Self-Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing

You learn something about youself after watching back-to-back episodes of "Celebreality" tv on VH1.

You learn true self-loathing.

If said back-to-back episodes were of "My Fair Brady," you learn that you've sustained some kind of brain damage. If not before, certainly during.

If said viewing of "My Fair Brady" was conducted voluntarily (i.e. your wife didn't make you watch because of some inexplicable crush on the Brady kid), was not done on a dare, was not part of a drinking game (e.g. everytime Adrianne Curry says something impossibly skanky, DRINK), and if the viewing was unaided by marijuana, well then you just might be past the stage where you can learn anything more about yourself. You have achieved full transparency.

And by "you," of course, I mean "I."

I have never been less proud of myself. At least not since the time I watched the "Fat Actress" marathon on Showtime. Oh, and then there was the Barnaby Jones/21 Jump Street incident of 1993. I'd really rather not talk about it.

If you don't mind.

Ok, I've got to go. I think there's a rerun of "Flavor of Love" on. Oh, Flava Flav, you will never find true love until you learn to love yourself.

The Marshall Plan for Adult Literacy

In 5th century B.C.E, Thucydides wrote about how protracted war and imperial ambitions led to the collapse of a powerful commercial and military superpower. Sound familiar? Former Secretary of State George Marshall once said that in order for a man to "think with full wisdom and with deep convictions regarding certain of the basic issues today" he should read Thucydides' The Peloponnesian War. At this point, I'd settle for a President who'd read a book. Any book. Ever. "My Pet Goat" doesn't count.