Several years ago my wife’s employer–a multi-millionaire businessman–gifted us with an evening at Atelier, an exclusive bistro catering to the trendy and peculiar tastes of the upper crust in the nation’s capital. Atelier specializes in pairing marvelous wines with superb, cryogenic cuisine prepared by a bevy of highly skilled, hypermodern New Age chefs. Cryogenic cooking, to the uninitiated, means rendered sanitary by immersing in liquid nitrogen (compressed sea fog we later decided). The waiting time for a reservation is measured in months and a well-heeled sponsor is needed since you must produce notarized evidence of substantial net worth to obtain one.

I was born attached to the Catholic Church, with no avenue of escape and little chance of loosening its stranglehold, for my mother was no ordinary woman; she was a Polish woman; neither was she an ordinary Catholic; she was Polish Catholic. As surely as corn dogs harden the arteries, Polish Catholicism, as manifest in women of my mother’s generation,hardens the brain until it becomes impervious to reason.

We are gathered here today to open the marriage of Darren and Linda Johnson. Darren and Linda, you’ve been married for 10 years and have three children, but you’re just not feeling the spark. Maybe you never were. And your sex life has been almost nonexistent for the past few years. Just look at Darren… This is not a man who has had sex in a very long time.

Tucker’s Honky-Taco is a worldwide fast food institution known not just for pioneering the assembly line guacamole production process, but also for being dedicated to social corporate responsibility by committing acts of benevolence when disaster strikes. That’s why when Hurricane Todd ravaged the southeastern seaboard from Piney Bluff, Georgia to Sawgrass, Florida a week ago, killing thousands, displacing millions, and causing billions of dollars in damage, Tucker’s Honky-Taco knew it was our civic duty to donate money to hurricane relief as long as you buy something from us.

1. Starve. Be a sizzling super model on a hunger strike. Not a crumb on your tongue. Not a sip past your lips.