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A new study this week has prompted a prominent figure in the scientific community to once again emerge and raise the question of global warming with the world. The study, conducted by your own Finnius Fapperton, has shown that the weather is, indeed, totally effed up. The method performed in the study consisted largely of walking outside.

Seriously, does it take a team of rocket meteorologists to figure this out? The past week has had more highs and lows than a heroine addict. It’s like the climate jumped onto a gargantuan trampoline and is taking us all for a ride. Problem is, we’ve got a bunch of punk-assed kids telling us that nothing is wrong!

Screw you, kids! Here we are, trying to ruin your future with all of the SUVs money can buy, and you go and support that? You won’t even remember what polar bears are, you ingrates! You know, what? Forget the environment. We all hope you burn.

Many holidays have sentimental attachment for millions and millions of people across the world. Valentine’s Day is not one of these days, as it leaves a nation divided. In the United States, every year men are goaded into buying over $12 billion on useless trinkets, stuffed toys, glimmering doo-dads, and oh yeah, chocolate. The truth is, no man likes Valentine’s Day, and that’s right, I’m including the more feminine of our gender.

Hello, Gossip-bots. I’d like to have returned under better circumstances, but sometimes tragedy is the only thing that can break the spell white sand beaches and a Mai Tai have over me.

Anna Nicole Smith, the tabloid mainstay, passed away yesterday of undetermined causes. She was to gossip columns what groupies are to rock stars. She was always prepared to give us more of herself than we were really comfortable with, and afterwards we’d tell her to get the hell away because we had to take a phone call from our wife and kids.

Next week the Indianapolis Colts will face off against the Chicago Bears in Super Bowl XLI, and I couldn’t be more disappointed.

It’s not the match up that’s disappointing but what’s going to transpire during the television timeouts. You know what I’m talking about: Super Bowl commercials. The same mind-numbing, soul-destroying garbage flashing on our screens but with new packaging. It’s the same numb feeling you get watching Dane Cook gesticulating his way into a caricature of himself.

With all of these reports of global warming, you’d think people would stop complaining about how cold it is, but alas, winter has finally arrived for a large portion of the United States, and a bulk of the Midwest is hurting badly. As though in some sort of slight directed at the President himself, Mother Nature in all of her wonder even smacked around Texas last week.

A new exhibition in Oslo is stirring controversy for its portrayal of various animals being homosexual. As odd as this sounds, apparently there are a lot of animals that are gay. It is behavior found in mammals and birds worldwide, and the question is: is this normal? Coming from a scientific standpoint, no. Normal means that a majority of animals would have to be “batting for the Yankees,” when in fact, the true percentages hover somewhere around 10%, which is just a little more than human percentages. And frankly, when it comes to humans, you are a little prone to lying, so we’ll assume 10% is relatively universal.

I’ll be honest. The last few days have worn me out. What with the death of James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, and the death of Gerald Ford, the under-elected wonder, my killing finger is, well, killing me. I know what you’re thinking, “What’s a Death Monkey doing killing humans?” Well, whenever Death comes down with a cold, or a mean case of Skeletal Gonorrhea, guess who has to step in? That’s right, the Death species that’s 99.9% identical. If I’m sick, they call in Death Dog, and trust me, you don’t want that, he just sniffs your crotch to death.

Welcome, my lovely little gossip-bots! I’m back and writing as I cruise down the French Riviera, drinking with impossibly beautiful men and women. Living an actual life makes me almost completely forget about celebrities and their useless problems, but I could never leave my readers out in the cold like that.

On to the celebrities!

Doing her best celebrity impersonation of a marginally talented starlet trading in on her good looks, Miss USA Tara Conner will be checking into rehab. Her under-aged drinking, positive drug test, and public displays of affection with Miss Teen USA have her on course to compete with even the most seasoned celebrity bitchlets. Instead of stripping her title, Donald Trump, whose organization owns the Miss Universe pageant, decided to give the beauty queen a second chance. I’m all about second chances. It just means more opportunities for me to write about your sad, sad future, Tara. So go ahead and whore it up!

If you’re like me, Thanksgiving makes you think of a lot of things (turkeys, Pilgrims, Indians, small pox), and while it was a week ago, I felt I needed distance on it to give an accurate account of what it means.

Thanksgiving is traditionally celebrated as a day to give thanks and for the Pilgrims, these thanks went to Squanto. He was their translator, their tour guide, and their hunting instructor. Without Squanto, the Pilgrims likely would have died quickly in the New World, starved into extinction and frozen to their overly-stylish pantaloons.

Hello, gossip-bots! I’m back once again, to show you how you’re actually much better than the people you idolize. If you still don’t believe me after this column, down a few drinks. It always works for me.

Now on to the celebrities!

Michael Richards, the actor who played Kramer on “Seinfeld”, is in the news and relevant for the first time in years. Unfortunately, it isn’t because he’s done anything funny, which, had he actually done something funny, would’ve also been for the first time in years. While performing in a Los Angeles comedy club, Richards was being heckled and unleashed his bitter, washed-up rage on the heckler, a black man.

Hello, my gossip-bots! It’s been a while. Did you miss me? I almost missed you, after my fifth wine cooler. Enough about you, let’s talk about some celebrities.

Kirstie Alley, refusing to be fat and go away, appeared on Oprah yesterday in a bikini. Alley, once tipping the scales and compact cars at 219 pounds, has lost 75 pounds. The former “Cheers” cast member starred most recently in her reality show “Fat Actress”, where she played the only role she’s played for several years; a fat actress.

I’m really proud of you, Kirstie. Now that you’ve shed all of that weight at the ripe age of 55, you can finally start a new phase of your career; being an old actress. But don’t gain it back, dear. Kathy Bates dominates the competition for old, fat actresses. You don’t want to tangle with her. I hear she’s a vicious bitch (and a biter).

So, I have to apologize to the Saint Louis Cardinals’ fans. They actually won.

The method I used to predict the Series wasn’t exactly scientific. A theoretical fistfight between the mascots of two teams can be used to determine a lot of things; the winner of the World Series is not one of them. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll restrict my mascot Ultimate Fight fantasies to determining Divisional Series.

I hate to come out of my first column for Slantmouth a loser. I feel I have to redeem myself. The first column ended like Rocky I. A large black guy didn’t pummel me, but I still feel like I’m peeling myself off the mat.

Greetings! Holiday Monkey here, coming to you from beyond the grave! As you may or may not know, today is Halloween. The most wicked of days is upon us! A day when goblins, ghouls, ghosts, and ghastly teens take to the streets seeking blood, carnage, vengeance toward ex-lovers, and of course, getting Mrs. Peterson’s trees super toilet-papery.

Hello, my lovely little gossip-bots! It’s time to recap this week’s celebrity news.

Courtney Love has reportedly turned to Buddhism to make amends for her past. Now, whenever she has a problem she turns to her faith. Sweetheart, if the drugs weren’t helping, Buddhism doesn’t stand a chance.

Love’s filthy grunge husband, Kurt Cobain, topped Forbes magazine’s list of highest earning dead celebrities, beating out Elvis for the top spot. Elvis, another drug abusing rock icon, had been the reigning king for the last four years. Thank God a fatty who died with his pants around his ankles doesn’t top the Forbes list anymore. It was getting a little embarrassing, like how being married to Michael Jackson then Nicholas Cage is a little embarrassing. I’m looking at you Lisa Marie.

Tonight’s the first game of the 2006 World Series, where the Saint Louis Cardinals will face off against the Detroit Tigers.

Before I start the preview for this series let me just say a few things; I know a lot of people don’t really care for baseball. The main complaint is that it’s boring. The people who say that are crazy and possibly brain damaged. Don’t listen to them. What could possibly be wrong with a sport that allows you to sit on your ass and drink for three straight hours? Let me tell you: nothing! You should immediately start punching anyone who says different in the face. Facial bruising will help them remember. It’s one of the laws of the jungle.

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