Thanks to your love and compassion, I have survived ColdWatch 2007 and am returned to among the living. Mostly. My eyebrows seem weird to me. I did not spend appropriate time in their grooming, apparently, and they are rebelling in a manner that recalls Leonid Brezhnev.

Lolling about in a sick bed gave me lots of opportunities to watch bad television, which I did not do. Instead, I used my boredom and deep hatred of game shows like the one where plastic cheeseballs stand around in cocktail dresses and contestants try to guess how much money is in the briefcase adjacent to each one, to create a brilliant new game show of my own. And I'm sorry if you are all, I LOVE THE BRIEFCASE GUESSING GAME!! but if you do, occupy yourself with this game I'm just going to make up on the spot. It's called "YOU MAKE THE CALL!"

1. Obtain a phone book. It doesn't matter where it's from, as long as you can read the text.


2. Open the book at random.


3. Close your eyes and point to a name.


4. Call the number you see next to the name and, when someone answers, ask if the person knows you. If they do, you win.


5. That's it! Doesn't that sound like fun? I think so, too. The important thing is not to give up.

Anyway, the game show I invented is designed to capitalize on the guilt I presume is carried by those who have wronged me in the past. Or, if no guilt is in evidence, to create some. I call it Those Who Have Wronged Me in the Past, and it goes like this:

I choose contestants from among Those Who Have Wronged Me In The Past, who are then lured / enticed to the studio with promises of caramels and getting to meet, like, Al Jarreau. Then, they would be put in the Isolation Booth (which is flanked by girls in sparkly dresses, to retain viewer interest) and asked one million of questions by me, Violet. I get to make up all the questions.

I intend to imitate the successful Jeopardy model, only instead of answering in the form of a question, each answer would be phrased in the form of a self-abasing statement, as in the following example:

Q: Why, in 1994, did you begin dating Violet without revealing that your girlfriend "Rebecca" a) existed and b) had recently returned from France?

A: Because I am a lowlife, lying scumbag lacking respect for either you or ...myself?

Q: CORRECT!

There may also be mild electrocution and/or falling buckets of slime.

The prizes would then be awarded. To me, by them. With an emphasis on high-quality perfumes and real estate.

Let's have another example:

Q: Can you explain the reasoning behind your attempt, in the year 2000, to steal my boyfriend by flattering him into performing a series of increasingly detailed tasks around the house your parents bought you, and which you then decorated with an astounding lack of taste, including messy, amateurish ivy vines stenciled in your Bazooka-pink bathroom?

A: Can I call a lifeline?

Q: Yes, if that lifeline is the ghostly, disembodied head of St. John the Baptist.

A: OK... I would have to go with... it's because I am an entitled, self-absorbed, spoiled daddy's girl.

Q: And...?

A: And... my strident veganism is a mask for my insufferable elitism and self-righteousness?

Q: I'll accept that answer.

A: And... your boyfriend was hott?

Q: Cue the slime bucket.

If you are reading this, you are automatically disqualified as a potential contestant, but you may write for tickets (two per request) or send for the home version of the game.

Star of the day. . .Seymour Duncan