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** a variation on the current hit "the sunscreen song" **

Ladies and gentlemen...

Don't drink white zinfandel.
Even if you like it. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, this would be it. The fact that drinking white zin causes individuals to earn irreversible reputations for bad taste has been proven by sociologists the world over.


The rest of my advice, on the other hand, has no basis more reliable
than chain e-mail sent to me when I really should have been working.
I will dispense this advice to you now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your virility. Oh, never mind. You
will not understand the power and beauty of your virility until
you're choking on Viagara like a frigging multi-vitamin. But trust
me, in 20 years, you'll look back at your sexual prowess and it'll
hit you in a way that you can't grasp now how it's not so bad to come
too early-and how fabulous it is to come at all.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is
about as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation while
reading Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses backwards while
balancing a plate on your head. The real troubles in your life are
apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that
blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday, when you decide to
surprise your wife and come home from work early, and your best
friend's Corvette is parked in the driveway.

Do one thing every day that scares the shit out of you. Like walking
into South Central L.A. with a hood on your head.

Fart.

Don't be reckless with other people's cars, especially if they're
more expensive than your own. Don't put up with people who are
reckless with yours, unless they have lots of insurance.

Get drunk.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead,
sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, you can
always get plastic surgery and trade up anyway.

Remember compliments you receive. Return insults a thousandfold.
If you succeed in doing this, tell me how. I love a good laugh.

Keep your old love letters. The love letters will remind you of how
your wife wasn't always a nagging bitch.

Throw away old bank statements. Especially the ones from the secret
account your wife knows nothing about.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what to do with your life. The
most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to
do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I
know still don't. They tell me about it all the time as they wrap
themselves up in a blanket and roll their shopping carts down
Broadway in Santa Monica, mumbling "skittles, skittles, skittles."

Get plenty of calcium. Maybe you'll be featured in a "Got Milk" ad
and make lots of money, like Steve Young, and Jennifer Love-Hewitt.

Be kind to your knees. Be kind to your breasts. You'll miss them
when your breasts are at your knees.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children,
maybe you won't. And maybe you're going to be the one that saves me,
and after all, you're my wonderwall.

Remember that you can't congratulate yourself too much, or berate
other people enough.

Life is half chance, so if you come out ahead, God must love you
more than other people.

Dance, even if you're white.

Don't read directions. They're just a ploy engineered by paper
manufacturers to sell unnecessary paper to the world.

Do not read beauty magazines. Porn is much more fun.

Get to know your parents. They're always good for a couple of bucks
when you're in between jobs.

Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past, and
might make more money than you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but Star Trek on UPN is forever.

So are a few good friends. Work hard to bridge the gaps in
geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you
need the people who remember you when you had hair.

Live in New York City once, but leave before someone ties you up in
your apartment and chops your head off.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before you start wearing
leather and hanging out with people named "Bruce."

Burp.

Accept certain inalienable truths: You will always work too hard,
for too little money. Your wife's boobs will sag. So will yours.
Prices will soar, and no matter how much money you make, you won't be
able to afford to buy the house you really, really want. You, too,
will get old, and when you do, you will fantasize that when you were
young, your wife's boobs didn't sag, prices were reasonable, and you
didn't care how much money you had, because living in a filthy
apartment with four other guys off-campus with a cabinet full of Top
Ramen and Lucky Lager was all you needed.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Unless they're really,
really rich. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a
wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one will be dipped
into by someone else.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be liberal with supplying it.
People love that. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a
way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting
over the ugly parts and recycling it so that somebody else, younger
than you, can get screwed over just like you did, and you can point
and laugh.

But trust me on the white zinfandel.


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