How Many of Me Could Dance on the Head of a Pin?

Do you know how hard it is to be an Internet writer when you live in an Old Bewildered Folks' Home? Well, I have it just as tough as you do. And here's what's tough:

You have various folks or various scenarios that populate your pieces. So when you write about them you just assume everybody knows what you're talking about because all your readers were here yesterday, right? Well, they weren't. So when I get involved with Feelgood Haines, I always remind you who he is ("the history buff who knows every history ever histed"). And when I tell you my plans to not die, or to only semi-die, I always explain that I need a lot of money to pay for my plan to be reincarnated. This is called "Making My Pile."

And when I mention Chinese people on my site, I am always sure to tell you that they hack me off because they steal all my good ideas for books and inventions, which has many times prevented me from Having My Pile Already Piled.

In other words, your buddy Ol' Hoss is not cryptic. You could come in 30 days ago, or 30 minutes ago, and you would know everything you need to know. For instance, if I happened to mention I had to go to WalMart to get some candles so the people here could self-immolate, you would know all the history associated with this event.

Well, all this is background to telling you my latest invention, which I hope to sell to somebody before the Chinese steal it. I am fairly well committed to the plan to Make My Pile While the Making Is Good, so here it is:

Meet the Toe Stub Prevention and Automatic Weight Loss Machine. It's easy to picture, ain't it? It's a slab of iron you strap to your feet. This iron thing extends about an inch beyond your big toe so when you get up during the night to go pee you won't stub your toes on that chair the missus moved after you went to bed.

And look at all the exercise you're going to get, clomping around the house with 5 pounds of iron strapped to each foot. That flab/cellulite/fat will come off in great globs. Your inner skinny self will magically reappear. You will be only too willing to give me testimonials. Which I won't care about because I will have sold out to Weight Watchers for enough money to reincarnate as a rhinoceros.

I guess this is new, my plan to come back as a rhino. Well, despite all I've said, I've got a soft spot in my heart for the Chinese, and they are strongly dependent upon rhino horn as an aphrodisiac. Powdered rhino horn is called Chinese Viagra, only it's called that in some funny squiggly characters that nobody can make out unless you can read Beijing grafitti.

If somebody shoots me to get my horn it won't matter because I can always come back as something equally fine, if Weight Watchers pays enough. I am smooth like that.

Now then, the only question is whether to come back as a black rhino, or a white rhino. Because I enjoy being popular, which of these would people put the least hate on?

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My favorite word today is tears. N., heart-broken. Def.: What to expect when the previously uninterested child suddenly develops a yen for the huckleberry pie of which there is no more.