Don't get me wrong. I'm no more bloodthirsty than . . . um . . . well, before I get myself into trouble, let's just say I've never personally killed anyone. Anyway, of course killing people is not a very pleasant option. What many people seem to forget, however, is that sometimes it's the least of several evils. Let's go over our choices at this point:

• 1: Invade and try to remove Saddam and his Party Posse from power.
• 2: Do nothing and hope he doesn't develop nukes.
• 3: Keep inspecting a country that's over twice the size of Idaho, in the hopes that we catch Saddam red handed with a little baggie of anthrax in his secret stash, along with a couple of spliffs and some old Rolling Stones bootlegs.

Anyone that uses "No Blood For Oil!" as his or her only excuse for avoiding war is technically right, but narrow minded. Cheap gas isn't a very good reason to be killing folks, but it's not the only reason we're fighting. One of my buddies wondered what our reasons really were, and remarked that they keep changing: first we're fighting for national security, then we're fighting for oil, then we're liberating the Iraqi people, then because we want to try and protect Israel, etc. Which is it? he wanted to know.

Um...can't it be all of the above? The argument against "fighting for oil" is rather silly when you realize that protecting our dino-juice interests are merely a very small happy side effect of an effort to rid the world of a very bad man and the evil things he does. At the beginning of WWII, nobody complained much about us trying to protect our European trading interests; we were more concerned with keeping Hitler from taking over the world and killing everybody. We're repeating history here, people. Can't we trouble ourselves to study it a little harder?

Anyway, that's enough of that. This column's running late as it is, but last week's column was so long, I find I have to live up to it or I'll never forgive myself or my wife will return home from her business trip to find I've bludgeoned myself with a Playstation controller and the cats have eaten my tenderest parts.

You may have noticed from the previous run-on sentence, my wife is out of town. In Florida, specifically. Those of you who know me best might think that I'd take the opportunity to sit around in my boxers, drinking heavily, playing PS2, etc. That's SO not true. I'm also watching a Celine Dion concert. But after THAT, the PS2 commences. Not to mention the drinking and nakedness.

My aforementioned buddy J-Rod has pointed out to me that I might be turning gay. Let's check the symptoms:

• Owns leather pants: check
• Watching Celine Dion concert, even without wife around to make me: check
• Number of dudes banged: 0, but I've only banged one chick, and that's hardly a statistical population from which you can infer anything.
• Gets International Male catalogs: check
• Number of Justin Timberlake mp3s: 4
• Number of Justin mp3s if you count the NSync ones: 7

One last note: I'm old. Most of my friends and I turn 25 this year, and I got a bit depressed the other day. Not because I'm terribly old (I mean, in reality, I'm in the prime of my life), but - well, let's give some background.

For the last few months I've been working at my old high school, doing vocal direction of the spring musical, Hello Dolly. The show was last weekend; the kids were great, easily the most talented group of high school performers with whom I've ever worked.

On Monday I realized that, not too long ago I was of an age where, had I been attractive, I would've been taking girls of this age on dates. But now I'm, if not a father figure, then certainly a skeevy-young-uncle-figure. Before long, even were I ripped and handsomely-complected, even college-age chicas won't give me a second look. ::sigh::

I guess it's a quarter-life crisis. I should buy a Ferrari.