2001-10-24 - 6:26 p.m.

�So gays want to be in the military. I don�t know how y�all feel about it. But here�s how I feel about it. Anyone�.DUMB ENOUGH�to want to be in the military should be allowed in. End of fucking story. I don�t care how many push-ups you can do, put on a helmet, go wait in that foxhole and we�ll tell you when we need you to kill somebody.�

No good can ever come from Flaming Sambuca. This may seem like a fairly elementary observation, but I could previously have argued against it, had I not seen the potential devastation lived out to possibly its fullest degree in a bar on Saturday. A friend of a friend (yes, I know you�re thinking Urban Myth already, but stick with me�) was famed for employing a particularly unorthodox method when drinking a Falming Sambuca. He would place the lit glass on his newly exposed bare buttock, wait for it to stick, then shake his tush a bit before plucking it with a �pop� and downing it in one, to the delight, admiration and hilarity of all who witnessed it. You can imagine, I�m sure, the swell of pride as you bask in the golden glow of overwhelming male creativity. The god of novelty drinking techniques was angry that day, my friends (�Like an old man returning soup in a deli��). The lit glass had a small but fatal hairline crack, and the look of smugness as it was placed confidently onto the waiting buttcheek turned to horror as it retained its flaming properties on its way downwards into the dropped trousers, leaving a blue trail of glowing alcohol along the now-twitching leg, a hastily-found glass of water administered to the pant-based inferno, a badly placed wet patch emerging, framed by the freshly charred material � a particularly horrific instance of When Cocktails Go Bad. I think there�s a lesson there for all of us.

I only have limited experience of the flamb� look, but I like to think I carried it off quite well. Standing conversing with a young lady at a dinner party, I deduced I�d backed up over a waist-height candle when she quite politely and reasonably said, �Excuse me, but I think your shirt�s on fire.� She was not only factually correct, but a model of generosity, donating her half of lager to the immediate cause of dousing me out. Not the icebreaking tactic I�d USUALLY recommend, but if you can carry it off with panache, it IS quite a talking point.

�A lot of Christians wear crosses � you think if Jesus comes back he�s going to want to SEE a fucking cross? It�s like going up to Jackie Kennedy with a rifle pendant on�.Just thinking of John, Jackie�.Just thinking of John.�

Ah, the week of global meltdown sees a new Bill Hicks CD hit the shops. Minor religions have been founded on less.

�What business is it of yours what I do, read, buy, see or take into my body as long as I do not harm another human being? And for those of you out there who are having a little moral dilemma about how to answer that question, I�ll answer it for you�.NONE of your fucking business! Take that to the bank, cash it and go on a fucking vacation out of my life��

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