Being in a band is the greatest, especially if you’re into smoke machines. You’ve got to be careful about who you put in your band, though, because if you get the wrong combination of rockers, you could be in for a lifetime of pain. I made a little guide to help you out when you’re choosing band members.

Guitarists
These guys are the toughest to pick. If you’re a guitar player yourself, consider yourself lucky that you don’t need to find one because these dudes have the biggest egos. They’re the ones who want to be front and center all the time. They’re the first ones buying the leather pants and they’re the ones spitting whiskey fireballs at everyone after shows. When you’re finding a guitarist, look for one that says stuff like “Maybe the drummer should be the singer,” or “Sometimes I like to play with my back to the audience because I don’t really like attention.” Trust me, he’s going to work out a lot better than picking the guy that says he wants to dress up like a sexy astronaut at every gig.

I saw that Willy Wonka movie last weekend and I didn’t care for it one bit. For one thing, that boat scene triggered a flashback that took a full day to get out of. Also, I don’t like the message it sends to kids. Chocolate should be eaten because it’s delicious, not because you want to see the place where the chocolate is made. I’ve been to chocolate factories before and they’re okay, but they’re really nothing special. They’ve got a tasty smell but that’s about it. If you’re looking for a contest with a real prize, play the lottery.

Also, some things in that flick just didn’t add up. First of all, if I was in that crowd when the little kid found the golden ticket, there’s no way I’m letting him get home with it. I may not be as fast as I used to be, but that kid couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve years old. I’d just trip him, snag the ticket, and that would be the end of it. Goodbye sissy kid, hello free trip to chocolate paradise.

I don’t usually title these buggers, but today I’m going to. I’m calling it “What I Look for in a President” because I keep hearing all kinds of buzzing about Presidents and elections and blacks and ladies and Mormons and short guys. I don’t follow the news, but I use newspapers for lots of other purposes so it kind of just soaks in.

I’ve been through lots of Presidents in my time and after a while, you get a sense of what you want in a leader. Here’s my list of what I look for in a President:

1. I want a President who likes to dance. You get a square up there and none of the other countries want to party. The key to international relations is dancing.

2. My President needs to get pissed. Too many of those stiffs get to the White House and glad-hand everyone. Somebody does something terrible to America, they sit there calmly in their football-shaped office and tell us that everything is going to be okay. I want a dude (or dudette) who grabs a golf club and smashes things when they talk to the nation. I want a leader who’s not afraid to tell everyone to go to hell.

3. I want a President that looks good dressed up. Nice cheeks bones are an added bonus.

4. If they’re going to make bad decisions, they better make up for them spectacularly. I’m talking personalized apology notes, public floggings, and free ice cream. If they want to sit in a dunk tank, I’ll be the first in line to take a shot.

5. I want at least three controversies, none of which make America look bad. The President getting caught with an unbelievably foxy hooker is okay, but the President getting caught hitting the foxy hooker is not. Selling weapons to Europe is fine, but selling weapons to Asia is not. I’ll also accept some kind of unintentional foreign insult controversy, but it has to be funny and not boring.

Look, it’s not like I vote or anything. I’m just sharing my guidelines for good leadership. You should probably figure out what you look for in a President on your own because it’s good for democracy blah blah blah. Hopefully next November, if I’m still in America, whoever gets voted in will hit all five of my criteria. If not, I can always move to Saskatchewan. I hear Regina’s nice.

I want to say something about naps. They’re great. I can’t get enough of them. I take as many naps as I possibly can – at home, at work, malls, public restrooms, adult movie theaters. At work, there’s this closet downstairs that’s filled with really comfortable mops. You bundle those mops together and you’ve got yourself an instant mattress. Not only that, you also end up getting a pretty good cleaning, depending on how much you roll around when you sleep. Most days I don’t even shower anymore because I know those mops will do the job for me. Three or four times a day, I tell the redhead that I’m going to get a snack and then pop down to my closet for some shuteye. Depending on how I feel, I’ll usually stay for thirty, forty minutes before heading back up. I call them “closetiestas,” like the Spaniards do.

Some people like a lot of pillows but I’m not one of them. I like one pillow at the most. Sometimes, I’ll toss the pillow away and just use a rolled up washcloth. No need to be greedy about your head cushions, right?

This is the year I’m finally going to tack on those extra fifteen pounds. I’ve been skinny since birth (2 lbs. 8 oz.) and every year I tell myself that this is going to be my big year for bulking up. Well guess what, body? THIS IS THE YEAR. I’m going to get so fat.

I better not become one of those dudes that get a fat belly and nothing else. I hate those jerks. From behind, they look like normal joes, but as soon as they turn around – bam! – how did that guy get pregnant? Skinny legs and a fat tummy is no way to go through life, that’s for sure. When I get fat, I want to be fat everywhere. I want people to look at me and think “doughy.” I want kids to puff out their cheeks at me and pretend there’s an earthquake every time I take a step. I want to get so fat that I don’t even get fat-rolls when I sit down, I just get a blob.