ollywood mourned the loss of another great couple this week, when super-hottie Shannon Elizabeth filed for divorce from the incredibly fortunate guy she married years ago. Citing "irreconcilable differences," not the awful Shelley Long movie, but the standard divorce patter for the sex life went to shit, the couple ended their three-year marriage, leaving Elizabeth to go back on the market and husband something Reitman to sink further into anonymity.

Elizabeth, most famous for her beautiful face and gravity-defying breasts, has appeared in two of the otherwise-insufferable American Pie movies and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, while husband Reitman, most famous for somehow bedding Playboy-quality ass despite having no real movie credits to his name, has appeared next to Elizabeth in a few photographs and not much else.

Some speculate trouble started on the set of Ashton Kutcher's M-TV show Punk'd, where trouble usually starts in Hollywood, when Reitman attempted to punk the brunette sexpot; but friends of the couple suggest the punking had been going on for months beforehand, and the couple spent more time by themselves than together, leading to the marriage's disintegration.

Elizabeth's pending divorce makes her available to enter the dating scene again, opening the door for relationships with attractive rock stars, hot Hollywood hunks, and even diminutive alternative news website reporters with charming vestigial wings.

The Shannon Elizabeth divorce from the formerly lucky fuck is only the latest in a string of super-hot celebrity babe news this week, including the deeper sinking of Katie Holmes into the world of science-fiction religion.

Fresher news also has Alias star Jennifer Garner wedding millionaire dope Ben Affleck in a secret Carribean wedding. Affleck, a renowned babe bagger with a track list including Gwyneth Paltrow and Jennifer Lopez, began dating Garner after his relationship with J-Lo flamed out, and he desperately wanted to find someone to fulfill the "nifer" part of his famed "Bennifer" moniker. The wedding comes as no surprise to hot chick watchers, as rumors have circulated for weeks that Garner may be pregnant with the seed of Affleck. Biologists, at least those of us who have a high school biology background, speculate the baby will either be a super-sexy spy or a really bad actor.

Also on the Ted Ted short list of fine asses to watch, Tomb Raider and sexual fantasy star Angelina Jolie was photographed with rich male hottie Brad Pitt, further fueling speculation the two were the source of friction that ended Pitt's marriage to Hollywood TV honey Jennifer Aniston.

On a sadder note, picky religious nutjobs found fault with sculpted super-beauty Jessica Simpson after the debut of Simpson's semen-inducing video for "These Boots Are Made for Walking," where Simpson is seen washing a car alá home video queen Paris Hilton's infamous Carl's Jr. commercial, in the guise of her Dukes of Hazzard role of Daisy Duke. The alarmed Baptists condemned the lovely jezebel as parading around all "slutty" and demanded she make a cleaner version of the video. Ted Ted, in response, demanded they burn in hell for ruining his good time.

In the meantime, Shannon Elizabeth asked for privacy during this very personal time, and could not be reached for response since this reporter did not have her number, no matter how desperately he keeps asking the publicist for it.

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So I'm sitting there, explaining to the sheriff about how if a pizza delivery dude leaves his car running in front of your house while he jets in to bring your gaywad neighbor a pizza, it's totally kosher to sprint out and take his car for a spin for a few days or whatever, when I shit you not, that Eric Clapton reggae song comes on the radio. Right there, in the car, while the cop is leaning in my window and his breath is stank like Thai food and I'm trying to remember if Grand Theft Auto is a felony or just some shit they made up for the video game.

I'm sitting there, explaining to this dude about civil disobedience and Johnny Tremaine and all that, and about the legal precedent of Roper vs. Furley in 1968 and whatever else I can skewer onto the bullshit-kabob I'm cooking up for the guy, when I start to think I may have broken on through to the other side because there's no way this song comes on right then. I didn't even know the radio station had that record, as far as I can tell all they've got is one each from AC/DC and Pink Floyd that they picked up at a yard sale somewhere and they keep playing them again and again like your annoying ten year-old neighbor kid.

But sure as that cop's breath smelled like a loose Chinaman's ass they were playing the goddamned Clapton song. I think I may have screamed, quietly, when it came on, though I'm not sure if the cop looked uncomfortable because of that or just because he doesn't like Clapton. Not that I'd blame him, you hear all about the police backlash when shit like "Fuck Tha Police" or "Cop Killer" comes out but nobody said a word when it was "I Shot the Sheriff," even though that's about as specific as you can get. I guess they don't take it seriously when it's a white guy singing the song. Or maybe most sheriffs are just pricks and the rest of the cops are just like "Right on."

Well, just my luck this guy actually is the sheriff, and I don't think he's a Clapton fan either. Not even when Clapton jammed with the Beatles and porked George Harrison's wife, and that's some pretty cold shit. I don't know what kind of music you're into if that doesn't do it for you; maybe he was a big fan of that Mexican polka shit that's always playing in the kitchen at restaurants. I guess somebody else has got to like that stuff, since it's not like a bunch of dishwashers own radio stations.

So I'm sitting there thinking this goddamned station just sank my battleship outright, since after I hit the water fountain I really only had the cop's good graces to bank on to avoid some kind of harsh retribution. I'm not sure what the penalty is for borrowing some random pizza guy's car and using it to practice your stunt driving, but I'm sure they'd at least make you walk home, which I wasn't too excited about.

All I can say is thank God I spent my childhood on up honing the ability to lie through my teeth. They had the pizza guy's license and registration, so I started going off about how I didn't look like the picture anymore because I'd had a sex change to become a woman, you know, because I thought it would be fun to have tits and stuff. But that hadn't worked out since then I couldn't sit out on my lawn with my shirt off anymore, so I got a sex change back, but they kind of fucked it up so when I shot out of the tube I didn't look the same as I had before. You think it's like the Sneetches in that one book, but it's actually much more complicated than that, yadda yadda yadda. Yeah, maybe it wasn't Shakespeare but it wasn't too bad considering the circumstances.

Actually I'm not sure if they believed my story at all, they might have just let me go because the deputy had to pee really bad. The way he was dancing around I thought he was excited to see how the story ended, which at the time I thought was pretty stupid since all he had to do was look around to see that it ended with a Fiesta covered in piñata fragments, half-submerged in a public fountain. So in retrospect I bet I was saved mainly by the length of my story and the size of the Big Gulp weighing down on the dude's bladder.

Which you know, isn't the most badass way to get away from the cops, since it didn't involve any Panamanian gun-runners or anything, but I'll take it. Bricks out.

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Recently a famous musician friend of mine who will remain anonymous, his first name Beck, asked me, "Yo, Griswald—the guitar. What the dillio?" From these utterances I constructed a crude sentence asking me the history of the guitar, and it's a good one. For centuries no instrument has been strummed more by drunken frat boys to woo underage poontang to a house party. It is America's instrument.

The basic design came from an instrument in the Dark Ages. The Dark Ages were so called namely because pretending you were smart would get your lights punched out by the unenlightened masses everywhere—it was like our modern-day Washington D.C., though the tie had yet to be created.

The original design is believed to be the creation of Johann Crunch, who later went on to invent a cereal while serving in the military. Crunch had kids that would not shut up, yet he found by pulling his wife's hair taut and plucking on it to make sounds he could lull them to sleep, and keep his wife in line. All this went in the crapper, however, when Crunch's wife died of a self-inflicted arrow wound. Not wanting to lose his ace in the hole with the kids, Crunch put her head on the end of a broom and tied the hair to the other end. This allowed him to create complicated chords with his left hand, like Gmaj7.

Upon his death, the guys who killed him made off with the strange instrument, which they called a lute, because they were uneducated and couldn't spell "loot" correctly. As one became more proficient with the lute, they formed the world's first modern band, though of course they could never find a reliable bass player.

The lute was mass-produced by monks, and the first design change was to start making it out of wood rather than maiden's skulls, a more cost-effective manner of production, and to use nylon and silk for the strings, for a more sensual plucking style.

The Dark Ages gave way to the Middle Ages, then a brief period called the So-So Ages, often unmentioned in history and a lot like our 1970s. As all this progressed, the lute became England's most popular instrument, and was also imported to Europe where it helped create primitive Goth Tech bands in Germany. By the time America had its independence from England and its natives, the lute had been extended and transformed into the guitar, so called just because lute sounded stupid. A modern descendant of the original Guitar family claims his six-times great-grandfather (though friends say he was only half as great as built up) is the one to have created the first guitar, because his long arms would get cramped trying to play "Love to Thee Maidens" on the lute and his frustrated picking style resulted in the frequent breaking of strings.

By the early twentieth century, the refinement process for steel had become so fluid they could make aluminum foil and guitar strings. Since they already made the strings, guitar players went ahead and decided to try putting steel strings on the guitar. Though they hurt like hell to play, the twangy-twang sound allowed the creation of country-western music, which is often referred to as "strike two" against steel strings.

In 1951, extremely bored with the Ozzie-&-Harriet world around him, musician Freddy Fender attempted to create the world's first electric guitar. It didn't necessarily sound like a good idea, but was part of Fender's ongoing attempt to make an electric everything. Though his electric shoes caused calluses and toe rot and his electric water balloons killed instantly, Fender had apparently found his niche and lodged himself quickly inside it with the electric guitar. He made a fortune selling pickups and amplifiers alone. He also opened the door to Peter Frampton and other musicians who couldn't play a regular guitar to any degree of interest.

Today, you'll find an unplayed guitar in nearly every closet across this great nation, and it's no secret why. I put them there.

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