I'm sure you've all grown accustomed to the lack of timeliness of my columns (not to mention the lack of original thought, coherence, readability, careful research, etc.). I'm sure you're even more tired of hearing me explain why my column is late, or missing, or sucks. On the other hand, if I tried to be more sensitive of your needs, to follow the crowd, so to speak, I'd undoubtedly be much more nattily dressed and I'd get more hot chicks.

And I'm sure you all would prefer I not reproduce.

So anyway, here's why LAST week's column was eerily similar to the one the week before:

I had to handle some SERIOUS shiznit.

Was I, or any of my friends or family, sick? Uh . . . no. (With the possible exception of coworker Mike P., who is on the upswing after having function restored to one of his lungs.)

Did someone pass away? Um . . . well, my boss's father. And he was, by all accounts, a hell of a guy. I doubt, however, that my grief was what prevented my column.

Was I donating my time to a worthy cause? Sort of. I was delaying my inevitable firing by working my ass off all last week, coupled with making a little extra bling by singing some church services, coupled with rehearsals for the Brandywine High School spring drama production, Hello, Dolly! So yeah, mofo, I had to handle my bidness wit' a quickness.

But now I'm back. To let you know. I can really shake it down. (By which I mean write an amusing column, chock full of witty anecdotes and hilarious prose. And which leads me to my next question: what do we mean when we say "Chock Full?" Consulting the Online Merriam-Webster Dictionary, I find that a "chock" is a small wedge-shaped block used to prevent a wheel from rolling, such as a wheel on a 1957 Desoto that you wish to keep from falling off the jackstand and embedding a FRAM oil filter in your skull. Clearly, being "Chock Full" involves filling a gas tank with premium coffee. No, I am not chock full of Chivas Regal.)

What was I working on, you ask? Simple. We have two HP-UX servers that have reached their CPU capacity, and so we simply built a new ServiceGuard cluster on two older machines and moved some of the applications over to them. Wow, how do you do that, you ask? Or at least I'd like to pretend you asked, since I can tell from here that your eyes have completely glazed over, your jaw has loosened, and your tongue is hanging out like that of a strangled Hutt. (Think Jabba, slowpoke, and try to keep up, 'cause I'm movin' fast like GREASED LIGHTNIN' and twice as shiny!)

Here's my topic for today: Stupid People That Don't Have Enough To Do. (You thought this column was gonna be over soon, dincha? Fat chance.)

Out in California, there's a young man named Greg Dervin. His panties are all in a bunch because he was circumsized when he was 8 days old, and he wants his foreskin back. Greg believes that circumcision is a form of genital mutilation and should be stopped. He has started a group named Students for Genital Integrity out at San Francisco State, which has spawned other chapters in Washington, D.C., and Phoenix, Arizona.

I'd really like to say I'm kidding. I'm not. Read about it here: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2003/03/09/LV30359.DTL

Clearly, this is a controversial subject. On the one hand, he has a point: if a child's parents announced that their religion demanded that they cut the left pinky toe off of all female children, and they had anecdotal medical evidence that showed that pinky toes are vestigial and useless, America would be in an uproar and the kids would be taken away and sent to a foster home to be abused and assemble Nikes for 50 cents a day. On the other hand, he's an idiot.

Is getting a degree at San Francisco State so easy that he has this much time to devote to publicity stunts? I imagine he'd be hard pressed to explain how not having a foreskin has prevented him from living a full life. The only plausible argument would be that he feels sex would be better if he had a foreskin, to which I reply: Yeah, and I'd be a much smarter person if I hadn't been forced to go to school all those years, with their mind control and alien inbreeding and putting benzine in the milk! Gloyvin!

90% of "activists" these days are "active" only because they've never listened when someone close to them said "Get over it." Mad because people are eating animals instead of protecting them and loving them and buying them cute little hats? Eat a block of tofu and get over it. Mad because men want to have a few places where they can play golf and drink gin and not have any chicks around? Start your OWN friggin' club and get over it. Want to outlaw guns because some recent parolee stole a shotgun and robbed a bank with it? Buy a security system and GET THE HELL OVER IT.

Let's all form a pact. If, in the future, we find ourselves raising children (God forbid), let's agree that if we find them getting all twisted up over some perceived injustice or political stance, smack them upside the head and tell them to get over it. That's what my parents did to me, and I'm TOTALLY normal because of it.

Any criticism about my column can be directed to suckit@matthearn.com. Pictures of naked chicks can be sent to column@matthearn.com.