Good Morning, Internet

So, Roy (of Siegfried and) got mauled, huh? It being Vegas I'm sure somebody had money on it somewhere. It was only a matter of time.

My favorite joke I ever heard Caroline Rhea say? "My boyfriend calls me Cuti. Of course, that stands for Chronic Urinary Tract Infection."

Shyam gave me a folder with Homer "the Man" Simpson on the front screaming "Everytime I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain."

I remember Kelly Bundy having a similar problem on Married...with Children.

But it's all funny, because it's true.

Everybody's number is different. But everybody has one. It is a number of specific facts that you are allowed to know. Luckily, the little Martian in your brain knows how to prioritize things so that the least important information is pushed out when you learn something new.

However, some people have very low numbers. Their Martian knows that they can't learn much new stuff, lest they forget how to walk or not go the bathroom in their britches, so it stops them from learning anything new.

Other Martians, unfortunately, are dealing with such vast amounts of information (scientists, doctors, guys named John) that sometimes stuff slips out. Like where you parked your car, or where you put your pants.

Your Martian is not inclined to tell you what your brain number is. But it's on file in the offices of General Mills cereal. You can write them (include a SASE), and they won't tell you your brain number, but they will tell you your Martian's name and a few of his likes and dislikes. They don't come out and say that the Martian can be bought, but it's kind of implicit.

My Martian's name is James. And he likes Guinness.

And after a few, he told me that my brain number is 39.

So at any given time, I have 39 facts in my head. It may not sound like much, but it's really all you need.

All of which reminds me of a funny joke that was sent to me:

The presidents of all the beer companies get together to have a summit. They hold it at a very find beer garden. The waitress comes around and asks would you like anything to drink?

The President of Budweiser orders a Bud.

The President of Coors orders a Coors.

The President of Miller orders a MGD.

And so on and so forth until they get to the President of Guinness, who orders a Dr. Pepper.

The other presidents look at him and ask what's wrong?

"Nothing," he says. "But if you guys aren't going to order beer, neither am I."

Thanks, I'm here for a long time, don't forget to tip the wait staff.