The U.S. Census Bureau reports there are some 316 million Americans, which translates to about 632 million human hands.
Sadly, even those aren't enough hands to properly salute all the nominees for April's Moutza of the Month.
The Washington press corps? Oh, yeah.
They put on tuxedos and attend the White House Correspondents' Dinner and clap and laugh at jokes delivered by the president.
I've been there and loathed it in years past. The party of the president doesn't matter, because it's power they adore. There's always another president. But they remain, an unctuous society of elites kissing posteriors, while Americans stand on the outside and watch.
But at least you have two naked palms.
So study the how-to-Moutza lesson in my Tribune video online (chicagotribune.com/moutza), and prepare to give the old ancient Hellenic "Nah!"
Chase it with a pithy "Eat these!" or "Blow on this" and consider the April Moutza.
Anthony Weiner, the former congressman who lost his job by sexting photos of his "special purpose," now wants back into politics. Why not? He's qualified.
New York is the same city where hipster millennial moms let their infants and toddlers "go Mowgli" on the streets and parks, without diapers, in the hopes of quickly toilet-training their little beasts.
Hey, Weiner. Hey, "go Mowgli" moms.
And what of the Florida woman who asked police to get her a refund from her drug dealer? Or that Kansas man who visited with a hooker for two hours but couldn't pay, then feared reprisal and called cops for protection?
We could give the award every week to establishment Republican Sens. John McCain and Lindsey Graham, who always seem to be trying to get us into more wars.
And then there's Justin Bieber.
The bubble gum pop crooner visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam last month, and wrote in the guest book that Anne was a "great girl. Hopefully, she would've been a belieber."
Anne Frank even contemplating Justin Bieber as the Nazis were sending her and other Jews to concentration camps?
Justin? A double Moutza! Nah, and Nah!
Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel got into the Moutza business himself in April, giving a few to former Mayor Richard M. Daley.
At a news conference, Emanuel trashed Daley's ridiculous billion-dollar parking meter deal with a private company.
The cash reportedly goes to Abu Dhabi. Daley stepped down to work for the law firm that put it all together. And still some in Chicago want to give Daley hugs.
Unless, of course, you park a car in Chicago, or you're Mayor Rahmfather.
"The company knows now that I'm a different type of mayor, this is a different administration and that Chicago has a different way of doing business these days," Rahmfather said.
"The city should never have done this deal," Rahmfather said. "Period."
He said the old deal was a bunch of lemons and he had to make lemonade, and Nah! and Nah! again.
Though he's a tough guy, Rahmfather can't seem to ever mention Daley's name.
Rahmfather? Why are you afraid?
Other worthy contenders include national champion Louisville basketball coach Rick Pitino, who just had the Louisville "L" tattooed to his back.
A 60-year-old man with a back tattoo?
Rick, you think Pat Riley and Doc Rivers get back tattoos?
Pitino should have put one on his lower spine, like those College Girls Gone Wild.
Your players would like it, and it would be really cool, Rick.
And what of Boston Marathon bomber mommy, Zubeidat Tsarnaeva?
"It's all lies and hypocrisy," she told The Associated Press in Dagestan after one son was killed and the other arrested in connection with the bombings that killed three and injured many others. "I'm sick and tired of all this nonsense that they make up about me and my children."
You know what we're sick and tired of?
Immigrants who go on the government dole, receive a reported $100,000 in benefits, then raise alleged terrorists and allegedly steal $1,600 in women's apparel from Lord & Taylor.
Shoplifting dresses doesn't sound all that "holy war" to me, Mommy Tsarnaeva.
Take 10: Nah!
Another Moutza goes to CNN for declaring, breathlessly during the crisis, that a bombing suspect had been arrested (though no one had been caught by then) and that the suspect was "a dark-skinned male."
A dark-skinned male?
No, the suspects weren't libertarians or other anti-tax conservatives. And no, there were no arrests of CNN's "dark-skinned male"
The Tsarnaev brothers trace their roots to Chechnya, in the Caucasus. So they're the original white boys.
But nothing matches Washington-based journalists sucking up to power and getting jiggy with celebrities at the correspondents' dinner.
It's even worse at the Gridiron Dinner, where reporters perform musical skits for the amusement of the president.
How about a new dress code for next year?
Rather than wear tuxedos, Washington journalists should wear cute velvet suits with golden thread and epaulets, and tiny bellhop caps just like the ones organ grinders used for their cute little monkeys.
"Oh, Giuseppe, he's such a happy little monkey," an organ grinder might say, as the monkey banged his cymbals and doffed his hat for coins.
And reporters who play the chattering monkey for the president at the White House Correspondents' Dinner?
You get April's Moutza of the Month.