THE GREAT WHITE BEAR

bouts of depression. But the sight of Dubya and his minions dancing while our children die, the reports I am seeing about US troops leveling houses and removing topsoil In Fallujah to destroy the evidence of napalm use, and the lack of F***ING RED WINGS HOCKEY is all too much. I am retreating to my office with a large pizza from Barnaby's, two six packs of Woodchuck Hard Cider (one amber, one granny smith), a quart of B & J's Cherry Garcia, and a handful of Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns.

I realize such behavior verges on suicidal. But could there be a better way to go than consuming cider with my good friends Ben and Jerry while watching FIST FULL OF DOLLARS? I don't think so!