Maxwell writes:

Dear Melbotis,

My mother in law also writes an advice column. However, unlike your advice column, she has decided to let her other schizophrenic personalities join her in answering questions. I have noticed that your advice column is very successful, in some ways even more successful than my crazy mother in law's (and I mean "crazy" in the most endearing of ways. She does have three or four personalities, evidently.) own column. For instance, nobody writes to ask my mother in law for advice anymore, just one guy named Ryan who has been kind enough to send several questions. How does Melbotis manage to get so many questions? Also, can dogs be schizophrenic?

Thanks,

Maxwell

Dear Maxwell,

How to get so many question? Mel think that many people not have fulfilling life like Mel and need guidance. And Dr. Phil much more difficult to get hold of.

But how answer so many question tricky part. Mel have very busy schedule! First, Mel go outside and poo and then lay down in grass. Then Mel lay there all day until white lady come home and pet me on head. THen I bark bark bark at stupid neighbor dog. Later, Mel eat and wag tail. Then chubby man come home and pet Mel on head. Then chubby man goes into closet and change pants which is sight to behold. Then Mel follow man around house until man find Mel toy and shake it at Mel face and say "Here's your damn toy. Now will you piss off so I can sit down for two minutes?" So Mel try to play with toy and drop it on chubby man until he play with Mel. This consist of Mel trying to remove teeth by gripping tightly to toy while chubby man lean backward.

Then Mel go outside and bark bark bark at stupid neighbor dog. Then white lady go to bed and Mel get milkbone and go outside.

How to keep schedule of answer question? Mel not sure, but it real pleasure. Also, cat is ghost writer.

Is dog schizophrenic? We not know.

Finally, an exercise show with people sharing my physique, but with no Richard Simmons!

Well done, pollsters. You saw this one coming a mile away.

It's not looking good for The League's candidate of choice, the Reverend Al Sharpton. We sincerely hope that the good Reverend is able to pull ahead in the late hours of voting/ caucusing (or whatever the hell those Iowans are doing). However, should the good Reverend flop in the primaries, we are also excited about the notion of the good Reverend appearing in a future installment of The Surreal Life, possibly with Carrot Top, Cameo and Jenny McCarthy. I can dream, can't I?

further evidence that the Microsoft lawyers don't know when they're acting like maroons...

Two new blogs we're linking to here at the League.

Big salute to Emily for her colorful entry into the mind-boggling world of public journaling. And also to Distorted Veracity, which Jim pointed me to, and who has more faith in Rick Barnes and Co then myself.

The League is feeling oddly uninspired as of late.

There is a cloud of professional doom hanging over The league's head which may be part of the consternation. Also, the fact that "Ask Melbotis" was lifted directly from "Ask Zelda" over on Maxwell's page seems more than a little disingenuous.

I went to sleep at 7:30pm on Friday after a very, very busy work week. 7:30! I haven't done that in years. Somehow on the way home it hit me that I was insanely tired. I came home, ate a sandwich (I don't even know where the sandwich came from) and sat on the couch looking at the TV, feeling awful "it's been thirty minutes, and I feel no less awful" I told myself. I looked at the clock. It had been 3 minutes.

"I'm butt-assed tired," I said to Jamie. "I am going to bed."

And then I slept for 12 long hours. Which was terrific, because I got up at 7:30 and felt totally great.

The weekend went okay. I saw a good movie. Jamie even watched Conan with me on DVD, and we took Mel out to the pseudo-park in our neighborhood.

All in all, very quiet. Very nice.

But tomorrow I am going into work even though the Federal holiday says I don't have to. Too much to do. The professional hammer threatens to drop.

I need to go to the dry cleaner, and I need to buy a black ink cartridge for my printer. And I need to clean my bathroom, which is just gross enough I don't even want to touch it with cleaning agents.

Oh, and I ordered a jacket from an online store for fat guys. Yeah, I'm 6'5" and fat. The Gap does not accomodate me, which I tell them every time I am waiting while Jamie selects jeans. And then the sales guy says "oh, we have big sizes!" and then tells me a size I wore last when I was 19. Then I threaten to eat the stupid sales guy's head. I measured myself today. I am just at 6'5"+ in Nikes and something like 27 inches from elbow to elbow when my arms hang comfortably. Which means I don't fit in airplane seats and must order from this dumb online company if I want so much as a windbreaker because the retail store doesn't carry winter accesories in Arizona. Which is dumb. Anyway, the jacket is marked as "delivered" according to the company's website, but I don't have the jacket, so it's totally ridiculous. We'll see how it pans out, but dollars to donuts, I end up getting screwed on this one.