As you know, my head occasionally gets cluttered with unexpressed thoughts, preventing anything new from entering.

These intrusive, scofflaw ruminations must be purged, via sharing, before my head can once again be empty. Out with the old; in with the new.

After this routine brain maintenance, some will say, “TMI; who cares if you bought a new toilet plunger? We’d thank you to keep your pointless points to yourself!”

That’s foolhardy thinking since one never knows when one of these disjointed observances might strike you as useful and/or brilliant? Let the purge begin:

• If investigators confiscated my computer hard-drive, as they do in unsolved crimes, I wouldn’t be worried about pornography being found, but a website, “How to Analyze Poop” that I Googled recently will appear.

Without invasive details as to why, let’s just say a few health concerns and dietary changes prompted it. And yes, I really did buy a new plunger (and she’s a beaut — a Bellows D24).

But if police saw that on my computer, they might shriek, “What the bloody hell? Pornography I could understand — he’s a single guy who rarely gets out — but this is just SICK!”

Like anyone caught red-handed, I’d protest too much.

• The question of the day was: “Where were you when JFK was killed?”

I remember like yesterday: It was during second-grade recess when a young tough named Danny Krope threw a padlock high into the air and I looked up just as it crashed onto my forehead. (This, I believe, this set the stage for a lifetime of “Doug Luck.”)

Back inside, as old Mrs. Fender bandaged my head, she tearfully told us the president had just been shot. It’s certainly of historic significance that JFK and a young DDB were bleeding from the head at the exact same moment in time. How many people can say THAT?

• President LBJ’s vice president was “HHH” (Hubert H Humphrey), but I’m now using HHH in a totally different context. I’ve never been a fan “LOL” (“Laughing Out Loud”). It is trite, deceptive (few are actually laughing at all) and grossly overused.

Yet it can be dangerous not to use it in text or email, where light-hearted quips can be errantly received as insults. So from now on, I’ll be using “HHH” instead of LOL when signifying “I’m joking.”

HHH obviously means “Hardy Har Har,” made famous by fat bus driver Ralph Kramden, who tragically died when he crashed into a picket line of striking sewer workers, ironically killing his best friend, Ed Norton. Do you remember where you were when Norton was killed?

• They just don’t come any purtier than country queen Carrie Underwood. What a face; what a figure.

When she coos the Monday Night Football song, my football obsession takes back seat for a moment. I’d give everything I own just to make out with her for 10 minutes. Well, maybe not everything, but at least $50 — that’s $5 a minute, which I think is more than fair.

• I find it troubling when someone I really like and respect, likes and respects someone I loathe.

I love watching Bill O’Reilly, but his love affair with that phony Dennis Miller mystifies me. I see through him as a conservative imposter, why can’t “Billy?” (which Miller calls him at every opportunity as if bragging “We’re best friends, ya know”).

Ditto with Al Simpson and the irrepressible, effervescent (NOT!) Dick Cheney.

I love Al; cannot stand Dick. The only thing worse than Cheney is a Cheney woman. Lynne and Liz are venomous, rabid shrews I tell ya. But as Billy O’Reilly says, “… but I could be wrong.” I’m not though, and the Cheneys and Miller are NOT welcome at my place for dinner.

• “The Year’s Homeliest Politician” award goes again to the painfully unsightly Henry Waxman. Bald as a bulb, eyebrows like caterpillars, nostrils you could park a VW in and ears like a VW with its door wide open, he has no equal. Mitch McConnell is no slouch, but Waxman fell from an Ugly Tree and hit every single branch!

• 95-year-old Billy Graham is my lifetime spiritual hero, even though it was Oral Roberts’ tent crusades my parents took us to as children.

Even in my drunken “lost years” of my 20s, I seldom missed his telecasts and still watch them repeated on TBN. If asked “If you could have dinner with one person in history, who would you choose?” I’d say Billy Graham.

(As for breakfast though, it would still be Carrie Underwood).

• And in the immortal words of JFK, “Ask not what you can do for your family, but what your family can do for you.” (HHH).