By Tony Kornheiser, The Washington Post

Sunday, July 22, 2001

Just the other morning I was watching The Today Show when that hot tomato Katie Couric said something like, Coming up: Were going to focus on the ongoing stem cell debate.

The ongoing stem cell debate?

Omigod, which side was I on, stems or cells?

Tragically, I not only didnt know a stem cell debate was raging all over America – I didnt even know what a stem cell was. Stems and seeds, yes. That rang a bell. (Oh, were down to stems and seeds again. Bummer.) But for stem cell, I was drawing a blank (see above).

So I opened the newspaper and began reading about stem cells. And there was all this stuff about surplus embryos and frozen embryos.

And I said: Yikes! Check, please.

Thats what Americans are talking about this summer, frozen embryos? Excuse me, what happened to frozen margaritas?

Its not like I dont think stem cell research is important. Im sure its important. (Heres whats not important: Jurassic Park III. Whos idea was that? What next, Jurassic Park IV, where the dinosaurs fight the Russian, Ivan Drago?) Its not that Im unsympathetic to stem cells and all they can do – especially as a border in your flower bed. Its that I have finally accepted that I cant be up to speed on everything. Its a matter of prioritizing. If I have to be up to speed on Gary Condit (and believe me, its a full-time gig waiting for him to come out of his apartment every day wearing that frozen smile), stem cells just have to go.

My problem isnt stem cells, its a lack of brain cells. I cluttered my brain with batting averages when I was a little kid, and rock-and-roll lyrics when I was a teenager. The last 30 years or so Ive tried to learn about adult things like 401(k) accounts, runny French cheeses and erectile dysfunction. I fear Im tapped out. Katie Couric, you ripe plum, I love ya, but the ongoing stem cell debate will have to ongo without me.

Friends, tell me you feel this way, too. Tell me you dont have enough energy to tackle all the great issues of the day – like whose fault was it Julia Roberts and Benjamin Bratt hit the bricks? First, Alec and Kim, and then Dennis and Meg, and Tom and Nicole; its heartbreaking, its like, hello, hell-o, cant we all just get along? (And now Tom is dating Penelope Cruz. Whats that about? Do we really need Penelope Cruz-Cruise? Thats either a kinky sequel to The Love Boat or the femme fatale in The World According to Ruben Boumtje-Boumtje.)

And enough already with this water-torture Tauzin-Dingell bill, and the bleating about high-speed Internet access. I am so sick of these insufferably relentless radio and TV ads. Vote for Tauzin-Dingell! Say no to Tauzin-Dingell! I have reached the point where I hate Tauzin, I hate Dingell – I even hate Bill. I dont give a rats patootie about high-speed Internet access. At my age, the only high-speed access I want is to the restroom, thank you.

Ill tell you another thing I dont have energy for: the debate over biotech corn. Theres concern that genetically engineered corn (legally defined as corn with a distinctive Dacron flavor) is making its way into the food supply. Apparently, some people whove eaten it have claimed theyve had allergic reactions that range from mild itch to full-blown death. (The rest of us are merely mutating into rabbits.) And people want to know what they can do to stop being slowly poisoned by this naugahyde corn. Clearly the answer is: Eat freakin broccoli.

Life is simply too short to waste any time on things like books about John Adams. John Adams? Excuse me, the president after Adams was only the smartest man the country ever had, and the president before him was only the greatest wartime general the country ever had – other than Michael Corleone. John Adams is basically a salami sandwich between these guys. Unless John Adams could do something really cool, like take the tip of his tongue and touch his eyeballs, I have no time for him.

Have you seen the bestseller list lately? Two of the top three sellers in nonfiction are Who Moved My Cheese? and The Prayer of Jabez. First of all, I dont care who moved your cheese; I care who cut the cheese. Second of all, one of these stupid books is 96 pages long; the other is 94. Thats not a book, thats a catalogue. If all you have to do to get a bestseller is write 90 pages and slap a title on that rhymes with Cheese and Ja-beeze, how about Who Slashed My Trapeze? or Hey, Louise, I Lost My Keys, So Im Down on My Knees, And Jeez I Think Ive Gotta Sneeze, So Help Me Out and Order Some Cantonese, Please? Thats good, because the title alone might go 37 pages.

The one story out there I think is important is almost 450 firearms belonging to the FBI, including semiautomatic pistols, revolvers, assault rifles and shotguns, are either missing or unaccounted for.

Okay, this is a joke, right? Because 450 weapons didnt just walk out of FBI headquarters by themselves. I might remind you that J. Edgar Hoovers dresses never walked out of there. Strolled, maybe; sashayed, seductively slithered – but never walked.

Seriously, how did this happen? What are they doing at the front desk of the FBI, watching The Flintstones on TV Land?

Most of the time, though, I feel a little like how Betsy Gotbaum, the former president of the New-York Historical Society, must feel – overwhelmed. The other night Gotbaum introduced Bill Clinton at a fundraiser for the society.

She introduced Clinton as Richard Nixon.

© 2001 The Washington Post Company