"This is where I heard you stand to see all five planets at once."

There are often new entrants into my ever-expanding feud with stupidity. I've already discussed my ongoing feud with UPS and Kinkos and much of the major motion picture industry. But rarely do I get a chance to single out just one stupid person. Really I get that chance almost every day of my life, but I don't often use it.

When I retell a story about someone else's stupidity, I often realize part way through that I'm going to have to pump up the ending to make it interesting. Because the guy who simply stands there on an escalator while everyone else is walking by isn't all that entertaining, no matter how much it annoyed me at the time.

"He wouldn't move! Can you believe that?!"

Long pause.

"I mean, he just stood there!"

Long pause.

"And then some guy smacked him in the head, and he didn't even feel it!"

Long pause.

"I think maybe he was dead or something."

Shorter pause. Possible reaction.

"Yeah. That's what happened...Can you believe that?"

This situation often prevents me from relating my stories of individual stupidity, since I don't want to constantly have to pretend people on escalators are dead. Thankfully, I recently caught a piece of conversation so inane that I've been able to share it with everyone.

"This is where I heard you stand to see all five planets at once."

That's what a woman said as I walked by her on my way to visit my mother. My mother, who taught me when I was younger, that there are, in fact, nine planets.

Remember the anagram we had to learn? Each word stood for a planet. My was Mercury. Very was Venus. I don't remember the whole thing, but it was something like, "My Very Educated Mother...is a lot smarter than the moron on the corner of 65th and Queens Boulevard." I know that's not it exactly, but it's been a while.

The woman, who looked as though she'd been alive when at least one of the nine planets was discovered, did not stop there.

"You're supposed to be able to see every one of em," the sudden-astronomer said. "Usually, you can't see any."

She was partially right. For the next few weeks, you can allegedly see five (of the nine) planets. But I missed the part where the exact spot to see them was the corner of 65th and Queens Boulevard. Did I mention it was still light out?

The part of this whole thing that gets to me is that her friend didn't disagree. While it's possible she knew better than to bother correcting Ms. Cleo, she was probably more ignorant and looking to her slightly less dumb friend for guidance. Did I accidentally discover the late 50s version of Beavis and Butthead? Only instead of the AC/DC shirt she sported a raincoat and a fisherman's hat. But my discovery pales in comparison to the news that all five planets were aligned.

Perhaps I should not judge this woman an idiot. Maybe she's brilliant in other disciplines. She could be a fantastic business woman or doctor or musician. Though I'm guessing if she were a musician, she'd be the drummer. (Take that, Ringo!)

The real problem with stupidity is that it is contagious. She knew part of the story, but was explaining things as if she understood the whole thing. How often do you repeat things you heard without corroborating the facts? Constantly. This woman was half correct. But half very very incorrect.

It is possible that this woman heard about the five planets from someone she worked with, perhaps a fellow surgeon or bandmate, and repeated it. But that guy heard it from his dry cleaner. Who heard it from his cousin Brenda. Who heard it from her cable guy. Who was really just trying to say that he knew a guy on Queens Boulevard who, for 65 bucks, will hook you up with some extra MTVs and that's how you stand to see all five Janets at once.

But odds are this woman is another casualty of the "I got through most of my life without bothering to learn details, I can make it the rest of the way" attitude. Or maybe she works for UPS.

Whoever she is, and what ever kind of drums she plays, I hope she is reading this. So she could learn three things.

1) There are nine planets.
2) You can, in fact, always see at least one planet. Look down.
3) It is never too late to learn something new.

Maybe next week, I can teach her to step to the side on an escalator.

Dear Joe,

i'm still in high-school and it *looks* like ima be graduating this year. and i plan on goin to college, so i'm wondering, since ima be on a tight budget, what are the bare essentials for my dorm room?

inquisitively,
highschool is boring

Dear Guy Who Is Right,

How is it that you know the word "inquisitively"� and not the phrase "I'm going to be?"� I know. Because you're a smart guy, but you pretend to be a dillhole so people don't beat you up. Survival instinct, my friend. Well played.

So you want to know what you need for your dorm? Well, I'll tell you. Because that's what we do here at the Joe College corporate headquarters. That, and make photocopies of our asses.

First, get a black light. Once you have that, buy one set of bed sheets and never change them, forgetting that you can see certain things under a blacklight. Buy that poster with Jim Belushi from Animal House, and maybe the one of the two chicks kissing in their underwear. Don't buy frames though - no one likes a guy with class. Next, buy a conversation piece - could be a pet or a plant or a guitar. Anything that let's you say, "hey, wanna go back to my room and see my [blank]?"� And of course, no college room is complete without an out of context quote from a magazine hanging on your door.

But if you want to actually have a good room, buy a few posters that mean something to you and frame em, get a nice computer because you'll spend half your time on it, and get a few organizers for your desk, shelves, and closet so you can actually make an 8x8 foot room livable. Oh, and I wasn't being sarcastic about that conversation piece. Because it just doesn't work when you say, "hey, wanna go back to my room and see my, um, room?"�

Dear Joe College,

I have a problem with people in my dorm and their taste in music, I am open to all types of music but they aren't. They are convinced that any music that isn't underground is terribly bad and talentless, Or they only liked that famous band BEFORE they were famous, and now that they are famous they must suck ass. One night there were two kids that shot underground band names back and forth trying to stump each other for an hour straight. "OH, you know whos good? The Jeffery walks and talks while he groove's town project!" "Yeah, man, I've seen them like 4 times, but you know whos better? The Yonder LLama eats grass on the misty hill confessional" And so forth. How can I explain to them they are idiots?

Andy

Dear Andy,

Oh, I love the Yonder Llama. "Suicide Pantyhose"� is easily my favorite song. But their first album was way better than their second, because people actually bought their second album, and their first is only available through the Vietnamese Black Market and certain locations of Best Buy.

Sorry, sarcasm hairball.

Now that that is cleared up, there is absolutely no way to explain to these people that they are idiots, though you can take solace in the fact that most people in the world are on your side here. The one suggestion I have is to tape record their idiocy. When they go back on their word in two months, play it for them. But don't tell the indie kids it's a recording of them. Say it's your favorite new underground band, "My floormates are a bunch of poser assbags."�

Thanks for writing. This was Joe College saying, "An assbag is just a big bag full of asses."�

Got a question about an aspect of college life? Want to be made fun of? Then this is the place for you! Send all your college-related questions to joecollege AT observationalhumor DOT com.

OK, a few things...

1) Our friend and Radio Personality Doc Reno down in Florida has a new line of shirts out at BigPileOfShirt.com. So check those out and be sure to check out CollegeHumor's sports segment this Monday on his syndicated afternoon show. Cool.

2) Streeter Seidell has some new columns out right here, so give those a look.

3) That deal where you get a year of Maxim and Stuff for $10 total is still going, so if ya want that, get the hookup here.

4) Did you know that Carlos Santana is blind?? Nah, that's just a rumor we made up. But what is true is how HOT these HOTlinks are!

Now that presidential election season is upon us, we are in the throes of the NCAA tournament, and it's just about a year since we declared not-war on Iraq, I thought it was high time someone discussed why the set of Little House on the Prairie had so many potatoes.

If it has been a while since you've seen Little House on the Prairie, you are obviously not one of the three people who have purchased the DVD boxed set. That's right - for just four easy payments of more money than it's worth, you can purchase the very same episodes you grew up ignoring as a child.

Most people who read my column are too young to have had the chance to ignore Little House on The Prairie, but I'm reasonably certain they would have, given the proper chance. The show was cancelled in 1982, making anyone under 22 unable to have seen a new episode. I'm only 24, and I remember the show fairly well. I must have seen it in syndication because I have mean parents.

I kid, I kid. I'm sure it was a great show that was heartwarming and taught you lessons about life and little houses and prairies. They resurrected it for one final episode in 1984. Which I'm sure was also heartwarming and taught us lessons and. Oh, sorry. I fell asleep before I could finish that sentence.

I was reminded of the show recently because a friend of mine actually purchased the boxed set. She's a big fan, which is crazy because she's not nuts or 85. But she was watching it and I walked in during a heartwarming episode about little houses and prairies.

The episode also dealt with the possibility of Mrs. Ingalls having an affair, even though what really happened is that some dude who was finishing her kitchen kind of liked her. Oooh, scandalous. The oldest daughter got all upset and the worker guy ran off, but the real story is that there were potatoes everywhere.

There was one scene in particular when the family was in, I don't know, a barn, and the conversation got tense between Mrs. Ingalls and the hotter daughter. And as the hotter daughter stormed off, I noticed that there were several huge baskets of potatoes. There were probably 500 potatoes in the scene. That's a lot of potatoes for a show not involving some guy in the army being punished by having to peel potatoes.

If this were actual footage of the prairie, which I am guessing it is not because the prairie had better lighting, the potatoes would be a bit odd, but I would say, "okay, they just happen to be in front of potatoes."� My problem is that these potatoes had to have been imported. I am wondering what went on while the set was being decorated.

"Folks, we're going to need to make this look authentic. You know what that means. Potatoes."�

"Sure thing boss. I've got a bag of them right here."�

"Just a bag? You're fired! We need more than a bag! We need a truck full of potatoes!"�

"Don't you mean a wagon?"�

"Zzzzzzz."�

I shouldn't keep joking about how boring the show is, because it did produce one very exciting childhood memory. There was an episode where the kids thought the barn was haunted, possibly by the ghost of Mr. Potato Head. My mother actually asked me if I was frightened.

I was already sarcastic as a four-year-old, so I pretended to be scared and ran to the bathroom and locked myself in, laughing. It stopped being funny when the lock jammed and I was stuck in the bathroom for over an hour. By the time I got out, I was crying hysterically (come on, I was four!) and my family thought I really had been frightened by Nellie Oleson's bucket of parts.

I should mention that the role of Laura Ingalls Wilder was played by Melissa Gilbert, who has since become the hotter sister. She was also cast in almost every made for TV movie produced since 1987, since Meredith Baxter Birney wasn't always unavailable.

Cartoon fans might also know Gilbert as the voice of Barbara "Batgirl"� "Yoko"� Gordon in the animated Batman series. For those of you who are not Batman fans, you may not know that the introduction of Batgirl to the series is analogous to the introduction of Cousin Oliver to the Brady Bunch. A show on which the former hotter Ingalls sister once guest starred. Ow, my head. Perhaps I should have some aspirin.

Maybe there's some behind these potatoes.

We are now significantly in the month of March. Or as it was called last year, February Part II - This Time, It's Personal.

Last March was terrible. And last April and May weren't much better. This March, however, isn't as bad in most places. March first in New York was actually t-shirt weather. Last March first, the only way you could get away with wearing t-shirts in New York was if you sewed them together in a quilt.

I don't know what last spring was like in the rest of the country. I also don't know what last spring was like in New York, because we didn't have one. Last year, winter lasted from October to May, with a few blasts of Super Winter thrown in. Super Winter, for those of you who do not follow the latest developments in the weather community, is a genetically altered version of winter, imbued with the power to freeze your patooties off.

I do not want to get too excited about the weather being warmer than it was a few weeks ago. In all fairness, most ice cubes are warmer than it was a few weeks ago. But I can't help get excited at the thought of being able to wear my leather jacket again. It is warm enough to put away my big poofy winter coat, a garment that is as dorky as it is useful, and it is extremely useful. It makes sense that something that keeps me very warm also prevents me from ever being cool.

I have been a New Yorker long enough to know that the northeast gets one more shot of cold before everything warms up for real. It has often snowed after March 21st, which is unfair because that is supposed to be the first day of spring. If god wakes up in the morning and wants it to snow, he ought to look at a calendar. Making it snow in spring is like wearing white after Labor Day - you're just not allowed. Which makes things difficult for god since, according to movies, he wears white constantly. (As an aside, how much fun would it have been to write "for god's sake" in that paragraph?).

I am a big fan of warmth, which makes winter difficult for me. This year, I spent a month of it in Los Angeles. I know, I cheated. But it was for a good cause. Cause I didn't want to freeze my patooties off.

Where are your patooties, anyway? Men and women both seem to have them, and they're plural, meaning they are not your butt. Unless a patootie is a butt cheek. Whatever it is, I freeze mine off constantly.

My final two years in college, I tried a different kind of cheating by getting to spring a week early. I went to spring training in Florida for spring break, figuring that by the time I got back, it'd be warmer. No. By the time I got back, it was just as cold, albeit later in the year. But it felt even colder since I'd just spent a week in shorts.

And then it got worse. Mid March is when it's still cold but all the landlords shut the heat off since it should be warm by then. I was left shivering, having to do all the schoolwork I didn't touch while on break, with no patooties to be found anywhere.

There are people that purposefully live in Vermont and Washington and (gasp!) Canada that deal with cold a lot more than I do. My worst winter probably pales in comparison to their best, though anyone who gets as little sun as they do pales in comparison to anything. There's a reason why people in North Dakota and Minnesota have those accents. Because their mouths are frozen about a half inch narrower than everyone else's. There's also a reason they call it "pop." Because saying the name of their states taught them that words rhyming with "soda" sound funny coming from people whose mouths are frozen about a half inch narrower than everyone else's.

My mocking aside, I do have a great deal of respect for anyone who lives in any of those places. I respect anyone who knows how to put snow chains on a car, who considers fifty degrees spring, and who can deal with cold on such a regular basis.

But not while they're wearing those big poofy winter coats. Those just look silly.

Joe Man got a dilemma for you,

I'm currently in Germany with the Air Force and there is a girl back home @ Florida State which I had a thing for back in High School and well one night when I was home on leave we kinda fooled around a bit. But we were both drunk, so I don't think it meant as much to her as it did to me. So that creates the dilemma, being so far away should I just say forget her and concentrate myself on the hot, yet hard to come by, air force girls.. or completely revamp my thinking and go after the german females.

Mike

Mike Man got an answer for you,

Dude, you're in Germany with the Air Force. Girls love that crap. This girl is probably pining away for you while you're overseas. However, she's not waiting for you. So bang all the German girls you can and then when you get back tell her that they meant nothing, and you missed her the whole time. Or you can get off your wussy ass and call this girl and actually tell her how you feel. Your choice.

Dear Joe College,
I am having a little trouble on the lady front. My problem is this: The two girls I am currently having sex with are all well and good, but they are both very against me going back door on them. I must admit, I am more than a little curious about this whole anal phenomenon, especially after several friends have been praising it extensively. How do I convince them to let me dabble in the forbidden zone, hopefully without running the risk of killing of the friends with benefits status?

Sincerely,
Locked out of the back door

Dear Filthy Liar,

"Dear Joe. I have a problem about being too cool. Can you help me? Because I hate being this cool. Man, am I cool."

First off, you are either not having sex with two separate girls, or you are and they're both ugly and that doesn't count. If you were cool enough to have sex with two hot girls, you wouldn't need me. But I will answer your question as if you're not making this up just in case some kid is reading this and, when he grows up, he wants to be as cool as you think you are.

If you want to sexually experiment with someone, you can't just come out and ask because some people are completely closed off to that type of thing. Though it sounds like these girls are easy, so I wouldn't give up just yet. I suggest betting about something you know you're wrong on, and have the stakes be that the winner can do whatever they want sexually.

"Frank Stallone TOTALLY played Rambo in the sequel! Wanna bet?"

You'll need to be willing to do whatever she wants, but the next time you know you're right, it'll be that much easier to make that bet again, and this time you'll win. Though when you're having anal sex with two girls you invented for the purposes of this email, really, everybody wins.

If you are actually banging both these girls, I apologize, and instead offer you this advice. "Are you nuts? You've got two girls willing to have sex with you. Don't screw this up!"

Thanks for writing. This was Joe College saying, "Never look two gift cows in the butt." Got a question about an aspect of college life? Want to be made fun of? Then this is the place for you! Send all your college-related questions to joecollege AT observationalhumor DOT com.

Two quick sites I wanna mention, then hotlinks. First, our friend Kyle runs a site called GigWorthy, which you should go to if you're in a local band. Also, T-ShirtsThatSuck have some new hot shirts that totally don't suck, so check those out here. Have a bitchin' weekened, dudes.

I recently spent a week at home with the flu. But the virus that really pisses me off is on my computer. Actually, it's not on my computer. It's on someone else's computer. It's just high tech enough to convince thousands of people that it's on mine.

As a public service, I am going to explain how these viruses work. Then I am going to hunt down the people that write viruses and string them up by the hair on their big toes.

Let's imagine a scenario. John, after spending hours of downloading internet porn, gets an email from a recognizable address. The email is cryptic or garbled or blank, and comes with an attachment with an extension of .scr, .pif, .eml, or .zip. And John, hoping it's more porn, downloads it anyway. John is an idiot. John is still smarter than most people who own computers.

John's computer, aside from being infected with numerous STDs, is now also infected with a worm virus. Worms typically send themselves out to everyone in an infected address book - from both John and other people in the address book. John is the only one with the virus. But because of how the virus replicates, it looks like other people have it, too. Which is convenient because as a people, humans are excellent at trying to blame someone.

When you're sick, what do you do? Look for the last person who was sniffling near you and blame them. And the following week when someone blames you for getting them sick, you get all pissed off and tell them it couldn't be your fault. That's the same selfish set of values that allows us to move someone else's laundry when they're 15 minutes late and then flip out when they do it to us.

This week, someone with a virus had both me and my old Yahoo mailing list in their address book. So what happened? A blank e-mail with a mysterious attachment was sent out from me to my old mailing list. Never mind that in four years, I've never once sent an attachment. Never mind that I have never sent my mailing list an e-mail on a Tuesday. Never mind that I haven't used that mailing list in three weeks. Several dozen people downloaded it anyway. And of course, they blamed me.

Some sent me warning e-mails. Some unsubscribed (from my old mailing list, so who cares?). And some got angry. VERY angry. I was flooded with e-mails asking me why I'd sent them a virus. Because I must have done that on purpose. Was I sitting around, upset that I had a burgeoning career as a columnist, and decided to do something about it? "I know how to destroy my career," I must have said, "I will maliciously spread a virus! Let me see, who do I want to hate me? Oh, screw that, I'll just send it to everyone!"

Let's say you opened the virus, thinking I'd decided to reuse my old mailing list on a Tuesday to send out my first attachment, attached to a blank email. So now you have a computer virus. It's still your fault. Think about it this way: if someone blows their nose near you, and then you open their tissue and rub it all over your face, can you really blame them when you wake up sneezing the next day?

Computer viruses have been around for many years and it's time we understand them. If you get an email that confuses you with an attachment that looks suspicious, delete it. You know why you don't? Because you're afraid you could be missing something. But if your friend or boss or porn site had something important to send, they'd re-send it.

And if you do miss the occasional e-mail, so what? For me, e-mails and females are very similar. If there were a 95% chance that opening something would give me a virus, I'd forget it and move on to the next piece.

If you do get a computer virus from someone, don't get angry at them. Though if it's a non-computer virus, you can string them up by the hair on their big toe. When you get that cryptic e-mail (and you will), cut the "sender" some slack. Soon enough, someone will be blaming you. And then you'll have to go back and explain the whole worm virus thing to them. Maybe you can show them this column as proof.

If you haven't already unsubscribed.