One is a certifiable genius. The other is Vinnie. Together, they are two of the most brilliant inventors in all of Pangaea. Wayne recognized this, and has given them a column to share with you the wonders of their progressive, modern minds.
THIS PART WAS WRITTEN BY #716

Skin River is the first novel by Steven Sidor, and before I had even gotten through the first chapter, I found myself wishing that there were more. I’ve been having a dry spell lately when it comes to good books, and I think that if any book could break the spell, this is it.

I\'ve been leaning against this building and studying the door of the glass-front business across the street for about 20 minutes now, just getting an idea of the numbers coming in and out.
Taking a last tight-lipped drag from my cigarette, I step off the curb and flick the butt against the wall; the shower of sparks weaves a strain of sudden fiery red through the vertical static of misty rain advancing along the waterfront this cold Saturday afternoon. Crossing the street against traffic, I enter the local unemployment center.

\"The longest distance between two points is a kidnapper and his money.\"
\"Are you the brains of this operation, or is he?\"
\"To tell you the truth, I don\'t think this is a \'brains\' kind of operation.\"

Player One: Staff Member #716
If you’ve read maybe two or more editions of this column, you know I love to prattle on about old school games. Hardly a month goes by in which I don’t mention some old Sega Genesis game, or wax nostalgic about how game design was a simpler science in days past, or use terms like \"2-D\", \"side-scrolling\", or \"Contra\". So to find a modern game that actually plays like some of the classics of way back when, but with the sharpest, clearest hand-drawn graphics current technology will allow, feels like a second Christmas to me.

HOLLYWOOD, CA - The death of longtime entertainer Johnny Carson officially became obnoxious last Thursday, according to a large percentage of the population of Earth.
\"I know it\'s sad that he died or whatever, but come on! Let it go!\" said Teresa Valdez, an annoyed 37-year-old mother of two. \"Three weeks ago I didn\'t know jack shit about Carson, but now I feel like a Carson connoisseur. I know how many wives he had, what his percentage of royalties were from The Tonight Show, and what his favorite vegetable was! Who cares?!?\"

Ah, me! February is certainly the month of love: a sweet respite in the cold, gray winter, which brings warmth to the hearts of young and old. I’ve seen my share of Februaries, and, in turn, my share of Valentine’s dates. They are events that, without a doubt, make girls blush with anticipation. But such an exciting time has its hazards, too.

Why do people like crap? I\'m serious. I mean, let\'s all stop for a second and look at the parade of poo that is marched past our eyes and into our ears nearly every single day. If my point is to be taken seriously, I must have proof to support it. And luckily for me, all the proof I need is either on your television, coming out of your radio, or in your local movie theater.
\"Whatever do you mean, Wayne?\" you ask, somewhat coyly and all dirty-like.

As many of you know, my daughter Tina was on her way to becoming one of the greatest American journalists of the 21st Century. Her column, \"The Shia Mailbag\", was an inspired example of the passion one can possess when touched by the true majesty of another’s art.
Sadly, however, it was that very same passion that catalyzed her passage from living legend to remembered icon. For on Thursday, January 28th, 2005, my loving daughter was taken from this world.