Hello, and welcome back! Today Sixtynined presents a very special interview with someone (or something) very dear to the hearts of many of you: GOD. Sixtynined has gone to great lengths to contact the Supreme Being. This ain't no Allah or Yaweh or Great Spirit. We're talkin' the one and only Creator, so give it up for GOD!

Sixtynined:

God, thanks for being here today.

God:

It's my pleasure.

Sixtynined:

You're not as big as I thought you'd be.

God:

I was on the Atkins for a while until I found out that Atkins is going belly up...hehe, get it, belly up.

Sixtynined:

That's lame. Actually, I wasn't talking about your physical presence. I was referring to your aura.

God:

Well, you know, things are tough all over with all the terrorism and starvation and video games. Evil is quite trendy these days, and I'm having a hard time in the ratings.

Sixtynined:

Yeesh! I hear ya. I can't even get a hundred hits a month on this Web site.

God:

Put yer violin away, man! I got a measly fourteen hits last month at mine http://www.god.com/

Sixtynined:

Whaddaya expect, gramps? No T&A, no cursing, no Howard Stern links...you're doomed. Allah is rising.

God:

Allah has nothing. I am the one Supreme Being. It says so in the Bible.

Sixtynined:

Yeah, we're all sitting around reading our Bibles, while American Idol is on. C'mon, dude! Ryan Seacrest has more authority than you these days.

God:

You're all going to Hell.

Sixtynined:

Geez, somebody has anger management issues.

God:

I do not.

Sixtynined:

Oh yeah? Does the word TSUNAMI ring a bell?

God:

Give it up. I had nothing to do with that.

Sixtynined:

Ok, then who allowed baseball to be tainted by Steroids?

God:

That was Satan.

Sixtynined:

How does that work? Aren't you more powerful than Satan?

God:

It's complicated. We have, how shall I say, certain jurisdictions.

Sixtynined:

I don't get it. You're the Supreme Being. Aren't you in charge of everything including Satan and Hell?

God:

Of course, but even Satan has some autonomy because I granted it to him on account of my benevolence. If I were you, son, I wouldn't be so concerned. You're a mere mortal with very limited intelligence. Trust me. You don't want to know more.

Sixtynined:

Ok, well on that note, it's been swell talking to you, God. Good luck with the masses and the ratings. Amen.

God:

I'm the greatest!

note: this was obviously a fictional interview with God and did not, of course, ever take place, so muzzle yer lawyah dawgs.

In shocking news, Sixtynined has learned that Mohammed Sidique Khan, the eldest of the London suicide bus bombers, had called someone associated with the Islamic Center in Queens, NY (obviously prior to the bombings). In the picture, Kahn is shown wearing a white baseball cap. Since Sixtynined's headquarters are located less than an hour from Queens (and hence Laguardia Airport, Shea Stadium, and the USTA National Tennis Center where the U.S. Open will be played next month), Sixtynined decided to look into this troubling phone call further by contacting world renowned psychic Dionne Warwick to help with the investigation.

Sixtynined:
Dionne, have you contacted Mohammed yet?

DW:
Shut up, nigger, I'm tryin' to concentrate.

Sixtynined:
Fine!

DW:
Oh spirit of Mohammed Sidique Khan, please come to us today. The Mets are playing the Dodgers at Shea later on, and we need to know if your people plan to blow the shit up.

MSK:
Are you the real Dionne Warwick, Grammy Award winner and chanteuse of hits such as "I'll Never Love This Way Again" and "Déjà Vu?"

Sixtynined:
Yeah, that's right, psycho, it's really her. She owed me a favor, so I hired her to contact you psychically.

MSK:
Who in the name of Allah are you?

Sixtynined:
I'm with the press.

MSK:
You are scum!

Sixtynined:
Anyhoo. Mohammed, why'd you have to go and blow stuff up on July 7th. That's my birthday, you know, 7/7/69.

MSK:
Oh, I'm so sorry. Did we mess up your birthday? You Americans are all the same. You live in this insular fantasy world where you imagine yourselves to be all-powerful saviors of all that is good and wholesome. As a result, you feel entitled to be worshipped by the rest of the world, and consequently you place yourselves at the center of it. A nation full of people with a Jesus complex.

Sixtynined:
Ok, thank you very much for that analysis, Carl Jung. Look, Mohammed, we just want to know if your group is planning any fireworks at Laguardia or Shea Stadium or, most importantly, at the USTA National Tennis Center between August 29 and September 11.

MSK:
The last day of the 2005 U.S. Open is September 11? That would be so sweet. Did I say that out loud?

Sixtynined:
So, Mohammed, as long as you're here, do you mind answering some fashion questions for us?

MSK:
Shoot!

Sixtynined:
How come you guys ditched the long beards and flowing robes for the London gig? That shit threw everyone off. Baseball caps and sneakers? That could be every dude in New York.

MSK:
Precisely. It's called Terror, dimwit. Did you want us to put out a bombing schedule on our Web site too?

Sixtynined:
Oh, I see, kind of like spontaneous performance art like you see in the streets of New York.

MSK:
Something like that. We like to give people the biggest bang for their buck.

Sixtynined:
Heh, heh. Good one, Mohammed. On that note, thanks for speaking with us today. We know that coming here from the dead is a long and grueling trip, and we appreciate it.

MSK:
Peace out.

note: this was obviously a fictional interview with Mohammed Sidique Khan and Dionne Warwick and did not, of course, ever take place, so muzzle yer lawyah dawgs.

Sixtynined was in Bedford, NY, the other day. This little town nestled in Westchester County is home to Martha Stewart's estate. By some simple twist of fate, Sixtynined ran into Martha at Bedford Bagels and Bakery where Sixtynined was purchasing the roast beef lunch special.

Sixtynined:
Martha, what the hell are you doing here? Aren't you on house arrest?

MS:
Puh-lease! This is Bedford, and I am the Queen of Bedford and all of New York state for that matter. I do whatever I like whenever I like. Don't believe everything you read in the Post.

Sixtynined:
Oh...ok...my mistake. So, um, why do you have a railroad tie attached to your ankle? Is that the latest couture or something?

MS:
That's right. Oprah sent it to me as a gift. Anyway, it was nice seeing you whoever you are. I have to run. I have lots of work to do to get ready for my new show on Sirius Satellite Radio.

Sixtynined:
Whoa! Slow down there, missy. What's your hurry?

MS:
Listen, dimwit, I am not some cyberhack who sits around all day making up stupid crap for his blog that no one reads. I have actual work to do. Do you know what that is?

Sixtynined:
Uh, vaguely. Isn't it that period of time between sleep and television during which I am grossly underpaid and dehumanized by people richer and more clever than myself.

MS:
Exactly. You're a dumb slob who can't even bake a pie. Life sucks for you. I, on the other hand, have built an empire from recycled twine. Gotta boogie.

Sixtynined:
Right on, Martha. Thanks for taking time out from your busy schedule. Don't let the man get you down.

MS:
Whatever.

note: this was obviously a fictional interview with Martha Stewart and did not, of course, ever take place, so muzzle yer lawyah dawgs.

K from New Mexico has asked Sixtynined how much an MP3 weighs. Sixtynined thinks that's a trick question, since an MP3 is a downloadable music file for which K seems to have a great affinity. He likes to play MP3s on his Muvo TX FM 1GIG MP3 Player for which he makes a very convincing sales pitch in an email to Sixtynined. He also seems to be quite fond of Gmail, Brueghel, and contrariness. Thanks, K!

Well, while I wait for informational requests to come in, I've decided to include some entertainment and, hopefully, some enlightenment by running this recent interview with adult film star Ron Jeremy. Enjoy, but remember, it ain't free to run this kind of quality shit, so don't be shy about picking up your wallet and sending me over some moo-lah. Without contributions from readers such as yourselves, these types of interviews would not be possible. Without further ado, I present to you Monsieur Ron Jeremy.

Sixtynined:
Hi, Ron. Wassup, dawg?

RJ:
Good day to you, sir.

Sixtynined:
Ron, it's not my style to mess around with a lot of BS, so let's get right down to the business.

RJ:
sure, no problem.

Sixtynined:
Ron, do you know anything about baseball?

RJ:
Absolutely nothing. I don't have time to follow baseball. I'm so busy with all my public appearances and movies and whatnot.

Sixtynined:
Hm. Ok, well there goes most of the interview. I thought I read somewhere that you were a huge fan. Oh well, I guess we'll just have to improvise from here on.

RJ:
Fine by me.

Sixtynined:
You do know what a home run is, right Ron? Riff on that, baby.

RJ:
Sure. It's when the linebacker makes a goal by punting the puck onto the green. It's worth four points.

Sixtynined:
Sure, Ron. Uh, let's move on to something else. Ron, is it true that you have one of the biggest gun collections in the entertainment industry?

RJ:
Absolutely not. I don't even own a gun.

Sixtynined:
Shit. This isn't going too well. Ok, um, how have Homeland Security measures affected you personally?

RJ:
Well, I really hate having to take my shoes off to get through security at the airport. I have short, stubby feet, and I'm very self-conscious about them.

Sixtynined:
Do you find that ironic?

RJ:
How do you mean?

Sixtynined:
Well, you've made a name for yourself by...oh forget it. What kinds of projects are you working on now?

RJ:
I'm working on a children's book about a nerdy boy who overcomes his shyness by...

Sixtynined:
Hate to cut you off, Ron, but we're all out time. Thanks for meeting with us today, and good luck with those stubby feet of yours.

note: this was obviously a fictional interview with Ron Jeremy and did not, of course, ever take place, so muzzle yer lawyah dawgs.

Some thoughts about Sixtynined. I've been trying to think of ways to give this site some purpose. Some of you out there in cyberspace (if there actually are any of you out there reading this) may be familiar with Sixtynined's first incarnation, which dealt with some useless world events, mindless celebrity gossip, sex jokes, dark humor, historical events from 1969, idiocy, and more. I deleted the site after a few weeks because it was contributing unwanted psychic stress to my mentalacity (you can look that up, but you won't find anything). Now I've resurrected the site because I need a writing outlet once again, and I like the title "Sixtynined." It implies a certain, how shall I say, mutuality. It's about giving and receiving. I like to think of Sixtynined as my way of giving to the world. Along those lines, I've decided that Sixtynined will be an offering of information from me to you, an informational source of your choosing. You need some information, any information--directions to the beach, the names of the best delis in New York, the average height of pygmies, a psychic prediction, a stock tip--we'll Sixtynine. Remember, the key to Sixtynined is mutuality. This ain't no free ride, baby. That said, I am open to many different types of exchanges (although monetary exchanges are my preference). The idea is that we can network cooperatively. So, if your job is sucking you dry, or the kids won't let you get away, or you just want to avoid technology for a few days, let Sixtynined do the searching for you. When you've got the information you need, remember to tell you your friends, "I Sixtynined."

I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd try to put a few sentences together. I was thinking of Dave Eggers as I tossed and turned in my bed, not because I'm hot for him or anything but because I read something he wrote in the Sunday Times. It was some kind of literary inside joke thing that I couldn't understand, but it seemed humorous, and I've seen Eggers on Letterman and he seemed funny then. I was lying there thinking of writing Nick at the New Yorker about Eggers to find out what he thinks of Eggers' writing, whether it's worth reading. I was thinking of writing that Eggers seems like a wiseass, but a good kind of wiseass that you might want on your side. I probably won't write Nick. He probably doesn't have time to contemplate shit like that. I was also lying there thinking I had never written out my "window of funniness" theory that I was thinking of trying to sell to a publication last fall when we had just gotten to New York. I was delirious then about New York because it was all so new and so wonderful, and it seemed so full of promise, and I wanted to try my hand at being a stand-up comic. It was like a six week phase or something, this whole if-I-can-make-here-I'll-make-it-anywhere romantic notion of just having arrived in the city on a bus from the Midwest or some shit like that. Anyway, I was drunk in my psyche, and I was loosely studying the great comics from Lenny Bruce on, reading about their lives and renting VHS tapes of Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy and George Carlin. Eventually, I got to Jerry Seinfeld and thinking about the show "Seinfeld", and I realized that the creators stopped the show, not because (as Seinfeld later stated in interviews) they wanted to go out on a high note, but because they were flat out of material. It happens to almost all comics. They're really funny for a period, what I call the "window of funniness", and then they're not. They're like athletes. They have a shelf life, except, unlike athletes, they start their careers a little later, usually in their late twenties or early thirties. Eddie Murphy was a rare exception who started his career at twenty. Funniness, like writing, doesn't seem to be the domain of child prodigies. You rarely see kids doing stand up or writing classic novels, maybe because both are based on experience rather than innate gifts. Oddly enough, though, with comedy, too much life experience seems to drain the comedy out of a person. Again, look at Eddie Murphy who hasn't been funny in years or Robin Williams. How did they go from being funny to being unfunny? None of the Seinfeld actors are funny anymore, and that includes Jerry. Let's face it...you don't walk away from 50 million dollars an episode if you can help it. I think the writers squeezed out as much juice as they could from their comic fruit. They probably wrote dozens of episodes in advance and had shows prepared for a year or two into the future. When there was nothing left in the tank, they quit.

I've invented something, something trivial and yet potentially financially rewarding. It's a bass fishing lure, and there has never been one like it...as far as I know. It's somewhat complicated (for a bass lure) mechanically, and I'll have to build it myself, slap it together, that is, with some crazy glue, small bits of plastic, and a shuttlecock.