he fat-walleted president George W. Bush embarked on a two-day road trip with his staff and advisors to promote a major revamp of the Social Security system, with stops in many western states to gather Republican and Democrat support for his latest plan: Solving the future Social Security problems with magic. With magic, Bush tells us, the problem of supporting a large non-working retired community with a small workforce paying taxes can be fixed, as a small amount of tax money is inexplicably transformed into "bunches."

The plan, first outlined in the State of the Union address, involves heavy investing in magic research, most specifically, figuring out how stage magicians can make a quarter become a dollar coin. Ideally, according to the president, the basic "science" of magic can be expanded until larger sums, such as billions of dollars, are doubled into money to preserve future Social Security benefits. The president's latest proposal replaces less feasible plans, such as just printing more money until we have all we need, or investing in "reliable" stocks and bonds.

"I'm not sure if magic really can be a viable solution to supporting Social Security benefits," said White House critic Rep. Hud Coker (D-Arkansas), "but at least he's not talking that 'privatization' bullshit anymore."

Bush took the lead in the Social Security argument by describing the system as being "in crisis" during his State of the Union speech, and then pushed the agenda further by loading into a van with his staff Friday for a support-building "road trip" to key states. On Friday, the president made stops at auditoriums and town halls, as well as "piss breaks" at gas stations and fast food restaurants, to speak on his hopes for magic as a resolution to the Social Security dilemma future generations will likely face.

"When the workforce is smaller than the community of retirees it supports, it's a big math problem," said the president, while eating from a small bag of Cheetos as he stood by the gas pump. "I'm not very good at math problems, but I know what it means when you need more money than you have. Then I remembered a birthday party I had a couple of years ago, where a magician made twenty-five cents into a dollar. That's what we need, I thought to myself. If this works—and let's face it, it's my best plan yet—it could solve more problems than just Social Security. Funding for perverted paintings and crap? Don't worry, we'll magicize it! And maybe you'll finally let us build missile defense systems and bombers without all the bellyachin'." Then an advisor reminded the president about his campaign promise to quit using the word "bellyachin'" to describe political opposition.

Many critics of the president, those knowledgeable in science and the laws of nature, bemoaned the difficulties of reproducing money through magic, but a few Democrats rallied behind the president's plan as a bipartisan solution to a hot-button old people issue. Ken "Amazing Kenny" Rublett, an unaccredited professor at Ithaca, New York's University of Magic & Illusion, spoke positively of the president's plan.

"I've been lobbying for the government to use magic and prestidigitation to solve national problems ever since Nixon's been president," said Professor Amazing Kenny. "Finally, someone is listening. I don't agree with the Iraq War and I've disagreed with the president's implementation of the Patriot Act, but magic can help us in ways not yet imagined. Have someone like Impresso the Clown put on a show at Guantanamo Bay, and ask for volunteers. When he does the Mystery Box, he can make any potential terrorists disappear—he doesn't have to bring them back. There. We've solved problem of due process without endangering the Constitution! Magic can solve anything!"

The cracker magician then made a ball of fire burst from his hands, at which point this reporter's aggressive instincts kicked in and unleashed a furious ass-whipping on the man.

n a Super Bowl showdown Sunday that few will soon forget, the New England Patriots forcibly sodomized the sickly Philadelphia Eagles, unless the underdog Philly squad pulled off a stunning upset against the clearly overrated Patriots. Results were not readily available as of press time.

“Patriots rule!� screamed a naked-yet-painted youth after the game, likely a Patriots fan.

“Definitely!� agreed a compatriot, more clothed but no less enthusiastic. “Unstoppable! Unless they cocked it up. In that case, they’re a gang of spineless suck monsters.�

“The Eagles are a bunch of dickless homos who aren’t fit to sniff my balls,� explained cocky New England quarterback Tom Brady after the game. “Unless they won. In that case, they were a heck of a tough squad and we played our best, but just didn’t come out on top today. We’ll get ‘em next year. Unless we don’t.�

The stunning Super Bowl victory was New England’s third in four years, a thrilling period of dominance for Patriots fans, unless it was a crushing disappointment and inspiring Cinderella story for the unlikely Eagles, who won their first Super Bowl since 1960 and brought a parade of dreams home to Philadelphia. Philly fans, known for their bitterly cynical dedication to disappointment, booed their team either way. Commentators remarked on not having seen this level of vitriol from sports fans since the last time the Special Olympics came to Philadelphia.

“The Eagles were clearly overmatched in this David and Goliath tale,� explained sports blowhard and former Oakland Raiders towel rack Marcus Parkum. “Unless, you know. Another way of looking at it is that Philly was clearly underrated, a ragtag bunch of plucky gamers that snatched the spoils of victory from the clutches of a Patriots squad grown fat and apathetic with the glory of their past successes. Either way, it was a Super Bowl. Unless it got cancelled.�

“Fuck! Fuck!� elaborated commune neighborhood bookie Fat Anthony. “Or, alternately: Allllll riiiiight! Ant’ny made some moolah tonight! Shit yeah!�

Sports fans nationwide were stunned by the Super Bowl’s outcome, unless the game went exactly as expected. Few could have anticipated, however, the stunning halftime show, which featured an unprecedented level of wit and subtlety, unless it was just a bunch of idiots dancing around in hot pants. Whatever happened, the career of Gloria Estefan will never be the same, unless it continues on exactly as it has for years.

Fans of either team have to agree that the game turned on a crucial play in the fourth quarter when Eagles receiver Terrell Owens either caught a miraculous 94-yard “Hail Mary� pass to score the game-winning touchdown, or else forgot to turn around at the last minute and got hit square in the ass with the ball, at which point he reportedly farted. Owens will likely never live down the fame or infamy stemming from this career-defining play.

In related news, TV jockeys were thrilled to witness a fresh slate of instant-classic Super Bowl commercials, making the game experience worthwhile for wives and gay men trapped in sports bars everywhere. Unless, of course, it was just more of the same retarded bullshit from Budweiser and Coca-Cola that we’ve been seeing for years.

I received an angry reader email this week, which for the first time in my life didn't involve Viagra, my Superbowl predictions, or a time share in the Balkans, so I thought I'd grant it some precious column time here. Concerned reader Munay Dubutu of the Bronx recently moved to these friendly shores from the decidedly unfriendly shores of Namibia, and is pissed off that his toilet water is spinning the wrong way. Though he has attempted to remedy this problem by purchasing a special spinning toilet, Munay finds the fact that his water now just goes straight down to be vaguely unsatisfying. How, Munay asks, has the government managed to control his water and where can he buy a gun? After I explained to Munay that guns are readily available on most New York street corners, I realized there were probably other poor, huddled mass-like readers out there wondering why water drains counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere, yet clockwise in the pagan Southern Hemisphere.

I'm glad somebody finally asked this question, because I'm sick as a dog of listening to well-meaning momos give the incorrect answer in bars and at science symposiums. The reason for the bathtub drain (or toilet, or record player for that matter) switcheroo is because the earth itself rotates counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere, and clockwise in the Southern. The government has kept this mostly a secret for years, to keep people from flocking to the equator to check this shit out in person. But it is nevertheless truthy. For this reason, crossing the equator has proved a dangerous proposition for travelers since the beginning of time, challenging daring souls to leap across the equator with the hope that they timed their jump well enough to end up in the part of the Southern Hemisphere they wanted to get to.

Since the earth rotates at 1,000 miles an hour in the Northern Hemisphere, and 1,200 mph in the Southern (slightly faster due to the bottom half of the earth being lighter), crossing the equator is similar to attempting to jump onto a train going 2,200 miles an hour, a daunting task in itself that has produced more than a few hobo pancakes. To make matters worse, timing your jump is always a bit of a roulette gamble, since entire countries are only lined up for a few minutes out of the day, plus you don't want to jump into some other-hemisphere-fleeing douchebag who's trying to jump across the opposite way at the same time. Coconut-sounding skull collisions and severely bruised egos often result, much to the glee of the audiences that gather at the most-popular equator crossings.

Complex systems have developed in equatorial nations to cope with Earth's geological quirk, including the brave mailmen who hand off letters and packages across the divide, often suffering decapitative papercuts and parcel burns in the process. And a special prayer must be said for the unlucky souls who live on one side of the equator and work on the other, making the dangerous commute twice daily. Few can forget the story of the Brazilian meter reader who was late to work one day and carelessly jumped across the equator into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Thankfully, someone in Indonesia was able to throw him a life preserver and a hot dog several minutes later, and some relatives with a hook grabbed him the next day. But others are not so lucky, leading to a booming casket and wall-scraping business in most equatorial towns.

This phenomena is especially challenging for ships at sea, since the unwary sailor can easily shipwreck on a beach that wasn't there a second ago, or sometimes even into downtown Singapore. Even when they do manage to time it right and hit the fat part of the ocean, ships still have to contend with the sudden 2,200 mph change in velocity and direction, which all throughout history has led to the kind of rollover fatalities the world wouldn't see again until the Suzuki Samurai. There's a very slim margin for error in crossing the equator in a boat: either you get the timing and angle just right and hold on for the 2,200 mph ride of your life, or you die very, very suddenly.

Even in the modern era, planes have difficulty compensating for the equatorial rotation shift. Say you're late taking off from Heathrow because some tit had an expired salami in his luggage, on a flight to Ecuador. You try to make up some time by cutting in line on the runway and burning your special reserve tank of Dave's Insanity Fuel, but still, by the time you get to where Ecuador should be, it's the Democratic Republic of Congo. Shit. Then your navigator's got to figure out the best way to get to Ecuador from the Congo, if you should just turn right or if it would be faster to hop back across the equator and fly the other way until Ecuador comes back around again. Then your navigator and your copilot get in an argument over which half is spinning which way that you have to settle by drawing a diagram and twirling your hands in opposite directions, which makes you nauseous and you crash in the Congo and are eaten by bush people. Government scientists believe this to have been the fate of most of the vessels lost in the famous "Bermuda Triangle."

Law enforcement is especially difficult near the equator, since villains on the run can always leap across the equator to safety, much like screen-side warp zones in Pac-Man. Unless the felon spends the next 24 hours sitting in that very spot gloating, or comes back the next day to show a friend exactly where he outsmarted the fuzz, the police are unlikely to ever see him again.

Television ratings, employment rates, and sporting event attendance are also especially poor near the equator, since people in equatorial towns spend most of their time sitting in lawn chairs, watching the world whiz by at incredible speeds, and pointing out people they recognize. Some have even developed friendships with "other-siders" over the years, in spite of the limitation of only being able to shout one word to each other every day, usually "Hi!"

Now you know why your toilet water spins the way it does. The only question that remains is why you spend so much time staring into the toilet. For that answer, I refer you to a licensed professional.

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