and Life

Tequila in his heartbeat, His veins burned gasoline./It kept his motor running but it never kept him clean./They say he loved adventure, "Ricky's the wild one."/He married trouble and had a courtship with a gun./Bang Bang Shoot 'em up, The party never ends./You can't think of dying when the bottle's your best friend/And now it's

18 and Life, you got it/18 and Life, you know/Your crime is time, and it's/18 and life to go

Youth Gone Wild

Since I was born they couldn't hold me down/Another misfit kid, another burned-out town

Never played by the rules I never really cared/My nasty reputation takes me everywhere

I look and see it's not only me/So many others have stood where I stand/We are the young so raise your hands

They call us problem child/We spend our lives on trial/We walk an endless mile/We are the youth gone wild

I have been trying to switch from Dish Network to Time Warner Cable for a while. I can get digital phone and so many other great things (the package that has over 160 channel also comes with a wife that really listens.) The Time Warner people have come three times. The first two times they said they needed to get to my downstairs neighbor's garden and also my neighbor in the building next door to install cable. No matter how much I wanted 12 channels of aggressive, uninformed news beamed straight into my house, I was not going to be able to convince two neighbors to stay home from work— unless I offered to make my special casserole! (A great plot for a sitcom, especially if I accidentally use hallucinogenic 'shrooms — but, in real life, totally ineffective.)

So I had essentially given up. Sure, I booked an appointment for Saturday. Maybe my neighbors would be home? 4:30 p.m. The Cable Man arrived. Unlike the other two, he had a giant drill and all his cable installation things with him. I start explaining to him that the other two cable people said you need to go to my neighbors . . . He's not listening. He's just looking around. He points to the window by my kitchen.

"Can you move that stuff?"

"Yes."

"I'll just jump to the roof."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm going to jump to that roof. I can install it if I get to that pole."

"Okay."

It wasn't insanely dangerous, but if he fell, he'd fall one story. And it was cable. It wasn't that important. Except to him. This cable man would not be stopped. He did it. He jumped to the roof and now I have cable television, a cable modem, and soon, digital phone. Thanks super-tough-ass-kicking-cable-man. Below are some photos to give you an idea of the perils involved.

Also, here is the phone call of me canceling Dish Network. I'm sure many cable companies charge fees for weird crap, but I always found it annoying whenever I would cancel some programming Dish would charge me for it. They'd call me with some promotion and I'd get Showtime for a few months, decide I didn't want it, and they'd charge me $5 to get rid of it. I always felt that they just wanted in a sort of passive aggressive way to squeeze money out of you. Anyway, I think this phone call demonstrates that they do in fact want to do that.

Listen to the phone call.

My mom recently told me a story about our first Halloween in America. It turns out we didn't know about Halloween (though in Russia there is a similar holiday, except instead of costumes and candy, people hide in their apartments, afraid to make a noise.) Still, we didn't know that you had to be home and went somewhere. When we got back, someone had written "fuck" on our house with shaving cream or something. We were confused, until a neighbor explained it—in America there is a holiday where children dress as monsters and go door to door to get candy. If you're not there, they destroy something of yours. Oh! Of course! It's like a child version of The Secret Police, but instead of searching for people who question the actions of the State, they want candy. No prob. We'll be around next year.

This year, I had a fun Halloween. I often don't have a costume (I'm not counting the mask I wear to hide my feelings.) It seemed like this Halloween there were less girls dressed like magical hookers. So that's good. (A recent statistic I wrote says that boys will try to have sex with girls 97 percent as much regardless of whether they wear a pretty blouse or dress as a witch in thongs who got surprised by a fire alarm. And the three perecent that won't would make terrible dad's, even for an hour.)

Last year I dressed as a mish-mash of super hero-esque things (I had a utility-belt filled with airplane size liquor bottles I'd hand out) and a mask I bought in Chinatown with strawberries or something on it. I also wore a speaker attached to my iPod and played sweet music plus recordings of me (in a pitched, deep voice) saying, "Don't ask me what I'm dressed as," or "Hey, Mr. Downtown, I think you overdosed on cool pills." If I had to give this hero a name I would call him Captain Fun, or more accurately, Dr. Captain Weird and Confusing.

This year I was made a beautiful Robin (like Batman and Robin) outfit by someone (who was very cute, so if you know her, please have her e-mail me, unless she's married, then just a fax, and maybe we'll go on an awkward date; example—we go to fill out the paperwork to adopt a highway.) The Robin outfit was for a bit (Treat! You just learned a comedy term! You can throw out the word "skit") for an 826-NYC benefit—a non-profit org (that's short for "organization," though now longer, sorry) that tutors kids in writing and also sells superhero gear. (If you'd like to help a child write a novel or memoir visit 826nyc.org.)

After the benefit I got to keep my beautiful, hand made costume. I wore it to several parties, and at each party, people asked me different things. "Where's Batman?" I got a lot. (I now know not go as one half of a team; a lesson anyone who dressed up as Rumsfeld or Charlie Watts could tell you, too.) My favorite thing someone said to me was on my way to Bowery Bar, two guys, somewhat drunk and tough, yelled, "Nobody cares about Robin."

"Nobody cares about Robin."

Really? Who do they care about? Batman? Yes. People are heartbroken over the death of his imaginary parents in a made-up city. Or Superman. He is the only survivor from his planet. He's alone. And when you wear a superman costume people get that depth of pain.

I guess what I'm really saying is, the next time you see someone in a Robin outfit, just yell, "Fag" or "You suck!" Don't go into the pseudo-psychology of it. It'll be flawed.

Above is a picture of me and Leo Allen (who was Captain Guess Your Weight) at the 826-nyc benefit, with somewhat surprised onlookers. I was his crappy side kick (Robyn with a y.)

I'd like to end this by recounting a Halloween story that William Shatner once told on Conan. It's the reason he may be a brilliant man. For Halloween one year, William Shatner went out in two William Shatner masks. He would get to a house, take off a mask, and underneath, would be another William Shanter mask. Then he would take the second mask off, to reveal the real William Shatner. I have always loved that story. Thank you, Mr. Shatner.

I am somewhat obsessed with The Tony Danza Show. The show is amazing. Mr. Danza is a truly unique soul. Recently, after mentioning a charity he was involved in, for either soldiers, children, or both, and right before launching into Extrava-Danza (his daily quiz game), Tony tossed off a throwaway line. He does it all the time. With his trademarked charm (I know you can't trademark charm, but Tony's laws are based on his own Danza-tution), he went—"We really gotta get that Osama guy."

"We really gotta get that Osama guy."

Tony's right. We do. For those not in the know (if you haven't heard of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah or The Hold Steady—that's you), this "Osama guy" that Tony Danza is talking about is Osama bin Laden. Who is he? He's only America's numero uno enemy-o! What'd he do? Is he a bullshit artist? Yes! But it's way bigger than that! He's not at the tippy-top of America's shit list for just trash-talking. I won't go into it, but let me just give you an idea of how bad this guy is—if you google "Osama country music"—you will find a lot of songs and flash games that take this motherfucker on. You will find a parody of Rick Nelson's Garden Patry called Osama Party. (Sample lyrics: I went to Osma's party to find out about his friends/ A chance to show the world who we are up against. Chorus: But it's all right now/ We learned our lesson well/ You see, we can't let Sadaam go unless he kills himself.) U.S. intelligence couldn't make a connection between Osama and Sadaam, but parody songwriter Rudy Ramirez had no problem. The trick—poetic license. It would be much simpler for investigators if they replaced investigation with poetic license to solve crimes.)

Still, thanks to the relentlessness of celebrities like Tony Danza to "get that Osama guy," it keeps a fire underneath President Bush (the first openly gay president in over 25 years—25 dog years—so only about 3 1/2 human—which means W. is the first openly gay president since himself! I just double-called the President gay—once directly and once using roundabout logic!)

I kid. The truth is, and some of you already know this, President Bush actually opposes same-sex marriage (he thinks homosexuality is a sin, like stealing or a neighbor/wife coveting party with a bowl of keys and a two boxes of wine.) Others (like John Kerry and Ayman al- Zawahiri, Osama's right hand man, ironically) don't oppose the idea of same-sex unions, but would hate to change the meaning of the word "marriage" to include them. John and Ayman should be worried. Words change all the time, and not always for the best. Remember what happened to the word "gay?" Everybody lost when a few decades ago some rogue tweens took it upon themselves to twist "gay" into a slur that could be applied to anything from Bon Jovi to the color of a wall. I'd hate to see the word marriage have the same fate as the word gay. Do we really want kids running around schools going, "You're so marriage!" or worse, a parade of religious zealots, marching on Washington with signs that read, "God hates marriages!"

It's always sad to see a word's meaning change—a little or a lot. Could you imagine a world where "nurse" meant "college." I can't. Wait, I just did. But it's very confusing. I don't recommend it. Watch—"Where did you go to nurse?" "Western Mass." See, confusing. Please, America, don't slightly change a word's meaning. It will destroy what that word meant before. And what's more important than that? Only one thing—getting that Osama guy.

And in keeping with the multimedia spirit, here is a phone call from the anti-gay phone company that periodically calls me to switch. This call is from the first time they contacted me.