Do you know where I can get a hot beef injection, now that Iowa is closed for kosher business?

Best Kosher? Gone.

I will forever miss those fantastic bagel dogs and mini corn dogs. Now I'll probably live till I'm 95. What the hell am I supposed to do with those extra years? I should probably stop wasting my money on M.U.S.C.L.E. toys.

Goddamn the Rubashkin family. First they make me care how cows die. Now they interfere with my meat intake. What's next, I'm going to start eating more salad because I find out that beef isn't healthy? I should say not. This is America, not Holland. Stupid Dutch people.

Not that Pittsburgh's got great meat anyway. I'm from the Midwest, where cows are robust but easily duped into being killed and chopped into cutlets. I lived in Chicago, where it's a rite of passage to befriend a calf, raise it as part of your family, and then slaughter it and eat it raw. Because they're committed to the carnivorous lifestyle. And because if they want to catch up to Milwaukee in the percentage of morbidly obese adults, they'll have to suck down more Polish Sausage.

Even when I lived in Boston meat was decent. Romanian pastrami was made by the local butcher, who flew in tiny Romanian grandmas to properly spice the meat, and paid them in calls from their grandchildren and shelled pistachios.

But here, the meat sucks. And it sucked before the whole Agriprocessors embarrassment. And it will continue to suck until they admit that Pittsburgh is not, in fact, a mid-Atlantic city, whatever that means. It's a Midwest town, complete with a stagnant economy, declining population, and tons of fat, cigarette-smoking children. Revel in your middle America-ness! It will make everyone feel better. Maybe I'll even get some decent cold cuts soon.

A side note: I'm not sorry for the lack of postings recently. I have a real job, that requres actual brain power, so I can't make up the funny as often as you'd like. I am sorry, though for the lack of downright bizarre posting. There aren't enough weird people here, so I find my weirdness dissipating. It doesn't last all day anymore. So I'm working with a team of scientists to come up with some sort of solution until I sucker my whacko friends into moving here. I'll keep you posted on those results.

Also, the Bears suck in a completely uninteresting way.

Just let me laugh in peace, you fascists!

I have a problem.

No, you know what? Screw that noise. I don't have a problem: all of you have a problem. I simply am more attuned to the daily joys of my life.

Here it is. When I think something is funny, I laugh. Is it a crime? Why must I bear the witheringly arched eyebrows of fellow coworkers, or Wife's bemused smile? Look, if we're going to watch Weekend at Bernie's, then I'm going to laugh. Andrew McCarthy is HILARIOUS.

Friends have said that, unlike me, they don't laugh out loud at the TV when no one else is around. What is that? I need an audience to giggle at The Office? Well, I have plenty of people around me at work, and they don't seem to appreciate my barely concealed laughter. And pretending I'm coughing doesn't really work unless my fellow attorneys think I've contracted the famous - and endangered - whooping cough. I can't speak for all of them, but there are at least...two? Three? that aren't complete morons.

But what, you may ask, am I laughing at at work? Aren't I spending interminable hours reading medical journals and e-mails between German biochemist lovers? In fact I am, and none of that is worthy of chuckles.

So I have to sneak the funny in through my headphones. I stole I mean paid for the download of Stephen Colbert's book, and let me say, he's a funny man. So funny, in fact, that he makes me snarf my apple juice. If, you know, I drank apple juice. Which I don't. Because I'm not 6.

Finally, there is the third category of things which I find side-splitting - the jokes I make to myself. Silently. In my head. Wife has the Dalai Lama's patience with this little idiosyncrasy because you know what? I happen to think that I am a laugh riot. A thrill ride of comedy, if you will.

I know. None of this supposed hilarity actually makes it here, to where you're trying to read it. I'm sorry about that. If, though, you lived inside my head, you would be laughing non-stop. Because therein I connect all the useless knowledge I have compiled, and much of it is quite humorous.

An example. Right now, Jon Stewart is interviewing some old political writer. He reminds me a little of the old guy from The Wedding Singer. You know, the one who makes fun of Adam Sandler's friend? Challenges him to a fight? Great tiny scene in a decent movie.

See, right there? I laughed out loud. But you couldn't, because you weren't in my head. And that's the upshot - the party? The one you're missing because you're too busy doing whatever it is you do? It's all up in my dome. You know you want in.

So, you know, get on that.