1. At some point the pizza guys realized that everyone thinks pizza is a cheap, tasty snack, and they ratcheted up the prices until it’s the most expensive cheap snack you can buy.  You know how you used to lie around in the dorms eating pizza with your college friends?  These days college students say to one another: “I can’t wait until I can graduate, get a high paying job, and eat pizza!”

Pizza is supposed to be cheap, dammit.  That’s why they call it “pizza.”

2. There is obviously some sort of high-level test I’m supposed to take before I can be an American, because I failed it when I walked into Kentucky Fried Chicken for the first time in about 15 years.  I had no idea that a “meal” comes with two sides.  I asked the question and suffered the bemused smirk of the counter girl.  Oh, I’m sorry for not undergoing the high-level training of a Kentucky Fried Chicken employee.  Perhaps you have some sort of FAQ list for newbies?  Some sort of collateral I can peruse prior to disgracing your fine establishment with my ignorant lack of awareness regarding the minutiae of the KFC menu?  Or maybe you can just take two sides--cole slaw and baked beans, please--and dump them over your head.  Here, let me help you with that.

In addition, I had no idea that “extra crispy” is now called “original recipe.” How the hell can “extra crispy” be the original recipe?  It was goddamn extra.  Do you see how that doesn’t make sense?  Never mind--look who I’m talking to.  The Colonel.  And exactly what military excursion were you involved in, sir?  The battle of the nine piece bucket?  The invasion of the dessert parfait cup?  Bearded freak.

3. The one fast food place I go to semi-regularly is Wendy’s because it’s the only place within walking distance of work.  I usually pick up a salad.  And I try not to eat it in the place itself--because on the wall is a gigantic photograph of the late Dave, founder of Wendy’s, with a memorial inscription: “We remember you, Dave.”

Wendy’s food is indigestible enough--do I really need a dead guy staring at me while I’m trying to have lunch?  And at the same time, if these people are so cultish as to plaster him up on the wall like that, is it also conceivable that they may have decided to give their beloved founder immortality by making him a part of the menu?

I don’t have any answers.  I just know that I wouldn’t eat their chicken nuggets if you put a gun to my head.

Me: You haven’t even said anything about my new gym shirt.

Him: Uh, I didn’t notice, let me see--

Him: Oh.  Right. 

(Makes vampire face, indicating awareness that Sunnydale was home to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.)

Me: Wow, you caught the reference.  I’m amazed.

Him: I, too, am amazed.  (Shakes head sadly at me) Every damn day.

Time for another edition of Oscar the Grouch, and a look at 2004’s best picture nominees.

Lord of the Rings.  A shoo-in to win.  The academy loves movies that are so long that you need a haircut halfway through them.  Buy a beverage?  Bring a catheter.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.  Here’s a thought--let’s choose a single title and stick with it.  Doing the stupid colon approach puts this movie in the same august company as Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever, and I really don’t think that’s doing it any favors.  As for the movie itself, it was a bracing, rousing tale of sea-faring adventure that--nah, just kidding, I didn’t see it.  And neither did you, so let’s move on.

Mystic River.  Remember the good old days when Clint Eastwood used to ride around wearing a poncho and shooting people?  Me neither, but I’ve seen the reruns on AMC.  The point is, now he’s making “artsy” films about middle-aged men with lots of emotional problems.  I was hoping Clint would ride in at the end and say “Shut up you whining punks” and shoot them all.  Instead, all we’re left with is a drinking game: take a shot whenever Kevin Bacon, Tim Robbins, or Sean Penn does something angsty.

Seabiscuit.  This movie won’t win because of the terrible miscasting of the lead character.  Here you essentially have a “Rocky” movie with a horse.  The horse is an old, saggy, pile of bones.  And who do they cast?  A horse!  A complete mistake.  They should have cast the original Rocky himself, Sylvester Stallone, as Seabiscuit.  He looks the part, and he knows from underdog stories about triumph and redemption.  However, a special “shout out” has to be given to the adventurous performance given Tobey Macguire, who does a 180 degree turn from his usual role by dying his hair orange.

Lost in Translation.  I’m going to be serious for a moment.  This movie is dangerous.  Oh, you may reply: “Dangerous? It’s a lovely tone poem about friendship and self-discovery.” No, this movie carries an insidious message: “It’s okay to not sleep with Scarlett Johannsen.” That is not a message I’d want to give to my children.  If you’re hanging out in a city by yourself with Scarlett, you don’t sit around and talk about feelings for two weeks--unless you’re trying to lower her guard.  Bill Murray is definitely a lock for best actor: a lesser performer would never have been able to say all those lines without adding “For God’s sake, let’s just knock boots already.”

And let’s put a lid on all the shock and dismay about Nicole Kidman not being nominated for Cold Mountain.  Three words: Dr. Chase Meridian.