This afternoon, I passed a collection box for the “Toys for Tots” program. This is, of course, a very successful charity program in which toys are collected for needy children who otherwise might not have much under the tree on Christmas day. It dawned on me that this effort has been very successful, and really become synonymous with the best parts about Christmas. With all the commercialization of the holiday, it’s easy to forget what it’s really about… Sharing. Caring. Family. And it’s worth remembering that kids are the ones who really deserve to have good Christmas memories. And for that, I think we all owe a hearty thanks to the “Toys for Tots” program.

While I was thinking about this, I was also struck by an idea for a similar program that I would call “Toys for Tits.” In this program, ample breasted young women would be forced to take off their T-shirts and bras while men throw toys at them and scream things like “Show us your tits you fucking whore!” or “Make them jiggle Goddammit!” Like “Toys for Tots” I believe “Toys for Tits” would help remind us what’s important during these holidays.

You know what would be a funny practical joke? Let’s say you meet someone on a very casual basis, like, a new clerk down at the 7-Eleven. You go in once, and have a brief, friendly conversation. Then a couple days later you go in to pick up a sixpack, and again have a very short but amiable chat. Then, a couple nights later, you come in looking really worn out and ragged. You start talking to the guy, and start crying about how you’re incapable of forming any meaningful relationships. Then you look at the guy and say, “the truth is, you’re my best friend.”

That would be a funny gag.

Here’s a headline we always want to see: Huge asteroid headed for close encounter with Earth

Earth’s close encounter with Asteroid 2005 YU 55 will occur at 6:28 p.m. EST (2328 GMT) Tuesday, as the space rock sails about 201,000 miles from the planet.

While scientists think it’s unlikely the asteroid will hit Earth, they do recommend that teenage virgins, “really try to get laid this weekend, just to be on the safe side.”

In the past, I’ve discussed my thoughts on the neurosis of modern living. As the onslaught of information ever increases, we are reminded more and more of our own mortality via 24-hour cable news reporting environmental disasters and political malfeasance, spam e-mails providing cures for everything from impotence the cancer, and warning labels on every product, however innocuous. (“Do not buy happy fun Ball,” the old SNL faux advertisement advised.)The result of this, I believe, is ever increasing anxiety and nervousness to the detriment of our mental and physical health.

Go back 200 years. You didn’t have people worrying about attention deficit disorder. You didn’t have people flagellating themselves for eating a porterhouse steak. You didn’t have an entire nation get caught up in the gory details of some missing teenager seven states away.

It struck me today that this increase in worry came about at the same time women were allowed to have an increased voice in public discussion. Is it possible their nannying matriarchal mindset — always screaming, “don’t play with that frog,” or, “don’t put that in your mouth” or, “don’t put that frog in your mouth” — has corrupted our fundamental character, turning us into a planet of neurotics caught in an endless loop of guilt and anxiety? Was granting women the right to engage in public debate the worst decision mankind has ever made?

Hey, I’m just asking questions.

When you think about it, a lot of physical and emotional therapies involve lying around on the floor and looking up at the world. For example, Feldenkrais, the movement discipline I take classes in involves a lot of time lying on your back. The same could be said for a lot of yoga. Even classic psychotherapy involves lying in the couch.

I believe the argument for lying down in physical therapies is that you’re mitigating the effects of gravity. But I wonder if there’s another aspect to it: you’re effectively positioning yourself in the position you spent a lot of time in as a baby. You’re returning to the comfort of being a cared for child.

I wonder if we could design an effective emotional and physical therapy system based on actively returning to your early years. People could walk into a room, lie there, and be cared for as they pooped their pants, peed on the floor and suckled on the breasts of the instructor. Based on my anecdotal experience, I think such a class could have remarkable therapeutic results.

One of the funniest things I’ve seen in a while. Stever Fry (the actor best known for his role on the “Jeeves and Wooster” tv show”) leads a camera team into the jungle where they are accosted by an amourous avian.

Apparently, sex can sometimes literally blow your mind.

A 54-year-old woman showed up in the emergency room at Georgetown University Hospital with her husband, unable to remember the past 24 hours. Her newer memories were hazy, too. One thing she did recall: Her amnesia had started right after having sex with her husband just an hour before.

While sex can be forgettable or mind-blowing, for some people, it can quite literally be both at the same time. The woman, whose case was reported in the September issue of The Journal of Emergency Medicine, was experiencing transient global amnesia, a rare condition in which memory suddenly, temporarily, disappears.

This reminds me of a story a female friend once told me. She had met an attractive man, and they went back to his place to have sex. He was, apparently, phenomenal in the sack, and she was just lying there, eyes closed, enjoying it. She heard him say, “I’m about to come…. Glerk!!!” Then she felt his warm salty liquid spatter onto her face. She lay there for several seconds, waiting for him to say something. Then she opened her eyes and realized that during the process of orgasm, his brain had literally exploded out of his head, and bits of brain and spatters of blood had landed on her face.

When I mentioned that she felt warm salty liquid spatter onto her face, you thought he was ejaculating on her face, didn’t you?

Jesus, you people are sick!

I think we’re all familiar with the existence of “that’s what she said!” jokes. These are jokes where someone make some kind of innocent comment and someone else contextualizes the comment in reference to recent sexual activity. For example, your friend might be using Philips screwdriver to unscrew a screw from the bottom of a lamp and he would say something like, “I can’t quite get it to fit into the hole.” Immediately, you say, “that’s what she said!” implying you recently had sex with a woman and she had trouble inserting your gigantic phallus into her vagina.

Today I was wondering why there aren’t more, “that’s what he said” jokes. With these jokes, women could switch the sexual roles around.

For example, one woman might be bathing her cat and say “that’s the wettest, sloppiest looking pussy I’ve ever seen.” Her friend would immediately rejoin, “that’s what he said!”

Or another woman might be grilling up a gigantic bratwurst and say to her friend, “I will pay you $10 to devour this sausage in one mouthful.” (Trust me — these are the kinds of comments young women make to each other all the time.) “That’s what he said!” her friend would reply.

I think even gay men could get in on the act. For example, in Seattle, where I lived for many years, there’s a famous hamburger stand called “Dick’s.” One gay man might say, “I can’t wait to get some Dick’s in my mouth. I’m going to devour that meat and let those wonderful Dick’s juices roll out of my mouth and down my cheek.” His gay friend would reply, “that’s what he said!” Then they would both laugh, “HawHawHawHawHawHawHaw!!” with that kind of evil, maniacal laughter we so often associate with gay men.

Anyway, I hope this blog post will kick off a whole series of “that’s what he said!” jokes.

I’m planning a Christmas time trip with a friend to Germany and Eastern Europe. I just saw the website for the hotel we have in Berlin, and it’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen. You get this big animated picture of a giant space station, and then a kind of virtual remote control that tweaks things. Off to the left is a menu that allows you to actually see some of the hotel rooms which are all pretty kooky. Worth seeing: www.michelbergerhotel.com

I tried the new Carl’s Jr’s hand breaded chicken strips the other day. I now feel it is my greatest duty to warn people to stay away from those things. I can’t quite identify what’s wrong with them but they have the blood of Satan flowing through them

And really – hand breaded?! Do I really care whether a chicken strip was breaded by hand?