You want to be a C O L U M N I S T, don't you?

Totally ignoring Labor Day, Y.P.R. instead presents a new Feature: Anti-French Sentiment. [Note: This feature is no way fueled by, nor does it comprise, topical anti-French sentiment of the sort that flourished following this spring’s media-instigated Franco-American tiff regarding Iraq; instead there will be non-topical anti-French sentiment, made of old-fashioned stuff like jingoism and the bullying of an easy target. But, to be clear: Y.P.R. endorses satirical wit and/or irony, not xenophobic racism. Hey, we loved Amélie.]

Have you read Geoff Wolinetz's Open Letter to the Panda Handler at the San Diego Zoo over at McSweeney's? Go. Now.

Bea Shirts!

* Enjoy. *

L A D Y ,   Y O U R   P I P E S N E E D   C L E A N I N G BY RAY STILLMAN Look, lady, your pipes are all clogged up. They need to be cleaned out. They--what? Oh, it’s the tools. The weight of the tools in my belt is what makes my pants hang so low. I know, I know--it’s kind of embarrassing. The curse of the plumber: your ass crack is exposed to all. I’ve heard all the jokes, believe me. Now, if you’ll pardon me while I get to work on cleaning your pipes… what? Yes, some iced tea would be nice. Thank you. Yes, it’s very hot in here. I see you’re rubbing an ice cube along your exposed chest. That must cool you down, I’m sure. Yes, the iced tea is very tasty. Is that peach flavored? I like peach. It’s very sugary... you keep licking your lips like that, and I--whoa, O.K. there, ha, ha, thank you. Thanks for licking the tea off my--hey, please watch it, I’m going to spill... Um, could you pass me my wrench? Ma’am, I’m sorry, but could you not gyrate so seductively while I’m trying to work? It’s difficult to concentrate on cleaning your pipes. Whoa--hey now... Ma’am, I know my pants are hung extremely low, but I’ve explained to you it’s not by choice. I’m here to clean your pipes, not to engage in some steamy sexual encounter. I’m sorry. If you’d please pull your nightie back on, I’d appreciate it. Thank you. Well, there you go. Your pipes are thoroughly rooted clean. I hope you’re not upset about that whole awkward sex thing. I know, I know, it’s O.K. This type of misunderstanding happens to me all the time. Until there’s a clog or a flood, many women have never met a plumber in real life, and they expect us to be just like the plumbers you’d see in a typical pornographic film. I assure you, we’re not like that at all. We’re very professional. If we went around having sex instead of fixing pipes, there wouldn’t be a working kitchen or bathroom in the whole city! No, no, do not apologize, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. But now you know: we plumbers are very skilled professionals who do not go around enjoying wanton sexual acts with strangers. If that’s what you’re looking for, I suggest you contact your local cable-TV repairman. Good day, ma’am. Resistance is futile. You will SUBMIT. More groovy daily pieces. RIGHT HERE, YO.