Um, okay here’s the deal. I’m going to let you in on something that I’ve not told many people. I’m… sort of a prophet. Not like, Prophet with a capital P, sent by God with a capital G… just… you know. A seer. A soothsayer. An auger, auspex. A prognosticator, prophesier, haruspex. One of these types. Ordinary folk. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re sitting there at your comuter desk chair of varying comfortabilty and saying to yourself, “Golly gee self! I never thunk there was nothin’ special ’bout heeem.” Well Jethro, you’re wrong. You want proof? I’m ’bout to bring da house down on all ya’ll.

Not so long ago, there was a football competition of considerable importance, which took place in Pasadena, California. They titled the game, The Rose Bowl. The night before this game, I fell asleep in my bed, dreaming of sugarplums and the like. However, something else was dreamt about in the wee hours of the morn. Though not able to see details of the game in my dream, I did in fact dream of a Texas Longhorn victory. Now I, just as I’m sure you are now, never believed in such debaucheries. Yet, as events played out during the night of January the 4th, my premonition proved itself true. Do you know what this means? It means I’m a prophet. Simple as that.

Now, just for kicks, let’s follow this logic a little further. If this is true, then indeed my other dreams would have to eventually come true as well. For instance, as recently as last night I am able to predict the sex of the newest Bechdel about to be born! I’m assuming everyone’s on pins and needles? Warning: if you want to be surprised, don’t read this… it’ll spoil everything. My dreaming powers have predicted that Kevin and Jen will soon have a baby girl. So how ’bout THEM apples, kiddies!! Um, interestingly… They won’t be going to the hospital. The baby is born in the airport. Reasons for this are unclear, but more importantly, the prophet is not to be questioned. NEXT!

That a little blase for you? I think I know my readers pretty well. You’re all looking for something a little more glamorous, a little flashier, exciting… right? Alright, try this one on for size. A few days ago I happened to have a dream about my other brother, Scott. He lives in Greensburg, PA and works at a military base in Johnstown, PA, where he docuements military aircraft certification and such. I’ll be honest, I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but you get the jist. Anyways, in my dream he inexplicably begins swatting at the planes and helicopters which fly by the base. The events that followed will surely terrify this great nation in the coming months. Probably summer, when it’s nice and warm. And ridiculous spectacles are appreciated most. Anyways, Scott will assume the body of King Kong and terrorize the city of New York for a few days in, we’ll say July. After having this fun, he will assume the body of a rat, plentiful in this region of the country in order to make an escape from authorities. By the following day, he’ll be home, safe and sound. NEXT!

Finally, I had a dream a while back about something rather creepy. Self-proclaimed D-List celebrities Kathy Griffin and Andy Dick will morph into one being… Kandy Griffdick. Um, I’llbe honest though… who didn’t see that one coming? I’m not claiming any higher powers on that one, I guess. Just… letting everyone know what to expect in the coming years. Uniquely, this will drop both of their status’s to E-List… which is basically circus sideshow freaks. Cause seriously, that’s weird. I’ll be honest though, I find them both to be hilarious. So really, this is an homage, as well as a prediction.

You see… not only do all of my predictions come true, or soon will, they all make perfect sense as well. If you ever have any questions about your future or whatever, feel free to contact me. My receptionist Dionne Warwick will transfer you through the Psychic Friends Network to get my extension. Anyways, best of luck to you… especially if you’re in a nightmare of mine. Ouch.

I’m back, baby I’m BACK!!! And I am ready, more than ever, to provide you, my beloved readers, with the hardest hitting journalistic infotainment capable by bipedal, upright homo sapiens. For the other type, you’ll have to go to “Brokeback Mountain,” or perhaps San Francisco. And let me tell you kiddies, it feels good to be back. Over break I was carrying around the guilt of having thousands of readers hanging in limbo during my hiatus, but have no fear childrens! Papa Bear (testing out the nickname… immediate results: not looking good) is back in the cave (yeah, I don’t like where that’s going. No one wants to read about caves. They’re dark, and scary. They house bats as well, and let’s be honest, I’m no Batman.)

So I bet you’re wondering what all this jibber jabbering is about? Well, I am too, a little bit. I’ve not fully decided what to write about but here’s my initial thought: Everyone wishes they were me. That’s my thesis, at least. But have no fear! I plan to fully back this up, so… here goes!

I attend the University of Texas, in beautiful Austin. Texas. Austin, Texas. Over break, on January 4th, to be exact, the University of Southern California played a football game. Now, because no one else matters, cable sports shows on the ESPN networks neglected to say who the game was against. That’s okay though, because if USC is in it, that’s all that matters! Well guess what, muchachos?! The Longhorns of the University of Vince You– I mean, Texas, prevailed and were crowned National Champions of Collegiate Football. Jeet is pumped.

Anxious to return to the “City of Champions” as I have just dubbed it, I flew back to Austin on January 15th, to find myself in a, dare I say, temperate climate! It was glorious! Over MLK holiday, I spent large amounts of time outdoors! I even tried my hand at a new phenomenon called “jogging,” perhaps pronounced “yogging,” the J might be soft, no one’s sure yet. (All proceeds from this joke go directly toward Will Ferrell and his masterpiece movie, “Anchorman.”) Jeet is pumped.

In transit to the south, my other football team, the Pittsburgh Steelers challenged the Indianapolis Colts in a sprited contest of wits, braun and perhaps black magic. Though I was only able to view the first half of the game, cramped into the extremely tiny “Friday’s Pub” located in the D Concourse of the giant X that is the Pittsburgh Airport, what I saw was… yes, stellar Steelers. (I am the first to make the connection between stellar, meaning outsanding [Websters, graduation present from Mr. and Mrs. George Cotters] and the Steelers. Therefore, I am calling Copyright, right here and now. Called it. Like shotgun. But legally binding.) ANYWAYS, thanks to an awesome pilot, those on the plane to Dallas were updated about every 10 minutes with scores, field position and highlights. Though the pilot’s intentions might have been admirable, I have a feeling he did this more for his own enjoyment, as the co-pilot was a Colts fan. I tip my cap to Mr. Pilot. And Jeet is pumped.

Fast forward one week. Sure, classes have started, but they don’t seem too awful (yet). Things are looking up! Erin Brockovich was on tv A LOT this weekend, which is always good. Fantastic movie. Although, for the children, they have to edit out all of the good lines. Anyways, AFC Championship game in Denver, Colorado, named after it’s pot-smoking founder, John Denver. Rocky Mountain WHAT, John??? What’s that in the last stanza? “I’ve seen it rainin’ fire in the sky, friends around the campfire and everybody’s HIGH, Rocky Mountain high.” Deplorable. They never should have lifted the ban on that song. Anyways, back to being jealous of my life, the Pittsburgh Steelers played the Denver Broncos. That’s right, an entire team of O. J. Simpson’s getaway vehicles. And he was a Heisman winner!!!! (Then again, so was Reggie Bush and Matt Lienart. OUCH, that one stings, don’t it Pete?) Anyways, the game was amazing. Ben Roethlisberger was unstoppable, and Jerome Bettis is heading to his hometown, and his first Superbowl ever. Once again, Jeet is pumped.

So basically, I feel bad for you. Because you are not me. Let’s be honest, 2006 has rocked thus far, and I don’t see any end in sight. National Championship, Superbowl, and I am about to claim the covetted “Uncle” status, as well. Plus, my dad isn’t completely blind! Things are lookin’ up! Anyways, I’m sure I’ll be posting more depressing, feel bad for me types of things soon. You know, the garbage you’re used to. But for now, Pax Romanus. And if you know what that means, I weep for you.