ith the rousing success of their recent surprise duet at the Super Bowl, entertainers Terry Bradshaw and Sir Paul McCartney have announced that they are going on tour together soon, and will play major stadium and arena dates in selected cities across America. McCartney, former front man for the band Wings and alleged ex-Beatle, was quoted as saying that he "very much enjoyed Terry's fresh approach to lyrics. He plays fast and loose with the words, and I like that."

The response to the pairing of Bradshaw and McCartney for an impromptu version of "A Hard Day's Night" during the Super Bowl halftime activities was nothing less than overwhelming. The phone lines at Fox were lit up for virtually the entire second half of the game with viewers asking where they might be able to purchase a copy of the song as sung by the two well known personalities. The ragged vocals and fractured lyrics caused many of those inquiring to ask about "that punk-rock song about the hard day's dog" the two had sung. Callers were told that, unfortunately, there was no recorded version available at that time. Spokesmen for both McCartney and Bradshaw hinted that they may spend some time in the studio together soon to rectify that situation, however.

"The other thing I like about this arrangement," said McCartney, "is that, ever since Linda died, I've been looking for someone to sing backup on 'Hey Jude' like she did. Up until now, I hadn't met anyone who had that kind of vocal range and musical intuitiveness that she had. But Terry's 'nah nah nah naaah's' have that certain je ne sais quois that I've been looking for."

Asked for further comment, Bradshaw responded excitedly in a language that was completely unintelligible, waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. His eyebrows shot up and down his tall forehead, his eyes bugged completely out and his tongue seemed to take on a life of its own as it rolled and flopped around in and out of his mouth. "Blah-dah boogah wah wah wah! Hibbidy dibbidy woogah! Manalanna frack!" Bradshaw apparently said.

riminals are usually the last ones to be on the front of a trend-setting movement, being sheltered away in their underworld subculture or prison. But the hippest of hip are entirely accused criminals, and most have latched on to a new fad—invoking the Fifth Amendment.

Popularized by the wave of Enron and Arthur Andersen officials taking the Fifth in front of the current Congressional probe, "Fifthing"—as those in the know are calling it now—has become the fashionable way to respond to charges. Fifthing has long been the preferred manner of defense for white collar suspects and political figures undergoing questioning, but lately it's extending far beyond.

"Nearly 30 of our suspects in questioning have taken the Fifth Amendment this week," said New York City police sergeant Michael Rosen. "Ranging from domestic abuse cases to drug trafficking and murder suspects. It's a popular defense right now."

"I am invoking my Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination," said alleged murderer Ricky "Bollweevil" Hines to three detectives questioning him. Hines was found with a bloody axe in the apartment of a hooker, who was found dismembered and clearly labeled by body parts in her own freezer. Charged with the murder, Hines appeared disappointed and could only shake his head, adding, "I hope that after making the agonizing decision to take the Fifth, it doesn't appear to others like I am guilty of the crime I've been accused of."

"The Fifth Amendment is there to protect the innocent man against self-incrimination," said accused shoplifter Boot Martin. "Perhaps a few weeks ago I would have reacted differently to the charges against me, but after much soul-searching and consideration, I am taking the advice of counsel and Fifthing—I mean, invoking my rights according to the Constitution. I will not incriminate myself. Let the eyewitnesses and that lousy videotape do it."

"It really doesn't change much," said Law Professor Dershall Alanowitz. "Either you confess or you plead not guilty. Most of the time the accused doesn't elect to take the stand against themselves or anything, no surprise there. Kenneth Lay just took an old hat and gave it a cool new feather."

Much of the buzz surrounding the Fifth Amendment comes from the Enron hearings and the parade of Enron officials, most notably former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay, who all took the Fifth rather than answer questions from senators on the committee. Lay, once finished delivering a practiced speech declining to answer questions and announcing he'd invoke the Fifth Amendment, was then subject to harsh insults and jibes by the Congressional Committee. Sen. Ernest Hollings (D., South Carolina) implied Lay's tie was purchased cheap at a K-Mart sidewalk sale. While Sen. John McCain (R., Arizona) stated Lay should be tried for crimes against humanity for his shoes alone.

Like most fads, criminologists and law experts believe it will pass quickly.

"Before too long," said Professor Alanowitz, "criminals will be back to confessing and telling their stories at length, for movies of the week and hot tell-all books. And Fifthing will be as out of date as Ken Lay's suit. Did you see that number? Ike called, he wants his burial wear back."

Seems like we spent our entire childhoods preparing for things that never happened. How many hours did we waste watching filmstrips on not accepting rides from strangers, or classics like "Don't Play with Rover Foamymouth" that taught us the virtues of staying the hell away from dogs with rabies? How many sleepless nights spent worrying about total global annihilation from a nuclear war with the Russians? By that I mean other kids staying up all night worrying about nuclear death, God knows Omar Bricks didn't lose any shuteye over foreign policy issues. I was way too wrapped up in my plans to order a money printing press from an ad I saw in the back of a Casper comic book. I schemed for a year to get that damn money-mill, and then it finally came in the mail and it turns out the friggin' thing prints toy money! I shit you not, ten-dollar bills with a picture of a walrus on them. I could have shit, I was so mad. I might have. Gone were my dreams of printing up enough currency to buy every toy in the store and to build a functioning car out of Legos, with which to drive to Sea World. I'd have to wait until Christmas (and 1995, alternately) like all of the other kids, like a shmoe.

I guess every little kid had to have some major disillusionment when they were young, like having their parents die or ordering Sea Monkeys. I'm sure you know the drill: ad in the back of your comic book looks awesome and makes you think you're getting a clan of human-sized merpeople in the mail, and that in no time you'll be frolicking in their underwater kingdom and cutting deals to have the Sea Monkeys blow up your school and stuff your Social Studies teacher into a steamer trunk headed for the Dutch East Indies. Then of course the package comes in the mail and it's an ant farm and a packet of dust. Since you're a kid and therefore gullible as a mail-order bride, you follow the instructions, add water, and hold your breath to see if this chintzy crap will somehow transform into the awesome experience you've been envisioning. Instead, it ends up looking like that Watersquirtz ring-toss game you've had since you were five, the one that got all leaky and mildewy after it spent a few years at the bottom of your toybox. It dawns on you then that the only way you could use these "Sea Monkeys" to get back at your Social Studies teacher would be if you put them in her coffee. So you get mad, and stay that way for the better part of seven minutes until you realize that you're missing the beginning of Diff'rent Strokes, and it's the one where Willis tries to grow a goatee.

That's what I hear anyway, I never ordered the Sea Monkeys myself. My dad had ordered them when he was a kid and his bitter diatribes convinced me that they probably weren't worth the eight bucks. For that same reason we never got to go to Sea World, since there was no way dad was going to shell out his hard-earned money to see a bunch of water fleas swim around in a tank.

Thank Moses I had my dad to impart these pearls of wisdom on my young mind, since school definitely wasn't doing it. They were far too concerned that we were going to get kidnapped from the school parking lot or bitten by a stray dog if we somehow managed not to get nuked while doing drugs. Of course none of it ever happened, and we all survived (except for Tommy Frink, who peed in the sink and later ended up becoming a Scientologist). What the suits didn't understand was that there were far too many Transformers to collect for any of us to blow our allowances on crack pipes. Of course I may be a bad one to ask since I flunked out of the DARE program at the tender age of eight. I passed out when the officers were showing us how to tie off and locate a vein, so during the graduation ceremony I had to sit off to the side with the kid who'd had Mono the whole time.

Seems like they could have been showing us filmstrips on something useful, like not answering cell phones in movie theaters or what to do if the guy next to you on the plane is wearing a diaper made of plastic explosives. I'm pretty sure I know the proper position to be in when you're obliterated by a mushroom cloud, but search me for how you're supposed to disarm a pimply reject in a Korn shirt with an Uzi. Or even etiquette things like the polite ways to turn down a request to join a cult. That would come in handy. And karate. They definitely should have taught us karate.

But, you know, life goes on and some things you just have to learn for yourself. For everything else, I've been thinking about correspondence colleges.

Yeah. I should definitely open one!

Bricks out.

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