HERE WE ARE, only two months into the new year, and already I'm sick to death of 1999.
I'm sick of Monica Lewinsky's new book, and it's not even out yet.
Right, Dave. I'm sure SAT scores will shoot up all over the country.
And I'm sure they're making plans over at Johns Hopkins University to tape the whole thing and play it for their graduate programs.
Fortunately, Barbara managed to tart things up by noting the interview would be a "history of that relationship from Day 1 of that famous thong."
Way to add a touch of class, Babs.
I'm sick of weirdos in general, and Dennis Rodman in particular. Did you see that freak show of a news conference he held in L.A. the other day?
He showed up with 97 pieces of jewelry dangling from his face and some kind of Carnac the Magnificent turban, accompanied by his nutjob wife, Carmen Electra, and his sister.
Then -- because, let's face it, this is the kind of thing you want to share while your sister stands next to you -- he informed the media: "Carmen really pleased me last night, if you know what I mean."
Oh, we know what you mean, you smooth-talking devil.
Hey, Denny, why don't you two lovebirds go jump in the ocean and see how far out you can swim?
For starters, shoot for the Philippines.
I'm sick of Jesse "The Body" Ventura and he's only been governor of Minnesota for what, a month?
The guv was in Washington the other day. And, according to a story by The Sun's Ellen Gamerman, he said if he runs for governor again, he'd like to finance the campaign by selling Jesse Ventura merchandise, such as T-shirts that say: "My governor can beat up your governor.'
Ohhhh-kay, governor. T-shirts, eh?
You know the best thing Governor Ventura could do for the citizens of Minnesota?
The best thing he could do would be to summon a few people who actually know how to run a state and say: "OK, you guys are in charge for the next four years. I'll be up in my room watching bass-fishing videos."
I'm sick of all these confusing health bulletins that are supposed to make us jump up and down with joy.
Now eating tomatoes is supposed to lower your risk of cancer. And not just raw tomatoes, gushed the health reporter on TV, anything to do with tomatoes, even tomato sauce on pizza!
Uh, if I could address the crack scientists who authored this study: What about the artery-clogging cheese and pepperoni and sausage on pizzas?
Is that supposed to be good for you, too?
You ask me, dying of a massive coronary or dying of cancer is pretty much a toss-up.
I'm sick of all these network newsmagazine shows. What are there, about 190 of these now? "20/20" is on about five times a week, isn't it?
Or am I thinking of "Dateline NBC"?
Or "60 Minutes II"?
Are there really that many compelling stories out there?
Look, you see one wacko who stalks and murders his wife before feeding her body into a wood chipper, you've pretty much seen 'em all.
I'm sick of idiot anchor people on the 11 o'clock news chirping to the weather guy: "Hope you're bringing us some sunshine this weekend, Rich!"
Hey, anchor people. I don't know how to break this to you, but Rich is not God, OK?
Rich has no control over the weather. None. Honest. He's just a guy with nice hair and a Pierre Cardin blazer staring at a Doppler radar map and reading the five-day forecast.
(P.S.: There's only one mortal on the planet who controls the weather and that's me. To bring rain, all I have to do is schedule a big backyard party.)
I'm sick of all these mopes smoking for 30 and 40 years and then suing the tobacco companies for damages when they get sick.
Hey, dimwit, did you actually thinking smoking was healthy for you all that time? What did you think you were sucking into your lungs: granola?
That's tar you're inhaling, baby. The stuff they pave roads with! Does that sound like a good idea to you?
When's the last time you had a physical and your doctor said: "I don't think you're getting enough tar. Here's a prescription for a pack of Winstons."
Pub Date: 2/25/99