I went to the doctor the other day.  I showed up fifteen minutes early for my three o'clock appointment.  So I could fill out all the stupid paperwork.

By three, I was ready to be ushered into the back to find out whether or not I should be worried about this nasty rash that popped up out of nowhere.  The rash was down there (pointing south) and Hydrocortisone didn't do jack for me.  So I went to the doctor.

And waited. 

The other day I was stopped at a light.  It was nice weather so most people had their car windows down.  Suddenly, from the vehicle behind me, someone yelled.

"Poo Poo!  Hey, Poo Poo!"

I looked into the rear-view mirror and saw a black guy hanging out the passenger-side window of the car behind me, yelling at a girl in the next car.  She looked over and smiled, obviously happy at being called "Poo Poo."

Poo Poo?  I thought.  Her name is Poo Poo? 

Ever notice how certain groups of people tend to look the same?  Nerds develop the neat haircut and mismatched clothing.  Construction workers get tattoos and grow stubby beards.  Accountants wear glasses and exfoliate profusely.  And televangelists have helmet coifs and capped teeth.

What's the deal?

Is there a televangelist finishing school deep in the bowels of South Carolina?  You go in with the gift of gab and graduate with the televangelist inflection, new dental work and a large can of hairspray?  Women get the Crayola make-up set and Visine. 

A couple weeks ago, the illustrious Hannah Montana made an appearance at our fair Coliseum.  Every teenage girl within spitting distance attended.  But it wasn't Hannah who grabbed the headlines, it was the Coliseum management.

From the way the write-up in the paper read, Coliseum officials broke every moral law known to man.  They offended good god-fearing people by pulling a stunt only worthy of the most unscrupulous of humans.

They served beer.