Talk about a missed opportunity. Here we are less than 48 hours before the kick-off of Super Bowl XL and Janet Jackson has still not been invited to participate in the half-time show. What the hell is Don Mischer thinking? Only a complete moron would fail to exploit the connection between the Roman numeral for forty and the most recent size of everyone’s favorite exhibitionist. Hell, look at me right now. I’m doing it and I’m not even a big shot producer. At least not yet I’m not. But that’s only because I still can’t do a complete line of coke in front of all the other producers without pissing my pants and crying like a little girl.

And, in case anyone was still wondering, the answer is yes. Janet Jackson can still kick my ass. Although I must admit that I am lot less scared of her now after hiring Bea Arthur to act as my bodyguard. And let me tell ya, not only does this woman possess one of the meanest spin kicks you’ll ever see, but she can also spin one hell of a good story before bedtime. Damn it, Bea Arthur. I just love you.