Again I offer unsolicited opinions on unrelated subjects in no particular order.

It’s amazing how many people apparently believe in reincarnation and want to come back as a common housefly.

How many times have you heard this: “Boy, I’d loved to have been a fly on the wall.” There’s no guarantee they’d even be on a wall. They might reconsider too late, once watching life go by from a fly strip.

The funniest commercial of 2010 was the “Could switching to Geico save you 15 percent on car insurance? Does a…?”

There’s the woodchucks chucking the angry farmer’s wood, the ex-Marine sergeant, insensitive therapist and the little piggy in the back seat singing “wee, wee, wee” all the way home. They’re all good. But the true classic is: “Was Abe Lincoln honest?”

To recap: Mary Todd Lincoln asks Abe a question that has left all great men in history momentarily frozen in fear: “Does this dress make my backside look big?”

Abe considers his answer for a painfully long pause, then holds his finger and thumb an inch apart before sheepishly answering, “Perhaps just a…” That’s all he got out. A furious Mary was storming toward the door.

A past girlfriend once asked me that same question at the Big Bear Store in Billings about a pair of bicycle shorts she had tried on. I took the same tortured pause as Abe before answering, “Ya know, everyone’s butt looks bigger in spandex.” She actually broke down crying right there in the crowded store and nothing I could say could turn back time. “Honest Doug” was in serious trouble that day, my friends.

The most irritating commercial is that red-headed, perky, yappy lady fielding customer questions about Progressive Insurance. Her grinning chirps are fingernails on a blackboard, and I’ve actually thought about canceling my Progressive car insurance if they don’t cancel her!

Why don’t serial killers ever kill each other instead of innocent victims? A scumbag-on-scumbag murder would be the feel-good story of the year. Just imagine: “Chicago businessman John Wayne Gacy was found bound and bludgeoned to death in his home early today. A group calling themselves the ‘Manson Family’ is in custody.”

But evil seems to have taken an unwritten oath: “Kill only innocent people who don’t deserve to die.”

And why are immoral, sadistic creeps such great natural athletes? Why are such gifts wasted on their kind? Just before the Sugar Bowl, I read an article about the shady Ohio State quarterback, Tyrelle Pryor. I don’t care so much that he tested positive for various drugs during his career and sold priceless Ohio State memorabilia.

But after reading he was Michael Vick’s biggest cheerleader — even wearing Vick’s number around campus immediately after the sickening details of his dog-fighting career — I unashamedly rooted for Pryor to get injured in the bowl game. Not just a sprained ankle, you understand, but hurt pretty badly — bad enough that a dog might think, “Ooh, that’s gotta hurt! Glad I’m not him.”

I’m not a very forgiving man when it comes to animals tortured. The football world can sing all the praises of his redeemed life that makes them feel better. All I see is an athletic sociopath who finally figured out which sport pays best.

Top Ramen soup is a truly-underrated godsend. What’s not to love about Top Ramen? T.R. is completely unpretentious. T.R. says, “Hey, I am what I am … just soft noodles swimming in a tasty sauce, yet I’m not at all offended if you add your own ingredients. For a recession-busting 29 cents, I’ll give you a steaming, filling meal that will make your palate salute. I’m not in it for the money; I just like making folks happy and helping college students save tuition. I am Top Ramen. If you love me, eat me. If not, ignore me. I’ll keep, so should you change your mind, I’ll be right here on the shelf waiting.”

I hereby challenge all readers to a Jumbles contest. Yes, I have found my gift and it is solving those jumbled word riddles in the newspaper each day. I have a nearly perfect record over several years, more times than not, even solving the riddle without the aid of the circled, hint letters. If you care to accept my challenge along with a small wager, send me a garbled e-mail with all the letters jumbled. I’ll figure it out!

It occurred to me one day: I’m a writer who seldom reads, a Christian who rarely gets up for church, and a roofer scared of heights. Heck, continuing the pattern, why not become a gigolo?

If you live in Cody, no matter what day you read this, you’ve probably noticed: It’s windy as all heck out there today.