little more than a year away from the next presidential election, and with a trio of Republican contenders searching for signs of weakness, the president received more bad news when his approval rating among adult male Obamas hit an all-time low.

Poll experts, and not the fun kind who strip, say this revelation comes at a crucial time for the president, who has not even officially accepted his party's nomination for re-election yet. With his self-approval showing startlingly low numbers, it leaves a second term for President Obama in doubt.

The latest statistical information comes from a CNN poll on how well the president was addressing the nation's problems. Among all voters, regardless of age, gender, race, political leanings, and being the president or not, Obama continued to a challenging 46% approval rating; but among the important demographic of Barack Obamas, a key vote to win in 2012, Obama's once-solid 98% approval rating dipped drastically, all the way to 71%.

"Oh, brother, sometimes I don't think you know what you're doing at all," the president could be heard saying under his breath as he filled out the poll.

While overall Obama approval ratings remained steady among under-14 Obamas and adult female Obamas, holding at a steady 99% and 65%, respectively, the plunge in presidential self-approval is a number that needs significant gains if Obama hopes to get his own vote during the next election. There have yet to be any strong Democratic contenders to oppose the president, but with numbers consistently declining as the nation struggles to avoid further unemployment and the threat of a deeper recession, there is always a chance a third-party candidate or moderate Republican could steal the Obama vote away from the president.

Speaking candidly off the record, a private source within the president told reporters, "I don't know about this guy anymore. In 2008 everything looked so good, and I had a lot of hopes he could deliver on all those promises he made. Christ, it's almost the end of 2011 and what have we gotten for all our hard work? At some point it can't be Bush's fault anymore, and the president has to step up and be his own man, claim responsibility for the state of things. Where did our health care go? I thought we were going to protect Social Security and benefits? Is he caving on everything in his platform or can he just not stand up to the opposition?"

Added the confidential Obama source, "I don't know about this jobs bill thing either. Kind of looks like throwing good money after bad. I thought it might work last week, then I saw those poll numbers… damn, maybe I'm just kidding myself."

Our poll expert Jimmy Cusper, and no, I won't stop saying "poll expert," notes that a dip in the approval rating doesn't spell the end for the Obama campaign. There's more than enough time to make up those numbers in the next 13 months before the election.

"As they say in Washington, as goes the president, so goes the nation. Right now Obama's having a tough time of it, and you can't blame him—he talks a good game about what he's going to do to turn things around for the economy, improve social programs and reduce the budget, but when it comes time to put up or shut-up, it seems like he's getting nothing done. To him, at least. But it's time to stop playing nice guy, to put the focus on the Republicans and their lack of answers, to call their bluffs, and to really push some big agendas through in D.C. to make up for all the lackluster business of the past three years. It's hard, but not impossible. He just has to go to work and show himself he's not just talking out of his presidential ass."

Some good news for the president is that presidential self-approval ratings typically get a boost in late December and around New Year's, when family gatherings and a few days off from being leader of the free world help improve the way things look. Obama also suffered an uncommon fall in his self-approval rating this year when he turned 50 last month.

"You've got to look at things from the perspective of your average President Obama," Cusper suggested. "He just turned fifty years old and what does he have to show for himself? A dead-end job where none of his party supports him and the news would rather cover Sarah Palin's farts. By the way, did you see that coverage? Sounds like a duck with an accent. It might not be a landslide for Obama next year, but if he keeps pushing and does his best work, reminds himself why he won the people's hearts in the first place, he just may capture his self-demographic next year. He also stands to receive his biggest boost yet in numbers around the time of the Democratic Convention of 2012. All those balloons and people holding signs with your picture on it can't help but make you feel better."

They're still frightening numbers for the president in comparison to recent history. Even when his presidential approval rating hit an all-time low of 32% among voters, predecessor President George W. Bush's self-approval record never dropped below its standard 110% rating. Of course, a lot of those were taken right after naptime, about 3:15 p.m.

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Let us not tarry, gentle readers, 'cause I knew a guy who tarried once in Vietnam and it got him killed.

In my younger days, for a brief time, I followed the Dead—the rock band, not a group of actual living corpses. Though they did come close in their latter days. Eventually, I gave up that childishness. Now I follow Cheap Trick. Which is hard, because they don't tour as frequently anymore and that drummer is a crafty driver. But I haven't been dissuaded yet.

Have you seen the latest Star Wars movie? I highly doubt it, since I made it myself in my garage only a few days ago. Finally we all get all those questions about Yoda's sex life answered.

What's the deal with napkins? Is anybody actually using these things?

I tried reading a book the other day and, frankly, I wasn't all that impressed. I'm not saying everyone is wrong with all this "books, books, books" praise, but I don't see it myself.

If you are going to shoot the Creature from the Black Lagoon, do you need a hunting license or a fishing license? This assumes, of course, you're doing it by yourself and not part of some angry mob. However, this is the kind of predicament that keeps me up at night. It probably worries the Creature, too.

I am finally finished selling my antique condom collection. I thought I'd never be rid of those things. A bad area to invest your money, let's just say that.

I would never, under any circumstances, hit a woman. Go ahead—tempt me. Give me a free punch, promise me her back will be turned. Have her burn down my house and I still won't do it. I want to point out, of course, using a baseball bat is not counted as hitting by most judges. It's more of a bludgeoning.

I like croutons, but hate salad. What is the answer, my friends?

Johnny Cash was always known as the Man in Black, and probably always will be. It doesn't matter how black you dress, it's just a title that's impossible to wrestle away from him. I tried wearing purple for a year, but I suppose Prince had that all sewn up. I don't know who got fellated to preserve these titles, but I want my own and I'll wear anything, suck anything to get it. The Man in Chartreuse? The Man in Off-White? Let me know, people.

The guitar has reigned for years as the most popular instrument in the world. I say it's high time that tyranny came to an end.

For those who don't know my writing process, I carry a little brown book with me, all the time, in my coat pocket. When the muse strikes, the real muse, not just some bitch hitting me for no reason, I take out my book and scribble a thought down. Of course, getting a pen in here is a lot more difficult than hiding a little brown book. But I'm resourceful.

A reminder, folks: Never volunteer to suck a cock to get something. I make exceptions at times, of course, but it's always a good rule. And for God's sake, if you do, at least get what you were promised before you do it. Fool me once, as they say…

I am no longer welcome back at Cracker Barrel. I can do nothing more than continue to profess my innocence.

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Dudes, us rock 'n' roll die-hards can longer lie to ourselves: Rock 'N' Roll is dying.

Who among us is a music doctor, a hard rock Dr. House, who could diagnose when exactly rock 'n' roll contracted its fatal disease? It might have been the first time Richard Marx released his first album, or as late as when Russell Crowe thought he had the balls to rock. And no doubt we can put a lot of that blame on the cancerous influence of corporations. These modern corporations are leeches who suck the life right out of rock 'n' roll, nothing like the good corporations who gave the Who, the Rolling Stones, the Sex Pistols, and Pearl Jam before their big wide-release breaks.

The way I see it, we have two choices: We can sit back and wear black kerchief armbands and piss and moan about the death of rock 'n' roll—or we can save it. Guess which one Derek Zomny is all 'bout.

I speak the fothermuckin' truth when I say I have the one band that can save rock 'n' roll. I'm not so different than Jon Landau in Rolling Stone years ago, saying with certainty, "I have seen the future of rock 'n' roll and his name is Bruce Springsteen." My case is exactly the same, except for Rolling Stone had readers. Also, I am in the band that is the future of rock 'n' roll: Face Mask.

Despite being the lead singer/songwriter/lead guitarist/manager/van driver/owner for the band Face Mask, I have no bias when I say we are the best fucking band out there right now. When people ask me what is our sound, I say pure fucking beauty, man. We aren't like other bands and we refuse to sound like them. We aren't like these other bands that came to save rock 'n' roll but just kipe the original sound of some other band. Oasis? Puh-leeze. They're sub-Beatles. The Strokes? The Velvet Underground meets the Buzzcocks. We sound like the band Jesus would have had and nothing else.

Like any band, we had to start by playing covers of our influences. Josh (rhythm guitar, though sometimes the lying prick will tell girls he's lead guitar, as if) was really into the Edge a long time ago, but now he listens to mostly Clapton. So we worked "Sunday Bloody Sunday" into our repertoire. Nash, our bassist, has always been a big Rush man, so we had to play "Tom Sawyer," and since him and me both like the Zep, and I could do the shit out of a scream, we covered "Immigrant Song," too. We used to have a big fat drummer named Sticky Pete, too, and he made us do some Primus shit we weren't into, but we kicked his ass to the curb for a more photogenic dude on skins, Clint Warhawk. He's not an Indian, but fuck if you can tell that. And he's really into Guns 'N' Roses, so we added "Sweet Child O' Mine" to our latest set list.

I don't have to tell you guys, however, that the real test for a band is their original material, and nobody has the fucking original material we do. I write songs like John Lennon and Paul McCartney were locked in a fucking room with Kurt Cobain and Bob Dylan. You go into that room and maybe you find nothing but blood and entrails and a pile of pure genius songs, that's what it's like in my composition book where I compose.

Songs like "You Don't Bring Me Malt Liquor," "Tongue Death," "Fancy Fucking Girl," and "Trip on This Shit, You Cock" (an instrumental, but not because I couldn't think of lyrics) will go down into the rock history books next to "Eleanor Rigby," I guaran-fucking-tee you.

This may all seem like cocky boasting to those of you who haven't heard us yet, but I swear, Face Mask more than lives up to the expectations I give you. And anyone who doesn't believe me, and will be in the Richmond, Virginia area May 25 is welcome to come to Thomas Jefferson High School on prom night and see the future of rock 'n' roll, alive and kicking. We also do stage-diving.

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