There you have my predictions for Super Bowl XLVI.  You’re welcome, America.

The limo company may find, as time goes by, that they have to expand the fine schedule a little, to add things like:

• $5 for getting into the vehicle while smelling of cigarette smoke
• $10 for telling jokes/stories likely to make other passengers vomit
• $12 for eating the air freshener
• $15 for spilling a Slurpee — $17.50 if it contains red or green
• $75 for vomiting out the window and hitting the outside of the vehicle
• $100 for flicking your Bic (do people still say that?)
• $125 for chewin’, $300 if you spit
• $1000 for getting into the vehicle while actually on fire

As your next president, I will NOT:

• give every American family a new car
• appoint Lady Gaga to a cabinet post
• change the laws on abortion and immigration to tailor them to exactly your personal point of view
• find a way to reduce the deficit while improving your standard of living.

Heh heh heh.  Now we just sit back and watch the votes come pouring in.

Conan O’Brien

Well, you’re unlikely to find a team called the Redcoats. Maybe in Canada (though not Quebec).

Let’s see what Princess the Camel predicts — she’s called five out of the last six Super Bowls correctly (slipping up once by favoring the Colts over the Saints — maybe because they were animals?). Princess says it’s the Giants!

All I’m going to predict is: A certain housing complex in Houston will not get robbed during the game. Last time that happened, the crooks couldn’t get the gate opened and had to leave their getaway car behind.

The U.N. says the bags are fake. Or does it?

“This did not come from a United Nations facility,” U.N. official Gregory Starr told reporters. “It was not, in my opinion, not intended to go to a United Nations facility.”

Is that “not — NOT — intended” or “not not intended”, meaning “not unintended”? Next, maybe, we’ll be hearing about the U.N.’s new intensive random drug testing program.

But it did give me an idea. I need some celebrity endorsements to soup up my campaign. Not your Hollywood elite – they’re pretty much committed to the Democrats (with the obvious exception of Mr. Stone). The Pro-wrestlers and NASCAR drivers all support the Republicans, so they’re out.

So who’s left?  Reality TV stars.

My plan is simple, really.  I’ll invite a bunch of losers… ahem, runners up… from the various reality TV shows to compete in a new show in which they have to go out and pimp my campaign.  We’ll call it something extremely clever like “Pimp My Campaign.”  The prize will be a cabinet position for the contestant who hustles the most votes.  Genius, eh?

(U.S. Navy photo of Kellie Pickler)

Which brings us to the official unveiling of the symbol of the Giggle Chuckle Party… the wise and majestic Panda Bear. Pandas are as American as apple pie, once having roamed the wide open country by the millions… until the donkeys and elephants nearly wiped them out by invading their native habitat.

So when you think of pandering… ahem, I mean Pandas… think of the Giggle Chuckle Party.

Mrs. Lalonde came home on Christmas Eve and found her house had been burglarized. Someone had taken not only her TV, computers, and jewelery, but also a silver hockey puck containing ashes of her late husband. Somehow, she managed to see the ridiculousness of the situation.

“They probably thought it was a big chunk of silver, but they’ll get a big surprise when they open it up,” she said.

The puck was engraved with the word “Babe”, which Mr. Lalonde always called his wife because “He could never remember my first name.”

It was returned Friday.