I Have Found Me a Home

The DNA tests are in, and it seems that Lost, Confused Brass Plaque has been claimed. Nick The NASA Poobah has admitted paternity. Let us all applaud Nick for his maturity and refreshing insistence upon acting as a man of honor. I am merely grateful we did not have to involve Maury Povich.

Nick is normally not the type of person to leave large, heavy wedding gifts in a thank you noteless state, but the man has been busy with his usual Poobah lifestyle. Last week he went on a 15-parabola microgravity plane ride, of the type the astronauts use to train in the Vomit Comet, and conducted several on-board experiments of the highest scientific order, including, quote, "releas(ing) my fistful of M&M's, only to have them jet off in every direction."

Upset Cereal Bowl, however? Still rootless. I've got Alex Haley on Line 1 and two calls in to Dannielynn Hope, however. Although I fear some sort of multiple The Reader gift-claiming scandal, there will be no bastard wedding gifts in my townhouse.

men from earth at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com