n a congressional hearing reminiscent of the McCarthy hearings, only filled with really beefy guys, baseball record-setter Mark McGwire clumsily deflected questions about his own history with steroids while damning the drugs on one side and on the other warning about the failure of those involved with the sport to stop it. Sweetie McGwire, standing at a hulking 8 feet tall and nearly 4 feet wide, refused to directly deny using artificial means to induce the strength to hit his then record-setting 70 homeruns.

“I’m not here to talk about the past,� said the monstrous humanoid homerun-hitter, “I’m here to be positive.� McGwire did not invoke his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination, and congressmen involved appeared unwilling to play hardball with a beloved American athlete while all the cameras were running.

Offering more information was another baseball heavyweight, retired player and former superhunk Jose Canseco, firmly off steroids and now shrunken to a 5-foot-1 imitation of a pale raisin. Canseco confessed to having used performance-enhancing substances to improve his game, also naming names in his hot new book Juicied, available for sale at Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble Online.

“Steroids were part of the game, and I don’t think anybody really wanted to take a stance on it,� said the small, hideous man, pointing with a frantic gesture. “If Congress does nothing about this issue, it will go on forever.� In his haste to make a point, Canseco’s finger then snapped off and flew into the face of Rep. Elijah Cummings (D-Maryland). Sister, that thing was so funny he should’ve charged money!

“We don’t blame the players,� said ranking Committee Democrat Henry Waxman (California). “We blame the countless faceless officials of the baseball union, reserving some blame for the rich owners who the people already hate. No, the players are innocent pawns in all this. And we most definitely do not blame the many millions of baseball fans who turn out in record numbers to watch mysteriously large and beefy men knock baseballs out of the park in numbers unheard of in the early days of the game. We are all shocked and outraged by the claims in Mr. Canseco’s book, and not at all one little bit were expecting someone to admit such a thing sooner or later. Once this congressional probe has thoroughly asked inane questions about the matter, we hope America will be able to go back to its blind faith in its inhuman athletic stars.�

Sidestepping inquiries about his own steroid use has already fanned the hulking monster controversy around McGwire, who in 1998 won out a season-spanning homerun race between himself and Sammy Sosa by hitting 70 dingers, breaking Roger Maris’ old record of 61. The record didn’t last too long, child, as another beefy uberman named Barry Bonds, also frequently mentioned in the same sentence with the s-word, broke McGwire’s record in 2001. The record was most recently broken by Seattle Mariners third-stringer Mitcho Klursky, who batted 78 homeruns out of the park during all this season’s practice sessions. The record is expected to be broken again before the end of the season, and possibly before this article concludes.

The hearings are expected to end sometime this week with some ever-popular backpatting and glorious nostalgic reflection on how great baseball is, with possible inclusion of apple pie, mothers, and America itself. This reporter, for one, would like to make it known that even as Jose Canseco’s nuts continue to shrink into BB rifle stock, she’d still do him. Mm-mmm, hon.

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In ancient times, the land area that is now Iraq was famous as the birthplace of the donut. A romantic land rich in donut-making resources, Iraq was the envy of pastry-loving empires both far and wide. All was well until neighboring Iran developed the bagel, a less enjoyable but more religiously sanctioned round breakfast food. The ensuing bad blood led to several wars and snide remarks between the nations that have persisted to this day.

Originally, the land of Iraq was called Sumeria, because they didn't know yet that it was Iraq. Actually, originally it was just some primordial goop deep underwater, filled with little one-celled nasties having sex and eating each other, but that timeline is beyond the scope of our column today. In recognizable human terms, the land was originally Sumeria. The Sumers were a decent folk, which is exactly why they were conquered and raped to death by the Akkordians in 2300 BC. A vile and heartless people fond of inventing annoying musical instruments, the Akkordians took thousands of years of Sumerian agricultural and cultural development and cocked them all up, and after a few decades they had nothing left but a handful of stale beans and polka music.

Eventually the Babylonians came and kicked their strange asses out of town. Peace and prosperity returned to the region and the people lived in happiness. Which, understandably, bored them to tears. The prosperous Babylonians grew cocky, especially king Hummerabi, who reveled in putting the neighboring Assyrians in their place. One day Hummerabi went too far when he enraged the king of Assyria by sending him a plaque on his birthday that featured two gold walnuts over the inscription "Nuts to You."

People lived to conquer back in those days, since your arid desert kingdom and nagging wenches never seemed as appealing as the other guy's. So the birthday prank was all the invitation that Assyria needed to attack Babylonia and conquer it. This was all fine and good, since the people had seen it all before and frankly were bored of being conquered, until the Assyrians passed a law saying no cursing on Sundays. Now, the Babylonians were some cursing motherfuckers, and they weren't about to let some bitch-assed Assyrians come in and tell them what the fuck they could say and what they couldn't. So the people rose up and put the smackdown on Assyria, wishing the Assyrians a pleasant fucking voyage as they rode them out of town on a rail.

Eventually a man named Nebuchadnezzar (Babylonian for "naked at noon") rose to lead Babylonia to great heights of power and wealth. Known for stunning the enemy by appearing in battle stark raving naked, Nebuchadnezzar (known from here on out as "Neb" to prevent carpal-tunnel damage) led the Babylonians in conquering all of Assyria and destroying all of the wonderful culture and science the Assyrians had developed over hundreds of years. While the Babylonians were celebrating their victory, Neb also conquered Judea and Jerusalem without telling anyone. Before long, Neb's conquering became a serious problem and his friends had to hold an intervention, which was less than successful since he stormed out in the middle and conquered the Cassites.

Thankfully for the rest of the free world, Neb got ahold of a bad egg while conquering the Mitanni and died of salmonella. The world rejoiced a second time when Neb's son Nebuchadnezzar II turned out to be gay, and instead of conquering everything in sight he built the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, which he kept saying were for his "wife" but nobody bought that worn-out old chestnut.

Babylonia rose to unprecedented power and distinction under Neb II, since all of their resources weren't going toward ridding the planet of the scourge of non-Babylonians. After the death of Neb II, the land was conquered in succession by Cyrus the Great, Alexander the Great and Ted the Good Father. The Persians won the land in a promotional sweepstakes, and though they moved in they never stopped complaining about the sand on their nice rugs. Eventually the Muslims came to town and blew the shit out of everybody, even though there were only about three of them, but they meant business.

Thanks to a progressive "Muslim or die!" philosophy on the part of the region's new landlords, the area remained Muslim until Genghis Khan showed up in 1219. In the mean time, Baghdad had become the center of world power and higher learning, which meant it was about time for some asshole with a club to come and kill everyone. Sure enough, that's what Genghis did, pausing only briefly when he himself died in 1227. To the surprise of few, Genghis' son popped out of his father's corpse like some kind of insane matrioshka doll and continued the continent-wide rampage that was his father's dream for humanity.

Eventually the Mongols died off, or more accurately, ate each other, and Iraq was without leadership. Several different gangs ruled Iraq at one time or another, including the Ding Dong Daddies and the Sand Badgers. Leather jacket motorcycle rumbles in the street were common, or at least their camel-based equivalents.

Eventually the Ottomans took over, ruling the land fairly and with exceptional foot comfort. Of course the Ottomans got greedy when they made a play for the whole couch in WWII and were ordered to go piss off and die. The British then ruled Iraq until the 1960's, when they were so into the Beatles they forgot about the Middle East entirely and Iraq snuck out after curfew and declared its independence.

The rest of the story has been pretty well covered by Tom Clancy and on Entertainment Tonight. It's the usual story: ineffectual leaders and kings are blown up left and right, and Saddam becomes president after shiving some dude in the shower. Iraq attacks Iran in 1980, still pissed about the bagel thing. Iraq attacks Kuwait in 1990 because they won't stop touching Iraq's border, and the US steps in to intervene, figuring it'll be good for a few bear claws and pink donuts with sprinkles. That brings us to the present day, as Iraqis wait out the US hamburger-bombing of their country, waiting out this latest conquering in hopes that they'll come out of the deal with a Hard Rock Café in the end.

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The American people should thank the inventor of the remote control. We should thank our fat asses off. Because if it weren't for the remote, we'd have to get up off the couch every time something crappy came on TV, which means we'd all have bionic Teflon knees by now. And I don't know about you, but I like my current knees just fine.

Before the invention of the remote, Americans had to get up off their big, fat asses to change the channel every time something crummy came on, which led to the modern trend of watching whatever is on for hours regardless of quality. Beaten down and bitch-slapped by the repressive lack of technology in those days, Americans slouched away their meek little lives in front of such stultifying fare as Ted Hammerslut's Big Band Breakdown and The Russians in the Cushions, both of which were huge ratings hits in the 50's because TVs came from the factory set to that channel.

During World War II, those ingenious fucks known as the Nazis developed the first remote control technology, which they utilized in the design of a robotic doorman that was used to heil Hitler a cab when he was visiting Nazi central headquarters in Berlin. Due to the crummy technology of the day, the robot didn't work very well and after decapitating Hitler's mother-in-law in 1943, it was given the German medal of honor (the coveted "Big Bastard") and retired to a furniture showroom in Dresden.

Early attempts to adopt the Nazi remote technology for use in television sets were unsuccessful, as the remotes would channel-surf on their own looking for reruns ofThe Three Stooges.

The first successful television remote was developed by the Zenith Electronics Corporation in 1950. Called the "Lazy Fuck," the device was attached to the television by a long wire, and was used less for controlling the TV than it was for tripping crabby housewives in hilarious ways all across America. Though a huge hit among unhappily married men all across the country, overall the unit did poorly due to its bitingly accurate name.

In 1955, Zenith sort of improved on their invention with the creation of the "Flashmatic," a small device that looked exactly like a flashlight but wasn't because it said "Remote Control" on one side. Viewers aimed the Flashmatic at one of four light-receptive cells positioned on the corners of their television screen, allowing them to turn the set on, change the channel up or down, and explode the television. Some considered the lack of an "off" command to be an inconvenience, but forward-thinking Zenith executives imagined a day when Americans would never turn off their televisions, making unsightly "off" knobs a garish eyesore. The main purpose of this innovation, however, was to draw attention away from the Zenith's exploding feature, which made tidy profits for the corporation due to repeat business from customers with poor hand-eye coordination who blew up several television sets a year.

Eventually the Flashmatic had to be phased out since on sunny days the set would flash channels randomly for a few minutes before exploding, and in 1956 Zenith televisions killed half the residents of Arizona. The Flashmatic was replaced in 1957 by the Zenith Space Command, a revolutionary new remote technology named to appeal to small boys and the insane. The Space Command used an unpowered remote which contained four small aluminum rods. When the buttons on the unit were struck violently, preferably with a xylophone mallet, the rods would produce inaudible ultrasound tones that were then picked up by vacuum tubes hidden inside the television set.

The Space Command worked like a charm, a shitty, useless charm, and was a big hit among the tech-savvy and expectant mothers who soon realized that if they stood close enough to the humming set, they could see their babies. Unfortunately, after several years of lawsuits from families claiming birth defects and complaints from dog-whistle enthusiasts that their sets kept exploding, Zenith decided to discontinue the Space Command in 1959. For nearly two decades Americans were plunged back into the darkness of throwing coffee table knick-knacks and snack items at television sets in hopes of jogging the channel knob.

The modern remote made its debut in 1980, with current units using gamma radiation to perform tasks as disparate as setting a VCR's clock or cooking a Thanksgiving turkey faster than a microwave. Research found the gamma rays caused attention deficits in children and obesity in adults, but it was a small price to pay to not have to watch CHiPs anymore.

In 1992 MTV debuted a gameshow called Remote Control, which was of no consequence to anyone beyond the fact that it fills up three lines of column space.

Over the last twenty years, countless new remote-controlled innovations have hit the market, changing the way we live forever. From the "Bitch Be Quiet" human silencer to the remote-controlled "Woody," few can deny that remote controls are here to stay. And why not?

Well, I'm waiting. I'll expect an answer by Monday.

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