Hello. My name is Basmati Kasaar. I am suffering from rare and deadly diseases, poor scores on final exams, extreme virginity and a fear of being kidnapped and executed by anal electrocution. I also suffer from the guilt of not forwarding 50 billion fucking chain letters sent to me by people who actually believe that if you send them on, a poor six-year-old girl in Arkansas with a breast on her forehead will be able to raise enough money to have it removed before her redneck parents sell her to a traveling freak show.

Last month I wrote a piece on Puff Daddy. As the last issue went to press, the asshole changed his name to P-Diddy. I'd like to take this opportunity to amend the previous article. Changing your dumbass name to yet another dumbass name won't erase the damage, nor will it excuse you from being complete shit. You still suck. Prince did it, and successfully. Why? Because he has talent, moxie, originality, and the motherfucker is just plain cool. You possess none of those traits and will never possess them, no matter what ridiculous name you choose. So fuck you, P-Diddy, you no talent hack.

This month I sat down and had an ever-so-pleasant chat with Hollywood star, Kevin Pollak. You may know him from such hit movies as A Few Good Men, The Usual Suspects or, my personal favorite, House Arrest.
darby: What’s next for Kevin Pollak?
Kevin: Well, I’m on a nationwide tour. I’m also co-starring in Dr. Dolittle 2 with Eddie Murphy. It comes out in June.
d: As a voice?

Summer is here again. Yes sir, three months of paradise. The sun kissing your nose and warming your toes. The breeze tickling your back and carrying birdy songs. It’s all too perfect. Couldn’t you just listen to the delightfully innocent giggles of your children all day long? Me neither. So what’s the quickest solution? Summer camp! Yuppies have proven themselves ingenious; kicking their kids out of the house for the entire summer under the guise of fun and learning-- and it’s 100% legal! Now, I don’t have the financial resources to fund such a trip, but I am resourceful.

RENÉE FRENCH MAKES CUTE THINGS UNCOMFORTABLE. TASTES LIKE CHICKEN'S DEBBIE MAKES US UNCOMFORTABLE. AND HE SPOKE BRIEFLY WITH HER ABOUT GERMANS, CROC HUNTERS AND CANYONS.
debbie: What were you doing right before you started this interview?
Renée: Watching a chipmunk stuff his cheeks with some unidentifiable food thing that was bigger than his head.
d: What was the first thing to pass through your mind when you found out a paper named tastes like chicken wanted to interview you?
R: Good name for a band. Think I'll say yes.

WHERE OUR MADCAP MAN OF THE HOUR GOES POSTAL AND GETS FRANK WITH KNUCKLEHEADS IN HIGH PLACES.
This month frank wrote to CHAIRMAN KAGA, the flamboyant and eccentric owner of Iron Chef's Kitchen Stadium, in an attempt to become the first Iron Chef American!
Venerable Chairman Kaga,

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS A TOP SECRET CONVERSATION ABOUT QUAKE, JERRI FROM SURVIVOR, AND CONSPIRACY THEORIES. IT IS A CONVERSATION BETWEEN COMEDIAN JOE ROGAN AND TASTES LIKE CHICKEN STAFFER DARBY O'GILL THOUGH THE LOCATION OF THIS DISCUSSION STILL REMAINS A MYSTERY, WE DO KNOW SOME VERY SERIOUS CHINESE FOOD WAS INVOLVED. OR WAS IT?
darby: Word through the grapevine is that you and Jerri from Survivor used to be an item. Is that true?
Joe: It’s true. We used to date.
d: Was she really a bitch?

Being the non-driving schmuck I am, I’ve done my time in Greyhound bus stations. I’ve been through all the refueling delays and the missed bus connections. Oh, and I know all about those crafty little shits and their anti-privacy urinals. I’d tell the guy next to me to keep his eyes on his own side, except (holy salami!) there isn’t anything for him to be on the other side of. Despite all my flowery experiences with the oversized short bus factory, I never thought I’d be privy to divine wisdom in one of their terminals.

I don't really have an article this month. I have a list. Because there are lots of things on my mind, and I really don't have the attention span to elaborate on them.
1. Did you ever stop and think how weird it is that Jesus is born a bouncing baby boy in December, only to die four months later as a thirty-some-year-old man, and then come back from the dead, all-powerful, three days later? That's pretty sweet.