On Sunday we will push our clocks ahead as Daylight Savings Time returns, one of the surest signs that Spring is imminent.  We here at the Imus in the Morning headquarters have our own subtle indicators that winter’s reign is nearly over:  Charles’ moustache darkens to a color not usually found in nature; Bernie’s head starts to show signs of moss; I shed my tompion plug; and the I-Man complains about "not feeling well." Although, that particular sign is pretty much consistent through the entire year.  In D.C., there are other gauges besides emergence of the cherry blossoms on The Mall to announce the impending season, soherewith, are

The Top 8 Signs That Spring Is Coming To Capitol Hill

8: Nancy Pelosi stops wearing underwear

7: The film on Arlen Spector’s teeth begins to turn green

6: Rahm Emmanuel calls the Easter Bunny a "mother-effing moron"

5: The Robins have returned to nest in Peter Orszag’s hairpiece  

4: Porcupines, Banana Slugs, and Bill Clinton begin their mating rituals

3: Al Franken wakes from hibernation and leaves his den to forage for food

2: Helen Thomas sloughs off her horny layer

And the Number One sign that Spring is coming?

Senator Larry Craig’s gerbil popped its head out and didn’t see its’ shadow
 

As I sit here in the greenroom trolling the internet, looking for some stories to seize upon in order ruin a couple of lives, I came across a story about a company in Switzerland that’s begun manufacturing condoms designed for early teens.  Apparently, there’s quite a few horny Swiss middle schoolers who, up until now, in between skiing, eating cheese and drinking hot chocolate, were practicing unsafe sex.  Wow. These kids today!  When I was in junior high, I had no sex life…unless I went to school with a hole in my pocket.

The new, smaller prophylactic, produced by the Swiss-based company Lamprecht AG, is called ‘Hotshot’, and is designed to accommodate 12-14 year old boys for whom regular condoms are too large, causing them to slip off.  Sorry to say, I would benefit greatly from these new designer rubbers myself…that is, if it weren’t for the fact that I still have no sex life… unless I go to work with a hole in my pocket.

It’s safe to assume that if these Alpine Adolescents are getting some, then they must have to “work the situation” just like grownups do.  You can picture them down at the singles ice cream parlor, scoping out the babes.  It made me wonder:

Just what kind of pickup lines would a 12-14 year old boy use?

“If I said you had a beautiful body…would you have sex with me?”
“No, that’s NOT a roll of lifesavers in my pocket…I’m just happy to see you.”
“Wow!  My zits are almost as big as your…breasts.”
“Hey, if you won’t go out with me, is it okay if I think of you later on while I’m touching myself?”
“You know, you’re almost as hot as that Princess from Super Mario Brothers”
“You’re the girl of my dreams…which is why my mother has to change my sheets every day.”
“I could use some help with my anatomy homework.  Tell me, does this thing in my pants look like a bone to you?”
 


Mike Lupica is here in the greenroom with us.  We love him.  One of the all-time great guys.  He’s funny, engaging, and lots of fun. He always comes ready to play.

 He also happens to be the James Brown of the Literary World:  the hardest working man in publishing.  He is here today to promote his SEVENTH sports novel for young adults, The Batboy, following Travel Team, The Big Field, The Million Dollar Throw, Heat, Summer Ball, and Miracle on 49th Street.

These are in addition to the seven or more titles in his Comeback Kids series.  And the more than 15 other books he’s written since the eighties.  Allow me to speak for those of us who are huge fans of his work.  

Stop writing.  Enough already.

Shakespeare wasn’t this prolific.  You’ve already proven yourself, Mikey, there is no longer a need to write any more.  Ever again.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful thing to have authored so many inspirational novels of young people surmounting impossible odds to overcome adversity on baseball diamonds, football fields and basketball courts.

But we’re sick of them now.     How many times can you restate those positive, uplifting messages, "believe in yourself," and "never give up?"   We get it.

Promoting literacy in children and young adults is a beautiful thing.  But I miss the "grownup" novels you used to write.   The Peter Finley books, about the painfully attractive, cable TV news reporter and would be gumshoe.  Those were great.  Dead Air, Extra Credits, Limited Partner, and Greenwich Killing Time.  

Sorry, that last one was a Kinky Friedman novel, featuring the painfully attractive, singer-songwriter and would-be gumshoe.

A totally different thing altogether.

But, you could learn something from Kinky (besides the marketability of novels featuring people from different walks of life who fancy themselves as "would-be gumshoes").  The Kinkster doesn’t write for children.  Perhaps it’s because of the adage, "write what you know." Lupica’s been a provocative sports commentator and columnist for years, which is why his books for young adults are all about sports.   

 So it probably wouldn’t work to have a pre-pubescent, country singing, cigar smoking sociopath…and would-be gumshoe.  

Hayes Carll was with us today, a quiet, unassuming man whose demeanor belies the twisted genius responsible for a song like “She Left Me For Jesus.”  Those lyrics grabbed me by the throat and shoved a railroad spike through my heart, as I too have lost a woman to the Son of God.   

It was in college, and she became Born Again about a year after we had become “serious,” and I was happy for her, although I did suffer a bit of collateral damage; accompanying her epiphany, I suddenly became Satan.  Virtually overnight, I went from being a steady boyfriend… to the Prince of Darkness.  According to her, I was singularly responsible for all the evil and suffering in the world, an accusation that has seemed to follow me through every relationship since then.

Still, that was easier than being the “rebound” boyfriend after my next girlfriend.  When I first met her, she had recently become agnostic, although that didn’t seem to keep her from constantly comparing me to the Man who had previously been her steady beau: The Prince of Peace himself.  It’s difficult to compete for a girl’s affection when she believes her last boyfriend walked on water, virtually impossible when He literally can do so.  On a romantic picnic I had arranged in the park one sunny spring afternoon, she became surly when, after we finished the bottle, she wanted another glass of chardonnay.  “Jesus never ran out of wine,” she taunted.  Apparently, during Lent, every Friday night he also treated her to an All You Can Eat Fish Fry, during which, he’d amuse her with close up magic tricks.  

I’ve had women leave me after getting their eyes fixed and after Jungian analysis. They’ve broken up with me once they sufficiently attained their Naturalized Immigrant status.  They’ve left me for the Peace Corps, to go on the road and sell Amway, or to marry imprisoned felons after only a three-day pen pal courtship. I actually turned one on to living a life as an Amish woman. After only living together for a week, another woman actually left me to join the circus.  It’s not that she had show business aspirations; she just maintained that cleaning up after the elephants was a more preferable existence.

I actually had a girlfriend forsake me for a family member.  It’s not that she started dating my brother…she started dating HER brother.  When I asked her why, she informed me that they “had more in common” with each other.  

They moved to West Virginia.  I still get a Christmas card from them every year, despite the fact that what I initially believed to be an encloed photo of their pet beagle was actually their eldest daughter.  

She has her father’s eyes.  Well, one of them, at least.  The one that looks more center.

The Insider did a feature on ‘The Women of Fox’ that includes Fox News Personalities Megan Kelly and Harris Faulkner, along with familiar Imus faces Sandra Smith and Jenna Lee.  Strangely, it’s somehow bereft of our girl, Dagen McDowell.  The omission of Dagen from the piece is, as Don Corleone would say, ‘An Infamia’.  Not to mention Liz Claman and Cheryl Casone, who were conspicuously absent as well.  Imus, of course, is harping on the situation, trying to cause ill will, bad feelings and resentment between the Fox Foxes.  He won’t be happy until there’s a catfight back in the makeup room.

However, Dagen is not a woman who I would mess with.  She has big time Laura Ingraham potential.  I can easily see the demure Southern Belle slipping scorpions into Sandra’s foundation bottle, and razor blades into Cheryl’s lipstick.  The studio will be turned into an Ultimate Fighting type Octagon, just a big, bloody pile of hair, nail polish, and eyes gouged out with stiletto heels.  It could only be better if there were a kiddie pool in the corner, filled with Jello.

The piece makes the point that, at Fox, you can be fiercely attractive and STILL be considered a legitimate newsperson.  A fact that, as he viewed the piece, must have made Connell McShane, wonder: ‘What am I?  Chopped Liver?’ (He was not included either, despite significant focus group data that suggests he’s the prettiest one in this building.)

You could say it’s sexist and diminishes the credibility of our anchors when more is made of how many dresses Jenna Lee has in her office than her earning a  Masters of Science in Journalism from Columbia.  But you have to admit, Fox doesn’t hire ANYBODY who isn’t hot.  Except, of course, for Imus.

Who, by the way, would be about as close to a fox as they would ever get over at CNN or CNBC.  On MSNBC?

He’d be a SUPERMODEL.