People assert themselves in strange ways, and I have to ask, "Why bother?" You're walking past the Whole Foods market and there's some dude in a hemp Greenpeace shirt asking you to sign a petition. I'm a big supporter of our planet not turning into a boiling desert wasteland, but seriously, what's one signature, or ten, or ten-thousand signatures really going to accomplish — and I don't want to be the guy who has to tell these innocuous kids that no amount of petitions will keep the German riot police from beating up protesters armed with paper mache puppets. The Bush administration is going to do whatever it's going to do — there's three-hundred million people in America, minus the Twenty-Eight Percent, deluded fundies who are happily following Dubya into hell, leaves two-hundred sixteen million... even if the liberal idealists, bless their hearts, on the sidewalk with the clipboards and everything, collect two-hundred sixteen million signatures for whatever: anti=globalization, anti-strip mining, chocolate sauce reclassified as a food group, these college kids won't be changing anything. They ask for my signature, and I smile and say, "Sorry, no," because I don't want to encourage them.

That leads to this morning's news: angry Sopranos fans crashed the HBO website complaining about the series' deliriously unsatisfying ending. Why???!!! It's not like the bosses at HBO are going, "Hmm, turns out America didn't appreciate that little joke. How about we all take a mulligan and re-shoot the ending, just to please our neanderthal customers." Seriously, you're so pissed: go ahead and cancel your HBO. I dare you to go on Entourage withdrawl. You're angry now, but give it a week till that comfortable numbness sets in and everything will be okay.