No shit," promised American Airlines spokesperson Lindy Burger. "The pilot in question was out of his ever-loving mind. A fuckhead of galactic proportions. His inventive swearing was unfortunately mistaken for a Christian dogmatic rant."

American Airlines packaged the clarification of the incident with a passive-aggressive apology to any Christians who were stupid enough to mistake the pilot's announcements as endorsing any particular religion. Actually, the apology was about 75% aggressive and only 25% passive, judging by the wording and an elaborate passive-aggressive formula M.I.T. scientists worked out.

Burger, consenting to an interview in her office, as long as we kept the door open, explained it was American Airlines policy to allow pilots to swear in the cockpit. It was also possible she stressed such swearing is conditionally allowed providing they do not broadcast foul language over the speaker system, but this reporter was distracted by a woman saying "cockpit" and forgot to finish writing the quote.

"If it's requested," continued Burger, "American Airlines will release the fucking black box and let everybody get a whiff of Rodger's whack-ass ranting. That motherfucker can rattle them off like he has fucking Tourette's."

Burger also described the policy of hiring pilots who were former alcoholics which sometimes created uncomfortable social situations on the planes. According to Burger, alcoholic pilots with half a buzz on start calling around looking for Alcoholics Anonymous and come across American Airlines in the phonebook first, and management usually feels to sorry for them to turn them away when they show up. Plus, they think it will be funny. Pilots, once freshly on the wagon again, are shaved, showered, given a clean suit, and a job flying national and international flights.

Those who were on hand for the Feb. 7 incident accuse pilot Rodger K. Findiesen of asking the Christians on board the plane to "testify" to the power of Jesus Christ, their lord and savior. Many on the plane made claims to extreme discomfort and feeling singled out by a religious preference, while others felt it was distasteful and inappropriate.

Disagreeing with the assessment, Burger said, "Christian? Rodger? Shit, he can't even say it when he gets half a beer in him. No, more than likely what happened was he knocked back a few at home or made a stop by the drink cart on the way to the front of the plane and cut loose a little bit. Forgot his microphone was on, I bet. We had a similar incident in 1997 with him. Check it out."

Agreeing to check it out, this reporter screened a cassette tape from Burger's desk which she sometimes uses for training sessions or fun at college parties. On the tape, an apparently inebriated Findiesen talks either to the co-pilot, himself, or an invisible friend, including several verses of a song presumably titled "Lick My Salty Balls" set to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."

"Ack. Fuck the pissin' president. God, am I shit-hammered. Stretched all up on a fuckin' (inaudible)… that's the way. Take a fuckin' parachute and let this sumbitch crash right into a fuckin' mountain. D.B. Cooper woulda done it… (inaudible wailing)… Ah, Shelly, you fuckin' bitch, Jesus hanging on a crucifix, you done me wrong, bitch. I love you. Still love you, baby. Glory, glory, halle-fuckin'-lujah, still love you, baby… Man, I'd love to get a (inaudible) with a cow sometime. That's got to be…"

Stopping the tape, Burger assured that Findiesen would receive treatment for any possible problem with alcohol, and that he had indeed found someone after Shelly.

ister, Ohio passed an official ban on gay marriage Friday, making it one of the most swinging states for gay bachelors, but a real bummer for those seeking to settle down. More importantly, however, was the way Ohio Republicans backing the hate-filled measure put a really positive spin on the whole thing, calling it a positive reinforcement of marriage for children and families. Children and families, of course, still not allowed to marry each other.

Gov. Taft, not related at all to former fat president Taft, but certainly could stand to lose a few, signed the bill known among the ignorant as a "defense of marriage" act, following the lead of 37 other states to pass such acts. Ohio's is the nation's most stringent, stressing the refusal to recognize such marriages publicly and even denying unmarried partners of state employees, in heterosexual or homosexual relationships, the right to marital benefits.

Original provisions of the law were scaled back, including requiring anyone involved in a marriage had to love their partner, guaranteed fidelity and honesty between them, and punished with strong fines anyone entering into marriage under "dishonorable" pretenses, including premarital pregnancy, a drunken nuptial, or just doing it for a laugh. Lawmakers quickly recognized 98% of marriages in the state would become illegal and then simplified the measures of the bill.

Rev. Rutherford Haymaker supported the act in its initial stages, and like his colleagues, fears for the state of marriage without such laws in place.

"It's high time Ohio stepped up to the plate to define marriage for everybody out there," claimed a happy Haymaker, drinking a fifth of bourbon with this reporter in a bar of confused sexual origins. "Let's face it—marriage is about to fall apart in this country. Both the husband and wife get to work now, the children are all running 'round unsupervised, and they watch M-TV shows where men kiss other men and their sexuality gets all confused. I got statistics that say over half of the marriages today, the partners actually agreed to marry each other. That's crazy. If marriage isn't prearranged and conducted with improving family relations and passing down property to offspring, what the hell is it for? This is what happens when you kill all your kings and queens, all sorts of confusion erupts. They had a revolution in Russia and now I hear a man can marry a goat over there. It's blasphemous."

Other opponents of gay marriages were slightly more informed, like Ohio Republican Rep. Jim Stuckus.

"It's my sincere hope when the gays realize they can't get married, they'll see how futile it is to be gay and go back to being straight, like we're all supposed to be," Stuckus said. "We've all fantasized about being gay, and having intimate relations with someone else of the same sex in a Shoney's men's room. But eventually we all grow up and stop masturbating to weightlifting magazines and realize it's time to settle down, and we'll never have a viable political career if we head off to join some dance troupe with a guy named Trent."

Misty-eyed, Stuckus peered out the window and added, "Sweet, sweet Trent."

The Ohio bill passed in close quarters to a Massachusetts Supreme Court ruling allowing the constitutionality of gay marriage in that state. Some critics say the ruling is further proof New England has gone "all queer" lately, while others say it was just a drunken night of Supreme Court ruling following the Pats victory last Superbowl Sunday.

Goddammit! Another V-Day, come and gone.

According to nebulous website statistics, one in five Americans is single, but as we know, polls taken at pornographic sites are debatable. The truth is probably somewhere in between—all my neighbors are married or in serious relationships, yet nobody at the commune can maintain a significant other for more than a week. All I know is, if those estimates are anywhere near close, that leaves a lot of pissed off people who spent last Valentine's Day stewing in their homes.

Somehow another Valentine's Day passed and I survived, and more over, I didn't get drunk and call up any ex-girlfriends on the phone. Sure, I browsed the internet looking for the loneliest blogs I could find, just for company, then I searched for a while to see if anyone else remembered that show Tales of the Gold Monkey, but that isn't really on topic. What's important is I maintained some level of dignity by keeping my indignity within the walls of my apartment.

There are different arguments about Valentine's Day, I suppose. Some would say it's a soulless commercial enterprise driven by the almighty dollar to shill tiny greeting cards, flowers, chocolates, and chalk-flavored hearts; others are retarded, and disagree. These fucks are hopelessly whipped by whatever gender's genitalia they're dating.

Whoever first expressed the need for love, for one human being to find that special connection to another and build a lasting relationship with, is a total schmendrick. If he had been born in another era St. Valentine probably would have gone on to invent the dog whistle, another device with more espoused about it than proven. So what if a dog comes running when you blow it? Have you ever seen a dog that didn't come running to a person? They're stupid dogs. They see people and want to lick them, for whatever dog reason mandates.

Likewise, I say love is a myth. If I believed in the devil I would propose he started it as a way to complicate what could have been party city for sexual relationships in this world. You don't see animals exchanging phone numbers or discussing long-distance relationships. They know what they want and they don't confuse it with their self-esteem or worrying about how a partner reflects on them. It's not a coincidence either that animals don't suffer from broken hearts, depression, midlife crises, weight issues, or impotency—and I've seen enough websites to verify it.

I don't claim to be a genius; I may only be a seven-inch pixie with a surly attitude, but I can tell right from wrong. People who are not in relationships are miserable. People who are in relationships are miserable. If you're lucky enough to catch people during that brief period of ignorance when they think they are going to be in a relationship and find excitement in their partner and are fresh from loneliness enough so they dread going back to it, then you'll find them happy. The intelligence of dedicating your life to seeking out that one-to-two-week period in a life that lasts about 80 years, give or take cigarette consumption, it's not the brightest way to go.

Not that I have an alternative at this point. Or, I do have alternatives, but they usually end up with me getting drinks thrown in my face. I'm not advocating we drop the whole "love" deal right off the bat, but I say it wouldn't necessarily be a bad idea to re-evaluate the idea of monogamy. Elvis Costello asked what was so funny with peace, love, and understanding? That's a big question, with lots of possible answers. I'm only asking what's so wrong about paying money for sex a couple of times a month? Both you, the column reader, and the potential jurors out there I might be seeing next month.

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