I'm watching Monday Night Raw tonight, and one of the angles had Steven Richards getting popped in the nuts by a t-shirt propelled from one of those air cannons used to shoot t-shirts into a crowd. I'll say first that it was a good shot by Stacy Kiebler. I don't know how hard it is to aim one of those t-shirt cannons, but I'd imagine you'd have to have at least a nodding acquaintance with trajectories and ballistics. Maybe not.

But at some point during the day, there has to be a conversation as to whether it is safe to shoot somebody (namely Steven Richards) in the crotch with one of these air cannons. Whether the air pressure has to be adjusted. Did somebody sit down and talk to Steven Richards and address with him potential concerns?

The WWE has to have a Hell of an insurance policy on its people. If something had gone dreadfully wrong, and Steven ended up in the hospital....imagine reporting to an insurance company "Scrotum ripped/Testicles crushed by t-shirt propelled at high rate of speed."

Also, somebody had cleaned the shower drain today, and thrown the hairball into the toilet. Without flushing.

I do my business. I finish and admire my work and am scared halfway to my grave because there's a big nasty hairball floating in the toilet. All I'm saying is that there are things you expect, and things you don't. I'd have been just as worried if I'd found a kitten down there with the typical detritus.

Or a little toy car.

Or one of those subscription cards that come in magazines.

Die Another Day starts in theaters this weekend, I think. Mr. Bond is up for another cool adventure.

However, I wonder what the world would be like if instead of countless James Bond adventures, we anxiously awaited the next installment of the Herbie the Love Bug series.

Lastly: The Answer to Next Month's Trivia Question: The Dukes of Hazzard. Twice.