I admit it: The “Five Dollar Footlong” commercials are better than anything you’ll find in my body of work since I’ve been at Subway.

And no, I’m not including the new ones with the construction workers and the giggling office girls; those ones are like poop in my mouth - which is to say, while they don't totally displease me, they don't live up to my expectations either.

So, it is no great surprise that Subway has stopped calling me lately. I kind of feel like that fat kid in your dorm back in college, the one with the massive porn collection; all the guys pretended to be friends with him so they could borrow his videos, but then once they ran out of new videos to borrow, they went back to ignoring the boy. But the boy shall not forget the wrongs that were done to him. No, the boy shall remember...

This new year is not even two weeks old and already it smells like a very bad one for you.

• You have lost your job because of collapse in Western capitalism.
• You have lost your wife because you have lost your job. She only want your money, not your hairy ass.
• You have lost the hair on your ass because of malnutrition. No wife means no hot meals.

So what to do? I'll tell you what to do - JOIN AL QAEDA! When you join Al Qaeda, you enjoy the best perks of any insurgent group in whole world.

Look, people--I've done all that I can.  The yield on T-bills is at zero, which means the government will give you money for nothing. Just promise to give it back later, okay?

People keep crying for some kind of stimulus, but for Christ's sake, there is such a thing as too much stimulus. Like a 16-year-old with a Playboy magazine and a six-pack of Vaseline Intensive Rescue Healing Hand Cream. Enough already!

So my new proposal, subject to Barney Frank yelling at me, is for everybody to go back to something that makes sense. Barter.

I give you a cow, you give me an acre of wheat. I give my wife a David Yurman Twisted Cable bracelet, she gives me a . . . never mind.

Dear readers,

This is Vladimir Putin, Ruler of the Universe writing to you now.  Maybe you have heard that a young upstart will be taking the seat as President of the United States next week.  Maybe you are also asking yourself, "what's the big deal?" 

You're saying, look at both of their bodies.  Compare and contrast them.  Putin has huge muscles.  His chest is firm and imposing.  His nipples jut out like beautiful pink mountains.  His biceps are twin phenoms, and no one is sure why or how they became so powerful, similar to the Olsen Twins. 

Obama has saggy, black boobs.  He looks like a girly man frolicking in the sea, about to pee his pants.  He has no muscles, and is about to tumble over from the tiny waves approaching.