Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this column are those of the participants and the moderator, and do not neccessarily reflect those of the GIA. There is coarse language and potentially offensive material afoot. Insanity at its finest. Don't say I didn't warn you.

You know, I've been doing this column for a while now, and I felt that it was time for something a little out of the ordinary. I like to keep things interesting. Whether it be tossing metal shavings into cake batter or hiding old milk in unused lockers, I'm always mixing things up. You know, to keep people on their toes.

That said, allow me to make a brief explanation. See, Andrew came up with a great topic yesterday. It was something that everyone had their own witty reply to. So witty, in fact, that any response I could have made to these letters would have amounted to "Boyo boy, you sure are right! Haw haw." Spoken with an uneducated drawl, no less. So I figured, why should I even bother replying to the letter itself at all? Considering how often I go off on long, completely unrelated tangets, staying on topic hardly seems to be a prerequisite.

And so, the idea for a non sequitur episode of Double Agent popped into my little noggin. Yes, that's right; today's responses have absolutely nothing to do with the letters themselves. Does all of this sound rather strange? You'd better believe it. We've all got our strong suits; lack of focus happens to be mine.

My mother always told me that there'd be days like this. To be perfectly honest, I never really believed her. After all, she'd been wrong about things in the past, so her track record wasn't exactly sterling in my eyes. Case in point, I distinctly recall the day in which she summoned me into the kitchen, where I was promptly seated and informed of the pitfalls inherent in drug use. According to her, you needn't partake of illegal substances or alchohol to be considered "cool" by your peers, and seen as a member of the in-crowd.

I couldn't blame her, really; she'd just seen a few too many sponsored ad campaigns which brought to light the commonly overlooked fact that doing drugs is naughty. One can only see so many stiffly animated, anthromorphic cartoon characters rapping about the ill-effects of substance abuse before forgetting how insulted their intelligence had just been and considering the commercial a cute way to keep kids high on life, not on doobies and smack.

Of course, the last person of my age group whom I'd seen denouncing drug use disproved my mother's theory rather effectively. After discovering several of his peers downing a few beers in the boys' room, the young fellow made the mistake of outlining the many detrimental effects such activity could have on their livers and scholastic health. The intricate neck brace which he wore in order to straighten his obstinant incisors and canine teeth did nothing to deter the alchoholics-in-training from introducing his face to the nearest urinal. As I recall, he was unable to fully close his mouth do to the apparatus about his face, and swallowed a mouthfull of piss-water. He was out of school for weeks, having contracted a rather nasty strain of bacterial infection, and was from then on out known as "The kid who got his head stuck in the urinal and was sick for weeks because of it."

Okay, so the nickname sucked. This was back in seventh grade, mind you. We still considered writing "shit" on random pages of our school books to be comedy at its finest, and "Killing Mr. Griffon" to be a literary masterpiece. In short, we weren't the sharpest bunch. We worshiped Beavis and Butthead as our new gods; how intelligent could we possibly be?

So what does all of this go to prove? Well, for one thing, my mother is right on occasion; there most certainly are days like this one. Because of this, it would stand to reason that she was also right about drug use, and the kid who got his head stuck in the urinal and was sick for weeks because of it simply had it coming.

What's the deal with this whole Chris Gaines thing that Garth Brooks is doing, anyhow? It's being heralded as the most innovative and downright ingenious idea in music since some highly-paid dork somewhere figured out how to "put computer crap on those shiny little records." There's a few things about the situation that just don't make sense to me, quite honestly.

I'll start with the more obvious. Pardon me where I may be mistaken, but hadn't the Beatles done the entire alter-ego thing about thirty years back? Again, correct me where I err, but I believe they called themselves "Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." Okay, so I'm being a bit sarcastic; it's what I'm best at. You and I both know perfectly well that the Beatles dreamt the notion up years ago. But they weren't merely the first to think of the idea; they took it a step further yet. Getting together to participate in a group LSD session, they concocted ways to create an incoherent, full-length animated film which no one who was not on the threshold of overdosing could clearly decipher. Of course, the obvious name for a film of this nature was The Yellow Submarine. Clearly The Beatles are and were creative geniuses. In fact, to this day, all of those who have tried to fill themselves with enough cocaine to make sense of the film have died in the process.

Which doesn't bring me to my second point. The character of "Chris Gaines" looks not unlike Chris Cornell having just awoken from resting. By this token, the music a man of such physical appearance would undoubtedly create would be some form of rock in the same vein as Pearl Jam or, you guessed it, Sound Garden. Have you actually heard any of the album? It sounds like something that should be played over the supermarket sound system.

I'm not sure that I want to be a member of a society which would support and praise such obvious discrepancies. Now leave me be as I watch a few of my previously taped episodes of Mister Bean.

Have you ever noticed the vans for youth groups which the owner of has taken the extra effort to have "children on board" printed out on the back end? I don't get that. Is there really somebody out there who's going to think to themselves, "Whoah, thank my lucky stars they put that message on there! I was preparing to really ram this sucker"? If somebody isn't paying enough attention to take heed of the enormous van filled with children in front of them, the sign on the back isn't going to make much of a difference.

Of course, nobody ever claimed that the world was a logical place. Then again, that doesn't mean that "logic is for wimps" need be its motto.

How may different shapes of marshmallows are there in Lucky Charms these days? I'd swear that everytime I've been watching children's cartoon shows of late, some misfortunate inanimate object somehow winds up getting transformed into a myriad of marshmallows due to a string of events brought on by the thieving children. You've got to love a group with of people who happen to have nothing better to do than steal breakfast cereal from a delusional midget.

At any rate, the cereal has to be deteriorating organs at this point. As I sit in class writing "shit" in my college school books with a cinnamon-scented marker, I sometimes wonder how long it will be before ad campaigns speaking out against the ingestion of Lucky Charms begin to appear on television. I give it another year or two.

However, the more pressing matter remains. If they continue to pay marketing agents to think up new types of dehydrated marshmallow thingies, there will soon be no room in the box for the little oat pieces that tear apart the roof of your mouth as you chew. This is a big problem, folks. Now, I know what you're thinking: "But Drew, won't the marketing agents have enough foresight to prevent this very situation? They have to realize that doing so would bring society as we know it crumbling to its knees, where it would sexually pleasure the nation of Japan." Ah, but you seem to forget that these are the same people who decided that children would enjoy marshmallow pots of gold because they would feel wealthy for eating the cereal.

Screw nuclear armageddon, Lucky Charms will be the end of us all.

There are several stages to becoming a full-blown coffee drinker. Now, I know that I've just hit you with a lot to be mentally processed all at once, so I'll give you a moment to let it sink in. Okay. There's a natural progression, more or less. Have you recently become concerned that you, or perhaps a loved one, are on the road to becoming a heavy coffee drinker? Well, if you've already begun to drink a cup of joe a day, it's too late for you. However, you may still have some time to prepare for your inevitable fate. With that in mind, read on to determine at what stage of the affliction you currently reside.

The first stage begins around the junior or senior year of high school for most, and even as late as freshmen year of college for some. You've been up studying all night, and it's taken its toll on your energy reserves. But there's no time for sleep now; you've got a test to take in mere minutes given by a teacher who has been known to fail anyone arriving late on the day that a test has been scheduled. What do you do? You shuffle towards the school cafeteria, and grab yourself a cup of mocha, or perhaps even a french-vanilla blend. After all, regular coffee tastes like crap. You can't comprehend how anyone could possibly drink that stuff.

Over time, similar situations continue to arise, and it's become a mocha a day for you. But that lousy chocolate mix just isn't doing it anymore; you need something with a little more kick. Despite your previous thoughts, you decide to reach for the regular, caffienated blend. With enough sugar and cream it's bearable, and yet again the aromatic brown liquid has come to your aid.

Of course, adding all of that cream and sugar slowly grows on your already-frayed nerves. You've got a lot on your mind and much to accomplish, who wants to bother with the inclusion of cream? A few packets of sugar is plenty; you've grown acustomed to the taste anyhow.

Beyond this point, you are in the latter stages of the infection. Time is running thin. Make amends with those of whom you've angered or simply grown apart from. Watch plenty of televangelists so that you can find Jesus without having to leave the comfort of your home. For soon you will find that so much sugar isn't necessary. The packets you add will decrease in quantity by each passing week.

And then, all too soon, you'll be drinking your coffee black. It's funny because it's true, bitch.

I love this country. For many reasons, really, but more for its complete lack of common intelligence and perception than anything else. An excellent example would be the causes for which celebrities fight for. Either heading up or being an active member in some form of organization, they are applauded and showered with praise for the bold stand which they have opted to take. Now, don't get me wrong, I have absolutely nothing against believing in something positive and constructive. Personally, I try to avoid anything that would qualify as either. But that's just because I've been left hateful and bitter thanks to all of the young children who have traipsed across my gorgeous lawn despite the sign I put up specifically forbidding it.

What I find rather laughable are the causes for which celebrities support. They're completely asinine, and really go without being said. You've got, like, "Stars Against the Sodomization of Young Children." And yes, that's an exaggeration intended to be humorous. Please do not write me inquiring as to how you can become a member of such a noble association. Certainly, it's good to be against such activity, but is there really somebody out there who is going to get livid, leap to their feet, and shout, "Dammit, I'm for the sodomization of young children"?

It's a classic example of "lack of incrimination due to lack of opinionation." Politicians use it all of the time, but they aren't really important anyway, so I don't feel like citing examples. Who gives a crap about the people who are running this country? The viewpoints of those who star in this nation's fine sitcoms are far more important.

You've got to love the Japanese. They're the single most level-headed and industrious nation on the face of the planet. They're hard workers, and they take their education far more seriously than any American that I know of. And yet, despite all of this, they can look at three-foot tall midgets with green hair and think, "Yeah, that's an excellent representation of the human figure."

Of course, everything of that nature is a product of a rich and historical culture. A culture which America's influence is working slowly and covertly to dissolve, eventually transforming Japan into another territory. It seems like the best way to go, as trying to overtake Japan in the business arena has proven fruitless, and America doesn't want to hang Japan upside down to shake all of the spare change out of its pockets if it doesn't have come to that. After all, the American military is currently stretched rather thin; there's a lot of Aspirin factories in third world countries that are really asking for it. I'm not trying to diss America or anything. Just because I lose thirty percent of my paycheck to taxation doesn't mean that I'm irate. Far from it, in fact. I would've just wasted that money, anyhow. At least now I can rest assured that it's going towards something which is completely myserious to me. I assume it must be something good.

Getting back to the point, or lack thereof, Japan also produces anime. Like it or not, such films are cartoons. And yet, they are, on the whole, far more thought-provoking and filled with underlying meaning than the lion's share of American movies. There's something almost humorous in seeing a green-haired midget wax eloquant about life and its deeper meaning.

Naturally, there's a lot more to Japan than I've mentioned in this short piece of writing. From what I've been told, they even speak some strange language other than English. Wacky.

Closing Comments

Are you still with me after all of that? Well, I'm certainly glad to hear it. I look forward to your spiteful criticisms and hate mail. But just to assure that tomorrow's column will be back to status quo, here's a good ol' fashioned topic comin' atcha.

Now that some more concrete information has been revealed regarding Chrono Cross, what are your overall opinions thus far? What looks like it will be intruiging, and what looks simply lame? And what will the game have to do right as well as avoid doing to impress you when it is finally released? It's a pretty broad topic, I know, so I anticipate a whole slew of sexy, sexy letters. Have fun, my little chihuahuas.

-Drew Cosner