recent discovery of ancient heiroglyphics in Egypt describing a military victory by the legendary Scorpion King, and believed to be the oldest on record at approximately 5,250 years, has been relegated to runner-up status by a team of archaeologists working for the last four years in this southwest Asian spot where the Tigris joins the Euphrates. The team revealed yesterday that they have uncovered an ancient wall inscribed with primitive cuneiform marks that date back nearly 6000 years, or from about the year 4000 BC.

"We're very excited about this," said team leader Dr. Robert R. "Bob Bob" Clemons. "We've said all along that this is the cradle of modern, recorded civilization, right here, not that wasteland along the Nile. Those Egyptologist bitches can kiss my dusty brown ass, along with the dusty brown asses of every single one of my fellow researchers!"

The marks that had Dr. Clemons crowing like a jaybird and dancing about so excitedly appeared to be no more than a series of triangles and inverted vees, but their significance was made clear by the buzz that rippled through the international press corps that gathered to report the news.

"You can see right here," Dr. Clemons pointed out, gesturing to a series of isoceles triangles, "that there was definite gang activity going on in the area back in those ancient times. This line, for example, reads 'Sargon II is down with Nebuchadnezzer.' And over here, we have a reference to the 'Euphrates Mob,' a rival gang to the prominent 'Hanging Garden Boys' that dominated the banks of the Tigris."

Other cuneiform scratchings were translated as being gang slogans such as "Zoroastrians rule," "Medes are skanky bitches" and "Sumer Power – we the best, fuck the rest." There were also long listings of gang members' names, such as "Smiley," "Johnny Boxer," "Li'l Puppet," "Droopy," "Seymour" and "Jehosaphat."

When asked t o comment further on the translations and their significance, Dr. Clemons simply said, "Maybe some other time period, honey. Ha! That's an archaeological joke. No, but seriously, I've got a bottle of newly-unearthed 3000 year old wine waiting for me back at my tent. I'd hate to see it spoil." Though the remaining members of the press clamored for more information, all they got was a glimpse of Dr. Clemons' dusty brown ass disappearing into a complex of dark linen stretched between poles on the edge of the dig. He was seen carrying a large wheel of cheese, an earthen jar and some dates, and was leading a goat on a rope.

urprised by the waning media interest in the Bonny Lee Bakley murder case, the Blake prosecution team named young actor Christian Slater as a co-defendant in the case. As the prosecution's murder theory now stands, Blake murdered his wife in front of the Vitello's restaurant and Slater co-conspired in the plot and drove the getaway car.

The move has been seen by some to attract attention to a case that sounds pretty ho-hum in the modern media age. The Blake case, while garnering some media spotlight, has failed to attract the attention of the infamous O.J. Simpson case, lacking in comparison in brutality and sheer star power.

Slater, whose own career has slipped from attention in recent years, welcomed the prosecution, with a firm promise he and Blake will beat the charges.

"C'mon, we're famous!" he shouted at a press conference. "We'll be out in time to guest star on the Ally McBeal finale. Or, failing that, Fox Celebrity Boxing."

The prosecution announced at the same time it was dropping conspiracy charges against Robert Blake's bodyguard Earle Caldwell, saying he "just didn't appeal as strongly to the 18-35 age group as Slater."

"We thought of many possibilities," said prosecution team member Rad Harmscull. "Our first thought was Peter Falk, but we figured people might have trouble figuring out which is which. Todd Bridges was another possibility, but he had his day in criminal court for murder and we all yawned and let him go. This time I think we've got a can't-lose case for international media buzz."

However, Blake counsel Harland Braun was less pleased about the move.

"It's ridiculous media manipulation by the prosecution," said Braun. "Mr. Blake is not afraid to have his day in court over this matter, but we're not going to share it with some kid from Young Guns 2. Not to mention it makes no sense. They don't even know each other. Why not longtime Blake friend talk show host Tom Snyder or something? This is plainly a media-oriented move by the prosecution."

If the co-defendant prosecution ignites sparks in media interest, there are already rumors abounding about bringing in former Wiseguy star Ken Wahl on a conspiracy to destroy evidence charge. And if that move is successful, Wahl could receive his own spin-off murder trial, depending on the focus group's look at the evidence.

"I think we're doing very well now," Harmscull said. "We took a so-so case and have possibly made it into the trial of the century. This century, and even bigger than the trial of last century. Sure, we may not win as all the facts don't line up meticulously. But while we could've had a victory and execution before, killed some little rascal for some humdrum crime no one cared about… now we've created a lasting piece of criminal justice. This is the trial to which all others will be compared. And if it takes off, we promise there will be others."

Good people, whatever I said last week, optimistic it up by about 200%. I am feeling much, much better. Maybe it's the smell of fresh cauliflower cooking on Camembert's stove, maybe it's the neighbors and their loud enunciation of Shakespearian dialogue through the walls. Or maybe it's the fact my disruptive energy has crashed into a train of good vibes, as Lee says, and that's what I'm leaning toward.

Lee has yet to be wrong about things like this. It's Lee's opinion that somewhere along the line, in the past year, I've had a burp of negative karma that has totally blemished my natural green. Why? Quit asking me. Ask Lee. He's the genius that knows all of this stuff.

I just asked Lee and he said he's not quite sure, it could be any number of things. Most likely it revolves around my moving my office into the commune headquarters, where as before I worked out of my Dodge parked in front of my house. That was just to be a temporary solution until I could build an addition onto the house, then the addition I built would not stand up and frequently collapsed on me and the cat. I decided it was either hire a professional builder of additions or move into the commune offices, so I did the latter.

And there was the problem. So Lee says. There is a vortex of anti-vurga here that affects some people the wrong way. Namely me and Lee. I'm not quite sure what vurga is or what it's for, but Lee assures me he had not made it up and it exists, and mine is being scratched, picked at, violated, and rubbed raw by the anti-vurga vortex I spoke of before. Well, I don't need to hear any more. As soon as possible I'm moving out of the commune offices and making an office at home.

It will be difficult, I'm sure, saying Camembert and my apartment is too small is an understatement, an understatement so large it will not fit in our miniscule apartment. I could not even squeeze it into the space between my bed and the radiator that frequently sets the bed on fire. But what else can I do? Bagel and company won't shell out the money to buy me space across town, they've already tried to sell my space on numerous occasions to tourists. I'll have to make room in the apartment, according to Lee.

Lee suggests that with a matter of such urgency I can afford to make space in the apartment. He said I should diagram the entire apartment on a piece of paper and sort out what can be moved where, and I should do it as soon as I get home. But he won't help, he has meditation this afternoon and doesn't want to get riled up.

Frankly, I don't see what I'm supposed to move and where I should move what I move. There's my bed, my television set-up, my grand piano, my standing closets, my sitting closets I usually refer to as drawers, my portable bathtub, the game of Twister—it's been out so long I'm certainly not going to put it away now, I'll just want to play again tomorrow—and the vaulting horse. Not to mention my workout space. A finely-planned house of cards it all is, I move one piece and everything tumbles down. I definitely cannot fit a desk, computer, and second workout space into my room.

Camembert's room! Of course, why didn't I think of it before I sat down and wrote all the above out? I'll simply annex Camembert's room and make it my office. It might be hard to convince Camembert at first, but he'll come around. I'll put a positive spin on it, that's what Lee always suggests. People are suckers for positive spins, he told me right after borrowing the money for that ass-reduction surgery that was so vital to his five-year plan.

Camembert will be more than happy to give up his room once Lee explains it. He loves Lee living on our couch so far, I heard him telling Lee so yesterday. As it is Camembert's room is a bulky waste of wheelchair rolling space, safety rails and bars and Camembert's personal effects. I can make his bed into a bunkbed and everyone will be happier, it will be like camping. As long as I get the bottom bed for I don't have to roll out of bed and land on that dangerous wheelchair at three in the morning.

I'm starting to look forward to this. Lee's right, a positive spin makes any disaster seem much more tolerable.

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