- I think that, in order to be on television as yourself and not acting in a role as someone else, there's some kind of stipulation that says that you have to be a moron. I mean, Anna Nicole Smith. Case in point. And John Madden. Despite his legacy in football, the man makes the stupidest remarks as a commentator. Watching my Patriots school the Steelers was an exercise in restraint since I kept looking around for sharp objects to drill through the TV whenever Madden opened his mouth. At least Monday Night Football didn't keep Dennis Miller around. - Seeing as how this is Los Angeles, land of the beautiful people (especially the section I live in), I would've thought there'd be a city ordinance against things like the drunken old man stumbling up my street yelling swears at everyone and everything at midnight. I was apparently wrong. - Until a few years ago, I was thoroughly convinced that the song "Hotel California" by the Eagles was about the Betty Ford Clinic. I mean, look at these sample lyrics: So I called up the Captain/Please bring me my wine/He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since 1969.' And then there's these sections too: We are all just prisoners here of our own device/And in the master's chambers/They gathered for the feast/They stab it with their steely knives/But they just can't kill the beast -- and this final part at the end of the song -- You can check out any time you like/But you can never leave. Then I found out a couple of years ago that the song was written before the Betty Ford Clinic even opened. So much for my satisfaction at coming up with the song's "inner meaning." Don't I feel like the dumbass now.