So since this whole "living every day in at least relative fear for your life" thing started, we wake up every morning and put on CNN. A few thoughts have occurred to me as I munch my bagel or my scintillating mix of Corn Flakes and Frosted Flakes (a devilish mix which summons up bizarre mascot ideas in which Tony the Tiger must be cross-bred with that green chicken Corn Flake thing. The whole "weakening of food" principle has loomed large in my life as I have gotten older: Watering down the Orangina with some mineral water, tempering the sugar-bang of cereal with analagous, blander and altogether less pleasing flakes. It is my firm belief that I am not backing away from the sensation of full-powered food items, but merely decreasing the frequency with which I sample their delights, with the objective that when i do eat a bag of Pop Rocks, say, my head will become fully rotational from the sugar rush and I will be able to join a traveling freak show, a career choice about which I have so often fantasized.)

1. All CNN anchorwomen are slowly gravitating towards the exact same haircut.
2. Why do I care about Paula Zahn's haircut?
3. I really really really want to play RISK on the giant map they have over there at CNN. Can you imagine the rush of power as you stand in a ten foot long representation of Kamchatka, eyeing the west coast of North America with a steely glare as you boldly stride across a huge plastic representation of the dotted line across the Pacific?
4. I find myself distracted by the people who have their desks directly behind the anchors' desk. What are their lives like? They must know that they are visible. I bet their friends call them up while they're in-shot and have them make some secret signal. I have experienced momentary thrills of excitement when I have caught one of them in a secret on-air bite of a danish, and I once saw two of them engaged in a lively discussion which was obviously in no way work-related. They're like the CNN Elves, cobbling together the stories for the clueless anchors, ready for a heartfelt delivery in which the anchors approximate sincerity and act like authority figures, when we know they're really only worried about their outfit.
5. They have some strange commercials on CNN. I don't know if it's because the spots are extremely cheap, but they seem to take an almost sadistic glee in running the commercial for the 15 year-old opera singer's greatest hits ad infinitum.
6. Wolf Blitzer = No longer the cool and hip dude he once was, now relegated to a supporting role, like some crazed and disfigured Phantom of the Opera, lurking in the highest CNN scaffolding and soiling Larry King's wardrobe in a sad plea for help.
7. I promise not to watch CNN tomorrow. I really mean it this time.