ensions in the country are great in recent weeks, and everyone is going to great lengths to alleviate those tensions. Work helps some, planning for tough times makes others feel secure; then, there's America's stoners, who turn to alternative stress relieving systems during times of trouble.

"American pharmacological enthusiasts are as stressed out as anyone," said journalist J.D. Weber. "The economy is as bad as it gets, war with Iraq is becoming inevitable, and there's tremendous fear of some kind of terrorist attack. Now, more than ever, relief is needed. Primo relief."

Weber is one of the reporters working on a special edition of High Times magazine announcing a status of "Extremely High" Alert, expected to come out in March, assuming the staff doesn't flake on getting the layout to the printers in time.

"It's a revolutionary political stance for stoner culture, and High Times magazine by extension, which is the periodical of choice for that culture," stated Weber, very slowly. "High Times has taken political stances before, but this is bigger than the legalization argument. Unless politicians in turn ask us if we think it should be legalized, because we still stand for that. But our worldview is bigger now. These are hard times, and we need hard solutions, big, overflowing plastic bags of hard solutions."

Accompanying the article, High Times will be introducing a color-coded "Buzz-Killer" chart. Included on the chart will be colors correlated to the intensity of the threat the country is currently experiencing, as well as a number of hand-rolled cigarettes depicted that increase in number depending on the severity of the bring-down.

The first level, green, means that everything's copasetic. Engage in what you will, when you will, at your own discretion.

The second level, blue, means bummer. Increased intake of mood enhancers is encouraged, but never take more than you can handle. Exceeding normal dosages is not cool, dude.

The second level, yellow, means whoa, whoa, whoa, let's chill out. It's a good time to experiment with new, better-grade stuff. South America will be called upon to increase production and hopefully we can all just relax, no big deal, cool?

The third level, the current level, is "extremely high," and the color is yellow. At this time getting as much as you can and keeping a steady flow of easiness coming in is highly recommended. Hoarding, at long last, is cool. Even squares who usually get high on life are encouraged to experiment to forget their troubles.

After that, the highest color is red, and no contingency plan has been developed for that, but insiders are saying if that time comes and you have your hands on some hard stuff, indulge like the sky's falling, motherfucker.

Another color, purple, represents "narc." It is the only condition where even minor usage is highly discouraged. Before the condition passes, it should be ascertained that everyone in your company is cool. All possessions should be carefully hidden out of sight as long as the condition is in effect.

Before the interview with Weber could be concluded, this reporter was informed the condition had changed suddenly to purple without warning, and it would likely stay in effect as long as I was present in the room.

he humiliation continues for human chess king Garry Kasparov this week, who lost Friday's game after continually tying computer chess master Deep Junior, a disappointing end to the "Man Vs. Machine" chess series, 16-year-old D&D enthusiast Ronald Wolsey stepped forward Saturday to reveal he had been playing for the computer.

"My conscience has forced me to announce that I have been playing the 'Deep Junior' side of the recent chess matches," Wolsey stated in a written e-mail containing numerous spelling errors. "The deceit was not intended at first, but I wish I had gone public with the truth sooner. I will surely loose some character points for this subterfuge."

Match observers speculate Deep Junior creators at IBM worried about the computer losing and proving inferior to its predecessor Deep Blue after the first game, which Kasparov dominated and judged to offer a draw rather than pursue it to a possible loss. The idea likely occurred to route the chess-playing program of Deep Blue through to the newer model, the original computer that beat Kasparov in 1997 and now owned by chess master Karl Wolsey.

The plot was estimated that with Wolsey's help and an Internet connection, Deep Blue would best Kasparov again and demonstrate the computer's superiority. However, the wrong computer was connected to the match and Karl Wolsey's son Ronald, a Dungeons & Dragon fanatic and occasional chess player, matched the world's greatest chess mind move for move.

Until Friday afternoon, when the junior Wolsey put Kasparov in check with his knight in 43 moves.

Upon the surprising move, Kasparov flipped up the chess board and swore in Russian to the effect of, "I don't believe this bullshit!" When told of the true identity of the computer, the sport's leading player insisted Ronald Wolsey is a future chess genius in the making. Wolsey, who is repeating the tenth grade and has recently flunked his driver's test, would neither confirm nor deny the assessment.

"Chess is fun," said Wolsey, popping a zit near the corner of his eye, "but I have more important things on my mind. In addition to my growing cleric character, I plan on introducing a new wizard character later this year, the first time I've used multiple characters since moving to Advanced D&D. If things are looking better around summer—i.e., I get my license and dad gets off my back—I'm considering writing my own adventure and being GM for it."

Though chess aficionados are calling for a re-match, face to face, between Kasparov and Wolsey, the young opponent is somewhat agoraphobic and says he would not feel comfortable in front of the large audience of 10 or 12 that would come to watch. In addition, Wolsey doubts his chess ability would be at its peak if there were girls in the room.

Modern mysteries come in all shapes and sizes, from the five-toed horny gorilla to the location of the island where they breed reality show contestants. But some of the most vexing mysteries of all come in the blandest of blandishments. Sometimes they slip under our radar in plastic-windowed envelopes, without any kind of Unsolved Mysteries theme music alerting us to their mysterious presence.

The only thing harder to read than an epileptic doing sign language or Spanish scribbled on a men's room wall is the modern cell phone bill. We live in a society where experts can catch a killer based on the velocity at which the blood hit the beanie baby display case, but there doesn't seem to be a person on the planet who can tell you what the fruity hell is going on with your phone bill. We have scholars who can read hieroglyphics, cave drawings and the handwriting in hip-hop album liner notes, but even they throw up their hands in disgust when you ask them what a Cross-Promotional Technolocality fee is or why you're being charged for Atmospheric Carbon Dioxide Removal. And this isn't only because you called them up at home in the middle of the night from a bar and they couldn't hear your question over the Phil Collins blaring in the background. They just don't know.

However, all that is unknown may not be unknowable. It may just be that no one has ever had the balls to rip the phony rubber Richard Nixon mask off the truth. And believe you me, there is truth behind the cowardly jargon that clogs your phone bill like Cher's decapitated head stuck in a toilet. Icky truth.

Phone bill jargon is all about telecommunications companies needing to give you a "deal" to get your business, but being genetically incapable of actually giving you a deal. If they actually managed to give you a bargain, their fat-cat golfing buddies would never let them hear the end of it, and might actually call into question whether they're really white or actually a member of some deceptively near-white-looking minority group. That, and they're greedy as fuck. So you can rule out not being bent over the barrel by the phone companies, that's just a fact of life.

However, everybody likes to feel like they're getting a bargain, so the phone companies developed a clever ploy to lower their rates while actually raising their rates. They gradually shifted more and more of their expenses into itemized fees and taxes that aren't included in your standard rate. So now your cell phone plan is only $40 a month instead of $60, but they're charging you $22 in made-up fees and official-sounding taxes on the back end of the bill. Washington capitulated because they liked the sound of the word and wanted to put "capitulating" on their résumés.

So now you open your cell phone bill and it's like you let a bunch of greedy leprechauns loose who are running around and grabbing whatever they can get their dirty little mitts on. There's one called the Federal Programs Cost Recovery Fee. This is to reimburse the phone companies for all the money they spent lobbying to get all of these fees and taxes okayed by the bureaucrats. Another is called the Universal Connectivity Fee, which is universal because everyone has to pay it, and it covers the cost of the phone company making sure everything is plugged in.

Telephone Number Pooling fees cover the cost of phone company employees picking out phone numbers that spell embarrassing words on the keypad when they're supposed to be working. Wireless Number Portability is a fee to offset the money phone companies are losing to cell phones, while the Audible Proximity fee is to offset the money cell phones are losing to people being in the same room and talking.

Enhanced 911 is a feature that plays a little animation of a guy getting carjacked next to a funny cartoon policeman sleeping in his cruiser with little Z's coming out of his head while you're waiting for 911 to connect you with a dispatcher. The Relay Service and Communication Devices Fund covers the cost of connecting calls to land-based phones, while the Telecommunications Relay Service Surcharge connects you to phones shaped like footballs and other novelty items.

The Universal Service Fund Surcharge is a fee paid to Universal Studios to recoup their losses from people who are talking on their cell phones so much they're not scared by the big jumping shark on the tram ride. The Federal Exercise Tax is meant to recoup the strain on the health care system caused by you talking on your cell phone instead of exercising.

The so-called State Regulatory Fee is also known at the Don Knotts Surcharge, which guarantees that you will never, ever, be telephoned by Don Knotts at any time. The FCC Access Charge covers lawsuits against the phone company brought by people who've had movies, meals, sporting events, urinations, wedding vows and evening commutes ruined by some idiot yakking on his cell phone.

Last but certainly not least, the Trans-Continental Deactivation fee is the charge for them to pull their dick out of your ass after they're done fucking you.

Likewise, you're taxed by the states, counties, cities, and special taxing districts you're calling to and from, and by Burt Shyman from Oak Grove, CT, who invented the dropped call. And you're also paying to not have your phone number listed in Serial Killer Magazine, and for the expenses incurred by the phone company while they're selling your phone number to every disabled reindeer charity, opinion survey group and credit card company in the nation.

The deeper you probe into this mystery, the murkier it becomes, kind of like Ronald Reagan's brain. Stare too long and you may come away cross-eyed, or sterile. One thing is clear, however: If it's not cell phone radiation giving us these brain tumors, it's the bills.

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