"I am Virgil," he said.

“You mean, like the crappy wrestler from the 80’s?”

“No,” he answered.

“Or like Virgil Earp?”

“No,” he sighed. “Not Virgil Earp.”

“Astronaut Virgil ‘Gus’ Grissom?”

“No I am not the astronaut or the gunslinger or the crappy wrestler!” he said exasperatedly. “I am the poet from ancient Rome. Don’t you know me at all?”

“Well sure,” I answered. “I’ve heard of you.”

“So you know my work?”

“Well… I know of your work,” I replied. “Don’t know your work inasmuch, per se….”

“Oh, you modern people with your action movies and Internet,” he said dryly. “You are all going to Hell, you know.”

“We’re all going to Hell because of the Internet?” I asked.

“From what I can see, yes.”

“And not Planet Hel, formerly the site of Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord’s Citadel of Evil, now the home of affordable luxury condos?”

“No.” he gestured towards the cave. “That Hell. The extradimensional realm of evil. The place where the fallen have been banished. Hades, the abyss, the underworld kingdom of suffering.”

“Yeah, I figured,” I muttered. “I was just hoping it would be someplace a little nicer.”

“Oh this place is not nice at all,” Virgil announced. “It is fire and brimstone. It is anguish and despair. It is suffering incarnate.”

“OK OK, I get it.” Jeez, this guy sure can talk. “So why would Hudson have been swept up and taken down there?”

“That I do not know,” he answered. “Who knows what dark thoughts fill the evil mind of Lucifer, the Lord of Lies, Mephistopheles, El Diab—”

“OK, so I have to go get him back,” I interrupted. “And you’re going to lead me to them.”

“That is correct,” the ancient poet nodded. “We will need to—”

“Let’s go,” I said. As I moved towards the entrance, I charged my two pistols.

“Your weapons,” he said. “You will not need them where we are going.”

“And yet I’ll feel a little bit more comfortable bringing them with.”

The crowd was cheering; I was facing off against my old nemesis Baron Roughhausen. It had been a long match and we were both worn down from physical punishment delivered. Sometimes I wonder when I can retire.

“Give it up, Earthman!” Roughhausen growled. “I’d hate to have to really hurt you.”

“But you’ve been doing so well at it all along,” I retorted. “You should keep up the good work of really hurting me.”

Roughhausen howled and threw himself at me; with little grace, I tossed him over my shoulder. He landed on his hands and knees and slowly started picking himself up while huffing and puffing.

I moved in to end the match when he threw dirt in my face. The oldest trick in the book!

“Argh, my eyes!” I clasped the palm of my hands into my face and stumbled back.

“Ha ha, your end is near!” my opponent gleefully charged me again.

I flipped him over my shoulder. As he landed on the ground, I cradled his arms and head in a submission hold.

“Faking being hurt by dirt in the face is the second oldest trick in the book,” I said to him as he passed out.

I stood up and pumped my fists into the air as the announcer called me the winner. With the crowd cheering, I made my way out of the arena.

“Game over for the Baron, huh Jon?” Hudson smiled as he greeted me in the corridor.

“Yeah,” I answered. “That was… fun…”

“Well, I got something pretty cool to tell you.” Hudson looked like he was about to burst with joy. “Something cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he stopped and leaned against the wall near a set of doors. “You won’t believe it when you hear it.”

“Well, are you going to tell me?” I asked. Why’s he dragging this out like this?

“Of course,” he answered. “I –”

Suddenly, the doors burst open and a legion of creatures poured through chattering and howling. Hudson yelled as they scooped him up and carried him off. I quickly weighed my options and ran to get my weapons.

I threw open my locker and pulled out my gun belt. I snapped it to my waist and ran back out the door. As I was running, I pulled Betsy and Winona out of their holsters and checked their charges. My two blaster pistols whistled to life as I thumbed their activators.

Throwing myself through the demolished doors to outside, I saw the last of the howling creatures off in the distance. I quickly sprinted after them. Fortunate for me, it was easy to follow their trail.

I quickly closed the distance between myself and my quarry when I saw that the monsters were all moving en masse into a cavern.

That’s interesting, I thought. I don’t remember seeing that cave before.

I fired at the retreating troglodytes, but my shots hit rock surrounding the cave. I made it to the entrance just after the last of the creatures disappeared into the depths, their noise dissipating into the echoes.

With my weapons drawn, I peered into the darkness.

“Well, I guess I gotta do what I gotta do,” I muttered out loud. Of course I didn’t know what those things were or why they took Hudson. Maybe I should let them keep him… they’ll soon beg me to take him back. Nah, I’m the hero, I have to go do the hero thing.

“I shall lead you into the depths,” said a calm voice. “That is, if you want to go.”

I whirled around and looked at the owner of the voice.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am Virgil.”

Return of the Hudson

Good morning, this is Hudson and I've got a little story to tell you.

Now you all know that Private Hudson sometimes goes by the handle H-Man and the reasons why should be pretty obvious. If you have trouble with the concept though and need me to explain it in simple terms, I will. I am called the H-Man because I am the walking, talking, breathing, running, gunning, fighting, shooting, stabbing personification of a true Colonial Marine. You know it, I know it, all the troops know it, the Lieutenant knows it and the General knows it. They know that in a tough situation, all they have to do is wind me up and let me loose. I'll tear through the enemy like the proverbial Helbat out of Hel. Game over for them. Ha ha.

This might surprise you though, but I wasn't always known as the H-Man. Yep, growing up in Texas, I had a different nickname. This nickname inspired fear and awe in all who dared stand near me.

They called me "The Rock."

Yeah, I know there are other "the Rocks" out there, be it some wanna-be actor or some dusty old prison in San Francisco, but I am the man who made being called "The Rock" what it is today.

In high school, all the hot cheerleaders would twitter when they called my name and all the jocks would be so frightened that they could hardly contain their nervous laughter. One time this really hot cheerleader walked up to me and said "Oh, 'The Rock' Hudson, you are such a man, I can hardly stand it!" Then she swooned right then and there, and all of her friends laughed nervously as I walked away with a cocky stride.

That's right, the guys did it, too. They would all call me by my nickname then cower in fear as I walked the hallways. They knew that they were in the company of greatness when "The Rock" Hudson was there.

So the next time you think of the H-Man, think of "The Rock" Hudson and the manly man that he is. "The Rock" Hudson is the man that women want and the man that men want to be.

Game over.

Kids, don't try this at home

Another True Story of Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator's Past

Several years ago, I worked in downtown Chicago and lived way out in the suburbs. Way, way out. Fortunately, I lived pretty close to a train station and was able to take the train to and from work every day. Riding the express during rush hour was usually just over an hour, but if I took a train that made all the stops, it would take 40 minutes more.

Every year, the Waukesha (or Brew City) Hash House Harriers hold an event on Pearl Harbor Day weekend. Hashers from all over the Midwest would trek to Milwaukee to run, drink beer, and throw flour bombs at each other just like in WWII. Many Chicago hashers went and so we typically accommodated that weekend by having a hash before or after for anyone passing through. This particular year, we had a prelude (or pre-lube) the night before. Fortunate for me, the venue was fairly close to one of the train stops on my route so my plan was to hash, have a few beers, then take the train home. I would get up the next morning and drive to Wisconsin for their event, of course.

Oh yes, for those who don't know, hashing is a social group who typically consider themselves “drinkers with a running problem.” It's a hare and hounds-type game with beer and socializing afterwards. I got started when I was stationed overseas back in 1990 and I still participate, though not as frequently as I used to, what with being an Intergalactic Gladiator and all.

The trail was fun and the beer after was pretty good. My friend (I’ll call him “Jim”) was the hare and he found some nice alleys and urban crud to run the hashers through. After that, we drank a few beers, had some food, sang a few songs, and hung out. In short order, I had to run to catch my train.

I got on the train and because of the fatigue of running 5 miles, plus the several beers, plus the fact that it was a Friday night and I had a long week, I immediately dozed off. I actually snoozed past my stop and when I woke up, I was all alone in the train car with the train stopped somewhere that wasn’t familiar too me at all.

I stopped a conductor walking past and explained that I missed my stop. He replied that the train was heading back and that I could just ride it to my town. I thought cool, no problem, and I sat down and waited for the train to head back.

The next thing I knew, I looked up out of the train window and saw the corrugated roof of Northwest Station’s train yard. I stopped the conductor (I think it was the same guy) and told him that I missed my stop. He essentially told me that I was out of luck, that the station was closing and there were no more trains running that night.

The conductors on Metra are all really nice people. They deal with a lot of stuff throughout their day and yet they always have a smile and/or a joke. That being said, it’s not their job to wake up some idiot who’s asleep on their train. I sure wish they would have, though.

I had few options. I didn’t have a lot of cash, I didn’t know the El system very well, and I needed to find a place to crash so I could get home the next morning. Taking a taxi to my hometown was definitely out of the question.

So I hopped a cab and took it to my friend Jim’s apartment. The cab got to his street and turned the wrong way. Frustrated and low on money, I gave him my cash and hoofed it the last couple blocks to the building. I rang the doorbell for a couple minutes and eventually Jim came down to open the door and give me a “what the heck are you doing here?” kind of look.

“I fell asleep on the train and missed my stop and fell asleep on the train again and went back downtown and now there’s no more trains and I have no place to go!” I quickly wailed. I made it sound a bit more desperate than I actually was, but it did sound funny. If nothing else, I still had my sense of humor.

Jim kind of shrugged and led me upstairs to crash on his couch. When I got there, I saw that one of the harriettes was in his apartment as well. They were in the process of “hooking up” and I had unintentionally spoiled the mood. Jim later thanked me for it though, so I guess all’s well that ends well, right?

Kind of, I got ribbed for my blunder the next day in Milwaukee and pretty much every weekend after that for a couple years. I still enjoy telling the story though, as it was one unusual night.

Of course, the next time I fell asleep and missed my stop, I was sure to get off at the next stop and take a cab back. I wasn’t taking any chances, that’s for sure.

A Message From the Queen

Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the Galaxy, members of the Galactic Senate, it is My unfortunate duty to speak of the deplorable actions of one of our own.

One of the biggest assets of this Senate, the thing that holds the governmental process together for an entire galaxy is the intergrity and honesty of its members. When a being becomes a Galactic Senator, this individual chooses to act in the Galaxy's best interest above all else. Above personal desires and above personal gain. He, she, or it must follow the strictest personal code in order for this Galaxy to function as it does.

Unfortunately, there occasionally comes a time when one individual acts in self interest. It is My duty to report that this is indeed one of those times.

Senator Smark Ken-Deigh used his position of authority for his own selfish reasons and has earned the distrust of this Senate as well as the peoples of the Galaxy.

Senator Ken-Deigh's behavior was deplorable and inexcusable. Because of this, he will certainly be censured for his actions. His deeds on that fateful night shall now serve as a reminder of the oath that all senators must take when entering office. While that oath swears loyalty to the Crown it also assures a senator's honesty and integrity above all else.

When Senator Ken-Deigh stole the cookie from the cookie jar, he created a fissure. He compromised not only his principles, but he also cracked the dam of the Galactic Senate. With that dam fissured, the entire Galaxy is in danger of being swept away in a flood of fear and distrust. I shall plug the hole of that dike with my own finger and assure the Galaxy's citizens that their loyalty and trust are not something easily taken for granted.

Thank you and good night.

I think I wasted my money

You know how there are those movies that come out right around the time a studio blockbuster is released to try to get a little bit of the audience from that big movie? You know the ones, they usually go straight to home video, or maybe you'll see it on HBO or the Sci Fi channel, movies like Pirates.



Seems pretty obvious to me that they're trying to cash in on Pirates of the Caribbean.


Or perhaps you would like to see Snakes on a Train.


Who wouldn't? It's got snakes, it's got trains. If my mind were any more perverted, I could make some sort of innuendo about that. That's me, master of the single entendre.



This past weekend, I was at my local Giant Video Conglomerate and I quickly grabbed a movie that I wanted to rent, I paid for it and rushed home to watch it. Only then did I discover that I grabbed the wrong movie.

V for Vidalia? What the heck kind of a movie was that? It was all about onions!

And I always thought that a terminator was the dividing line between the bright and shaded regions of the disk of the moon or an inner planet

Kyle Reese had arrived maybe 30 minutes after the Terminator as traveling back in time is not an easy task. After collecting what leftover clothes he could get from what remained of the two punks, he followed the cyborg’s trail (actually not too difficult of a task) to its target. Kyle Reese prayed that he wasn’t too late.

When the time displaced commando saw the fireball erupt into the sky from the direction of the junkyard, he knew that was where he needed to be. Tumbling into the junkyard, he saw the burning oil drums. He didn’t see the Terminator, but he did see a figure silhouetted in the darkness. Reese quickly sprinted up to the man.

“Come with me if you want to live,” he said.

“What?”

“My name is Kyle Reese,” he quickly continued. “We don’t have much time. I’m from the future, there’s a Terminator that was sent back to kill you!”

“I know.”

“Well, we have to get out of here. A Terminator’s unstoppable, it doesn’t feel pain. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.”

“Yeah, I would imagine.”

“It was here right?” Reese asked. “You saw it? What are you doing just standing there? Where’d it go?”

“It’s up there.”

Reese looked up and saw what was quite possibly the most amazing and unusual sight that he’s ever seen in his long, hard life. Hanging forty feet in the air, the killer cyborg was stuck fast to the end of the steel arm of a crane.

“Whu—what’s that?” Reese sputtered.

“I dropped a crane magnet on it. It thrashed around for a little bit, but then it stopped moving, I assume that it has a hard drive inside it, right? You know, to drive it’s OS, store information. Stuff like that.”

“Well, I guess,” answered Reese. “I don’t know… I don’t know tech stuff.”

“Yeah, I figure I’d just leave the big guy hang there for a while. It might have something redundant in it or something. Does he?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” With his mouth hanging open, Reese looked up at the machine stuck to the magnet. “I can’t believe that…”

“Are you telling me that you guys get chased by these things all the time and you never tried to magnetize them?”

“Well, I… uh…”

“Electromagnets? EMP’s? Even a refrigerator magnet? Nothing?”

“Well, yeah yeah, sure we did,” Reese answered. “We used magnets all the time.”

“OK. Well, I guess that’s it, huh? Thanks for coming back in time to try to save me and stuff. You going to head back now?”

“I can’t.” Reese was still looking up and the metallic creature. “The trip was one way. I can’t go back home.”

“OK, that’s no problem. I have some friends that might be able to help you get back. Maybe Captain Picard or Professor X. They can probably get you back to your time.”

“Back to… my time?”

“Sure.”

“Screw that,” Reese said. “I’ll stay here. Let’s go get a beer.”

Exterminator? Eliminator? Instigator?

On a cool night, in the belly of the city, the darkness was interrupted. Lightning flashed and an unusual ball of energy formed on the wet concrete underneath an overpass. Electricity crackled and something formed within the sphere of ionic power.

The fury subsided; the form within was a man crouching low. With his high voltage womb dissipating, the unclothed man stood up and surveyed his surroundings. This surely must be the place.

A gang emerged from the shadows. “Hey nature boy, what are you doing on our turf?” one of the thugs called out.

“Giff me your clothes and your shoes,” the naked man stated flatly.

“Screw you, buddy!” With a flash, the blade of the stiletto in the punk’s hand snapped to life.

With no regard for their lives, the naked man dispatched the aggressors with ease. Stripping them down, he took their boots, pants, a shirt, and leather jacket. To complete the look of the locals, he snatched the sunglasses from off one of his mangled victims.

Stiffly walking down the city street, the hulking man found a convenience store and stepped inside.

“I require a phone book,” the man coldly told the clerk in an unusual European accent.

The clerk pointed him towards the phone book.

The man grabbed the book and quickly flipped through all of the pages.

“There are a lot of Jons,” he said flatly, showing little disappointment.

“What did you say, pal?” asked the clerk.

The man paused for a moment, as if choosing from a list of what to say.

“Shut up, gas bowl.”



The doorbell to my front door rang. I looked through the window, but I didn’t recognize the leather jacketed man standing there. I unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open.

“Yes?”

“Are you Jon zeh Intergalactic Gladiator?” the man asked.

“Uh… how did you…?”

The man quickly produced a sawed-off shotgun from underneath his jacket and fired. I dove out of the way of the blast and hurled myself over the living room couch. Foam and cloth exploded as the man fired the second shot from the double barreled weapon. As the empty shells clattered to the floor, I stood up and fired the sonic stun blast from my Wristcomm at him.

“You’re veapon ist useless. You vill be terminated.” He advanced towards me.

I scrambled back and grabbed one of my blaster pistols. I swung the weapon around at him and loosed several lances of phased energy right at his chest. The blaster bolts slammed into him and shredded his leather jacket. His flesh burned away where he was hit and I was startled to see what was underneath – wires popping and sparking and servos whirring.

“You vill be terminated,” the monster repeated and stiffly lunged towards me.

I dodged his attack and leapt out the window, firing my pistol at the glass to shatter it.

I tumbled to the ground and rolled to absorb my fall. I quickly sprang up and sprinted into my back yard. Throwing myself over the fence, I glanced back and saw that this cyborg or whatever he is charging towards me.

Running down the alleyway, I looked at the pistol in my hand. “Well Betsy,” I said to her. “Looks like we’re in some deep stuff now.”

Elsewhere, a second ball of energy crackled and thundered to life. A second naked man stood up and looked at his surroundings. He saw the crumpled remains of the two bikers and knew that the Terminator was not far away.

Meanwhile, in my mad dash from the stalking behemoth, I managed to make my way into a junkyard. I looked around at my options. I had few.

“You vill be terminated,” the machine man said a third time.

“I heard you the first time!” I yelled as I fired at the oil drum next to him.

The oil drum exploded and the flaming fluid splashed all over him. He calmly walked through the flames and continued towards me. From behind his back, he produced an Uzi 9mm submachine gun.

What is it with me and these last stands in junkyards?

That's no moon, that's a... uh...

I've Been Everywhere

I was totin' my pack along the long dusty Winnamucka road
When along came a semi with a high canvas covered load
If you're goin' to Winnamucka, Mack with me you can ride
And so I climbed into the cab and then I settled down inside
He asked me if I'd seen a road with so much dust and sand
And I said, "Listen! I've traveled every road in this here land!"

I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere

I've been to:
Reno
Chicago
Fargo
Minnesota
Buffalo
Toronto
Winslow
Sarasota
Wichita
Tulsa
Ottawa
Oklahoma
Tampa
Panama
Mattawa
LaPaloma
Bangor
Baltimore
Salvador
Amarillo
Tocapillo
Pocotello
Amperdllo

Here we go
I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the Hacknor air, man
Of travel I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere

I've been to:
Babylon
Chiron
Chthon
Lamarckia
Wysanti
Houston
Korridon
Tarkalea
Mogo
Kosmos
Z’ha’dum
Tralfamadore
Hel Rock
Gor Rock
Tortuna Rock
Eternia
Etheria
Thundera
Rimmerworld
Dam-Ba-Da
Qujaga
Hera
Dagobah

For Pete's sake
I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the Hacknor air, man
Of travel I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere

I've been to:
Mustafar
Drongar
Burmle
Chapek
Wormulon
Cannibalon
Cybertron
Unicron
Abydos
Athos
Argos
Caprica
Faraway
Hathaway
Erra-Tay
Delta Prime
Finnea Prime
Jellico
Krankor
Kregan
K-PAX
Mor-Tax

See What I mean
I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the Hacknor air, man
Of travel I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere

I've been to:
Prysmos
Talos
Kairos
Cthulhu Mythos
Cartago
Scorpio
Helos
Plateau
Gallifrey
Bilbringi
Corscant
Corellia
Hurcha
Joralla
Moria
Mar Sara
Thanagar
Asgard
Astra
Giedi Prime
Cardassia Prime
Earth Prime
Ando Prime

What a good time
I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the Hacknor air, man
Of travel I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere

The Assault on Onslaught

I was sitting in the dugout, just out of Onslaught’s view. I was waiting for my chance to strike. I owed him big time for what he did last week. Normally, I keep a sense of humor about me when I’m in a tough situation; it helps ease tension and also keeps my mind working until I find a solution to whatever problem I am encountering. Today is an exception. Today I will not be making with the yucks.

My jaws were growing sore from clenching my teeth; I hadn’t even realized that I was grinding them like that. I was getting antsy until it was my time to jump in. Some of the stronger heroes were wearing him down first, but then I heard Fred the Fox give me the signal. Let me tell you, in all of my years I never would have thought that I’d ever take orders from a talking fox.

I cupped my hand to my mouth and let out a long howl. Any dog within earshot would come running. Having a pack of dogs attacking and running around Onslaught would distract him and allow the heroes to take him down. As you know, in situations like this, dogs are never injured. They always outrun the fireballs and dodge train wrecks and stuff.

A tan mutt yipped and hopped up and down in front of me.

“Hey poochie!” I said to the hound. “Where’s all your friends?”

The dog barked and looked up at me with his tongue hanging out.

“What do you mean ‘you’re it?’” I asked. “I called all the dogs in the area. There should be dozens of them.”

The dog hopped up on his hind legs, spun around, and barked some more.

“They’re busy? Oh for the love of -- This is important! I need everyone’s help to stop Onslaught!”

The dog looked at me, twisted his neck to one side, and then barked again.

“Aww jeez,” I rubbed my face. “Well I’m not sending you out there. You’re all by yourself, he’ll squash you.”

The dog growled and spun around and barked.

“No no,” I answered. “It’s just too dangerous.”

The dog looked at me, then looked at the carnage out on the ball field, then looked at me again.

“I’m serious. Don’t do it.”

The dog tore off towards the villain, barking and growling. Onslaught looked down at the mutt, paused for just a moment, then booted him over my head and into the stands. I peered out from my vantage point and saw him laying there with a sad dog look.

“Are you OK?”

He whimpered back at me.

OK. Dog’s fine and it’s showtime. Hey that rhymes! So does rhyme! OK, OK, I’m getting distracted; it’s my turn to take a shot at that scarlet and maroon behemoth. I ran out of the dugout towards Onslaught. I fired Betsy from my right hand and my Wristcomm was strapped to my left. From it, I fired the sonic blasts at him.

Wolverine, Magdalena, Iceman, and Vegetta working together had him reeling. They also got his helmet off. Without that protection, enough exposure to my sonic attack should bring him down.

Onslaught howled, he had Mags in his clutches and was squeezing her with tremendous force. I fired again and the laser bolts slapped his face.

“AH THAT STINGS!” he howled. He tossed Mags to the side and started towards me. I kept shooting him with my blaster pistol as well as hitting him with the sonic assault, but he pressed forward towards me.

“Uh, little help here,” I said out loud.

The brutish villain refused to stop. I kept hitting him and hitting him, but he just wouldn’t stop.

“Uh, anyone?” I said. “Little help!”

Howling in rage, Onslaught pulled his giant fist back.

“Anyone?”

Kicking his howl up a notch, he hurled his giant armored ham of a fist at me.

“ANYONE?”

It felt like my insides were being torn around. I felt sick as my stomach did somersaults inside my guts. My vision snapped to, though and I realized that I was back in the dugout and Onslaught never did hit me. Captain Koma teleported me away at the last possible second. I looked across the field at Onslaught. He was yelling, of course.

“YOU WEAK FOOL!” he shouted. “I AM DOING ALL THIS FOR YOU! IT IS THE VENGENCE THAT IS RIGHTFULLY YOURS! THAT YOU ARE TOO SPINELESS TO TAKE FOR YOURSELF!”

With that, Onslaught’s armor cracked away and he fell first to his knees, then flat on his face. Gaia and Fred stood over his crumpled form. I could have sworn that I heard the fox say “Game over.”

SNL Trims Some Fat

Last night as my wife and I were watching TV, the local NBC affiliate ran a teaser that several cast members were leaving Saturday Night Live. I suppose that it may have been a slow news day, I know there certainly isn't anything else interesting going on, so you should definitely tease what's happening on SNL, right?

This being the digital age, I jumped on my computer (well not literally, you know what I mean) to find out who is getting the ax. I found an article stating that Horatio Sanz, Finesse Mitchell, Chris Parnell are the three getting their walking papers. I can't say that I'll miss Parnell, he plays too many blatantly stereotypical effeminate characters and pantless perverts for my tastes. He was also fired once before, so it's that much easier to get rid of him again.

I guess it's unfortunate that Mitchell is gone too. I liked some of the stuff that he did, but he didn't get enough air time and many of the African American characters that he would play can go to Kenan Thompson, who not only is black, but he's also fat and he starred in Good Burger, so he's got to be that much funnier, right?

I have mixed feelings about Horatio, too many of his skits devolved into him breaking character and laughing and he couldn't have done a worse job hosting Weekend Update (subbing for Tina Fey when she had her baby) if he had marbles in his mouth, but he was a fairly reliable contributer who had funny moments satirizing Gene Shallit, Ozzy Osborne, Elton John and others.

Tina Fey and Rachel Dratch have also departed for 30 Rock. At least I think Dratch is on that show, it's gotten retooled or rewritten or something along the way and her part was written out/altered/killed off/something. Even though their talents will be missed, I suppose it's good because now Maya Rudolph may get some camera time back.

I've been a big fan of SNL for a long time, even it's lean years. Even though the classic Not Ready For Prime Time Players did some of the funniest, most subversive stuff in the history of television, I started watching the show in the 80's which featured the comedy of Phil Hartman, Dana Carvey, Jan Hooks, Dennis Miller, Julia Sweeney, Chris Farley and David Spade. Because of this, most of their work remains some of the favorite and most memorable to me. There was another guy in there, too. Who was that, Mike Meyers or something?

My wife is gaga over Will Ferrell, so I would be remiss if I didn't mention his contributions. After a choppy start, I think he did some really great stuff on SNL as well. Although, I have to say that I think my impersonation of Harry Caray blows Ferrell's out of the water.

So getting back to the present. I think that the current group of players will be pretty strong. Fred Armisen, Andy Samberg, and the aforementioned Maya Rudoph remain my favorites. Will Forte and Seth Meyers have their moments and you have to keep Darrell Hammond on, evidently, because no one else can do a Phil Donahue impression.

Now for your opinion, what's some of your favorite SNL stuff from over the years? Anyone want to stand up for Joe Piscopo or Charles Rocket? How about the other side of the coin, who or what was so bad on the show that it drove you crazy?