Reid About It

Pat Robertson, televangelist and metaphorical snake-handler, got some unwanted attention lately when he called for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. Robertson has since apologized, and said he was misquoted.

On his own TV show.

That irony is for later, we can come back to it. I'd rather take a look at what Robertson is saying in his attempt to not appear to be an insane nutball, which is somewhat akin to Carrottop refusing to acknowledge he's a prop comic.

What amazes me about the situation is the lengths people will go to absolve themselves of their own actions. Robertson says he's sorry, and he was misquoted.

Well, which is it, slappy? Did you say it and you're sorry, or did you not say it and you're angry you were misquoted by yourself? Pick an answer, and stick with it. Don't just unleash the avalanche of blame-shifting, either own up to it or sue somebody.

Because right now all you're saying is "I never said that, and I'm sorry for saying it." I know most of the time your celestial shareholders love it when you talk out of your ass like that, but you've got to step up and make sense when you're talking to those of us in the real world.

Another sign that Hollywood is not only the land of fragile relationships, but that it appreciates irony on a Shakespearian level. Eddie Murphy is getting divorced.

Not sure if his wife, Nicole, has a plan for the divorce, but I think pretty much anyone who ever saw "Raw" has a single word of advice for her.

I mean, how bad does that stink to have built your career around a routine about losing everything in a divorce, and then your wife leaves you? If this marriage could survive transexual hookers and Pluto Nash, I thought it was as solid as bedrock.

I'd like to start this column by saying that I'm very sorry for what has happened today. I'd like to thank my wife, Jill, for her devotion, and my daughter, Emily, for her love, as well as my teammates for standing by me in this difficult time.

When I spoke before Congress this year and vehemently denied using steroids, I was being truthful. I have no idea where my recent positive steroid test came from, nor do I have any knowledge of how an illegal supplement best known as a steroid that causes horses' hearts to explode came to be in my system. My trainer regularly gives me supplements he finds discarded at the Belmont, perhaps that is where it originated.

While on that subject, I regret telling the state trooper that there was nothing in my trunk. What I should have said was, "There's nothing in my trunk that I personally packed." I certainly understand his confusion at finding sixty pounds of heroin left there by a friend of mine who had borrowed my car recently.

Earlier this month, I testified before a grand jury that I had no knowledge as to the whereabouts of Natalie Holloway. Last night while serving as a guest on The Nancy Grace Show, I apparently blurted out the location of her body. I have no idea how that knowledge came to me. I have our team psychologist looking into that, and also have a certified psychic examining the situation.

When I gave a sworn statement that I was home on the evening of August 2nd, I meant every word. However, I can see where my neglect in mentioning the morning trip to Laredo for a breakfast of PCP and underage hookers could cause some concern. I stress that keeping that part out of the public eye was never my intention, and merely an oversight. I have lost my Palm Pilot, and am having difficulty recreating certain day's activities.

There has been some confusion over some of my business dealings, and I regret that. My involvement with a line of devices commonly used to bypass drug tests comes at an unfortunate time, I'll admit that. The makers of The Original Whizzinator were looking for a celebrity endorser, and I needed some money to settle a gambling debt.

Did I say gambling debt? I meant, I had spent most of my money gambling that a new wing for my church would help neighborhood youths escape their hard street lives and become productive citizens. Just want to make sure the press does not again misquote me.

In any case, I'll stress that I have never, ever used the Whizzinator to escape detection on a drug test. Again, the company using my name and likeness on their new "Piss-Be-Clear" product is merely an unfortunate coincidence, especially given the timing of their new ad campaign.

My arrangement with the Columbia CD Club has come into question, which I'd like to address personally right now. I did not intentionally enter into any agreement, and I don't see why I should have to pay for an album by Yellowcard that I did not order, especially when I don't even know who Yellowcard is. I don't think I should be held responsible for a "Do Not Send Selection Of The Month" card that was clearly lost in the mail.

I would like to again thank my family and friends for standing by me through this terrible time. I want to again stress to my fans that I have never tried to deceive any of you, and apologize profusely to anyone let down by these unfortunate coincidences.

The sports world was shocked this week, when formerly nice guy Rafael Palmiero was suspended for being chock-full of steroids. Raffy testified before Congress five months ago, vehemently denying any use of steroids ever in what has become more ironic than Vince Neil wearing a "No Fat Chicks" t-shirt. Palmiero said he had no idea how the steroid got into his body. Here are a few clues, Raffy.

• If your nutritional supplement comes in a jar with a picture of an animal, a bulldozer, or Jose Canseco on it, it's a steroid.
• If the serving instructions include the phrase "jammed in your ass," it's a steroid.
• If the only time you can buy it is when you play a preseason game in Mexico, it's a steroid.
• If the guy who turned you onto it your rookie year is already dead, it's a steroid.
• If the product's slogan is "Hulk Smash," it's a steroid.
• If everytime you take it, you have the urge to beat up the next person you see, even if it's just you in your mirror, it's a steroid.
• If it's marketed by Vince McMahon, it's a steroid.
• If after using the product for a month, you have to replace your batting helmet with a fruit basket, it's a steroid.

Now it comes out that Palmiero didn't take a supplement, but actually a steroid associated with racehorses. Nice. Now I have to point out that Palmiero has had more stolen bases than Secretariat and Seattle Slew put together.

Well, logic has returned to life. No longer will I have to hear people with bad breath tell me how simply eating bacon can make me live longer. The Atkins Diet is officially dead.

At one point, the Atkins revolution was everywhere, just one step short of becoming the new Scientology. Anyone who dared point out the natural fallacy of thinking you could lose weight by eating nothing but sausage and meatloaf was shouted down.

"This is the new way," they'd bellow, and scarf down a triple-hamburger with no bun. "The face of proper nutrition has been changed forever," they would proclaim while eating a dozen eggs and eliminating all fresh fruit from their houses. "That old way of diet is old and outdated," they'd summarize as the smell of death wafted from their mouths, and they ran to the toilet to rid themselves of enough meaty remains to render a submarine uninhabitable.

Calling this diet the "Atkins craze" was a perfect description of it. The disciples were so sucked in by the prospect of eating semi-normally and still losing weight, they became completely irrational. Giving up fruit, pasta, and bread in favor of eating like a Puma, and expecting the weight to just fall off of your body is not logical.

You want to lose weight, you eat less and exercise. You do not eat fast food burgers without the bun, and pretend you're eating Soylent Green.

There were immediate results, as people did lose weight briefly. So what? Crystal Meth is an excellent diet aid if you're willing to take it long enough to rot out your teeth. You don't see a lot of fat guys on Cops, do you?

I'm not sure if Jim Jones included nutritional guidelines in his plan to bring his followers to Jonestown, but it wouldn't surprise me if he told them the way to heaven was lined with pork chops. They would have lined up and drank the Kool-Aid happily.