espite the protests of investors who fear for their own financial safety, Federal authorities tagged and released Housewifing guru Martha Stewart into the wild last Friday, returning the mogul to her natural environment in hopes of learning from her behavior outside captivity.

Federal marshals were on high alert this weekend as the news broke that the TV personality and famously nice lady had been released. Early reports that Stewart had escaped from her West Virginia prison, bribing her captors with microwave caramel apples and slipping out through a shit drain in the fashionably late hours Thursday night, later proved to be erroneous. Stewart, thought to be either foraging in the wild or sitting with her feet up in her Bedford, New York home, eating lightly salted edamane soy beans, is considered fashionably dressed and not particularly dangerous.

“Aaagh!� screamed part-time stock investor Harold Oldman, perhaps overreacting to the news. “We’re all going to die!�

Recent retiree and investment dabbler Maya Coolidge expressed a similar sentiment from a crack between the several wooden pallets she had stacked in front of her front door for protection. “I don’t feel safe in my own home!� shouted Coolidge through the muffle of plywood. Either that or “Adam feet saving moan hole!� which this reporter preferred, but the copy desk found less likely.

Coolidge might also have yelled “Radon eels chafe gin eyes! Phone Rome!� or “Idle fleece have fins, mayo gnome!� regardless of what those commune knobs, who weren’t even there, have to say about it.

Many loudmouthed observers believe that Stewart served too short a prison sentence for doing some kind of naughty stocky thing that few understand. But wildlife experts disagree, citing the scientific benefits of West Virginia’s “catch and release� program.

“We’re not learning anything from Martha being in prison,� explained science redneck Tick Douglas. “Except that she doesn’t like Jell-o, but will eat it if force-fed by giant lesbians. But in the wild, in her natural habitat…� Douglas’ eyes glazed over in a drifting, far-away stare. “Humanity could benefit forever from what we learn.�

Snippy observers have christened Stewart’s new earlobe tracking tag “tack-zilla, girlfriend� but Stewart herself has been silent about the seemingly-undignified accessory. Many believe this is because Stewart plans to start a new fashion craze by selling knock-off ear tags as part of her Martha Stewart Everyday line available at K-Mart stores, and the elementary schools that were until a few months ago K-Mart stores, nationwide.

oming hot on the heels of February’s “Black History Month� bacchanalia, the U.S. government threw a surprising ceremony last week commemorating March as “Black Histrionics Month,� celebrating the overly dramatic and frenetic behavior famous to the black stereotype. American actor Cuba Gooding Jr. was tapped to inaugurate the memorial month, in a nod to his lifelong efforts to keep the stereotype alive.

“You know you want to hear it! Show me the money! Show ME the MO-NEY!� Gooding screamed to the assembled crown, before turning three consecutive backflips and tearing off his shirt. Gooding thrilled whites everywhere with his comfortably overblown black antics.

Before he could be shouted off the stage by self-respecting blacks who for some reason decided to attend the ceremony/travesty, Gooding Jr. ran through a terrifying recap of the last 50 years of black movie stereo types, leaving the audience either horrified or hilarified, depending on the color of their skin.

“Lordse, we got to have a doctor! I don’t know nothin ‘bout birthin’ babies!� clowned Gooding, simultaneously over the top and under the bottom. “Bitch! I will kick the bulimia outta yo’ ass!�

The well-publicized ceremony has also drawn unwanted attention from Latinos, the country’s largest minority group, who are upset that they don’t have their own month. When asked about this discrepancy during a recent interview, President Bush was clever.

“No Latino History Month?� asked Bush thoughtfully. “Why, that’s because every month is Latino History Month!� The president smiled slyly, impressed by his own deft maneuvering.

Prominent Latino leaders, however, find such statements to be caca.

“We want our own history month,� explained Latino community leader Hector Villanova. “And not some bullshit that’s all about the Alamo, either. We’re not falling for that again.�

The attention drawn to the new black month two-for-one has caused America’s racial shit to hit the fan at a high rate of speed as a dizzying array of other races have demanded their own months. Early reports indicate that some pushy races have even demanded two months, in order to even the playing field in the impending race race. Asians, Norwegians, East Indians and even the Irish have all chimed in with their hunger to make sure the black man doesn’t have anything special for himself.

Native American groups, on the other hand, have taken the high road, explaining that they’d rather take a pass on reliving their history and would be satisfied with having the whole of Las Vegas declared a multi-tribal reservation.

In all the other hubbub since the year began, I may have forgotten to mention my old bassist roommate Lee returned. He arrived shortly after Christmas, when his plan to storm Tokyo with techno rock failed miserably. It's okay, though, because he has started a Christian rock band. It makes sense, if you think about it, since he believed he died in the car accident years ago and is now reincarnated as a street preacher.

Surely you don't expect me to mention every minute detail that happens in my life, so sorry if some of this stuff comes as a surprise. I had originally planned this column, in fact, to be an update of how the X-M radio purchase was going when Camembert suggested I write about Lee to my "loyal reader." Camembert thinks that's funny. Ever since he started dating Girl Elvis he thinks he's a hoot, there's no other word for it.

Back to the Lee story, good people. Lee is back, yes, and he believes he's a street preacher, out to promote the gospel, yes, all this is true. And as I said, he's started a Christian rock band which operates out of my basement. I'm obviously too busy trying to make my A.M. radio station profitable to consider all of this too seriously, but apparently it makes Lee happy.

I wish I could say Lee has been easier to live with since coming back, but it's not the case. You may recall old Lee was something of a pain in the posterior, constantly making fun of me, never paying his portion of the rent, and spending most of the day high. It's more of the same now, except he has sworn off drugs, he's too polite for everybody's taste, and he's convinced we're all damned to hell for our behavior. Same ol' Lee, except for he's mostly different.

It may hardly be worth mentioning, I can no longer tell, but Lee has developed an unhealthy fascination with TV's Scott Baio as well. Ever since finding out he was a kind gentlemen with conservative politics, Lee has thought him quite a role model to adopt. And of course, for Lee, that kind of thing naturally leads to obsession and death threats, the usual circumstance in life where you become convinced you're the celebrity and the celebrity himself is an impostor taking your place—we've all been there, I tell Lee, but just because Carroll O'Connor won't take your calls doesn't mean it's your mission mandated by God to kill him. Lighten up, fella, I tell him.

In one ear and out the other, with new Lee. Old Lee at least would have lit himself some doobage and "chilled" for a while, realized he was perhaps getting ramped up about something silly. But new Lee wants to move forward with the "kill Chachi" plan immediately. Honestly, Lee, nobody has time for all this nonsense. I've got X-M radio options to consider, those take up more than half my week alone. Then there's running the radio station, not to mention the five minutes it takes me to write my commune columns for the next two months. If you're jumping out of the closet and dry-clicking your gun every ten minutes, shouting, "Now who's in charge, Charles?" a man will never get anything done.

My first instinct is to ask Lee to move out, but you know as well as I do, I'm not capable of that kind of cruelty. Except for to Camembert. Maybe Girl Elvis can be persuaded to do it for us, she's never thought much of him, I can tell that much. She's already threatened to call the police on him, but I tell her his band's cover of "In the Ghetto" may be bad, but it's hardly illegal. Heck, kids, at this point I might even kill Scott Baio myself just to get on with the world. I don't have time for another caper at this point, I'm stretched way too thin.

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