ext Wednesday will mark the first anniversary of the Sept. 11^th attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, a day of tragedy that made Americans pause from their normal lives and rally together in support of the victims. In addition to fears of new terrorist attacks on the anniversary, most Americans are uncertain how to commemorate the event. Already, however, most are expected to resume their habits of complaining about the smallest of problems.

"I hope they give us the day off at work," said Texas cell phone salesman Bob Whiterich. "It's like a national tragedy and crap. How are people supposed to work on a day like that? And if I knew I could take a couple of vacation days Monday and Tuesday and head to the beach with the family."

Most companies and government agencies have decided against imposing a holiday, feeling the anniversary would be spent better keeping businesses and services functioning as normal. Even plans for restricting air travel on Sept. 11^th have been declined, feeling the statement to the rest of the world, including Muslim extremists believed to have launched the attacks, is a stronger exclamation of solidarity and a country affected, yet not shaken in their resolve by terrorism.

Mark Turnskit, a 42-year-old UPS driver and volunteer fireman in Piermont, North Dakota, however, thinks that is bullshit.

"It's bullshit, man," said Turnskit. "We need a day to remember the importance of it all and stuff. I have a lot of friends back east, in Ohio. A cousin of one of them was married to a firefighter and I think he may have been in the World Trade Center disaster and stuff. I haven't talked to them in a long time—I don't write letters and all, you know, and I don't have their e-mail address or anything. The worst part is not knowing."

Added Turnskit, "I'm a firefighter, so I know what it's like. I could have been in that place just as easy as all the guys who were."

California telemarketer Steve Gerber has made no change in plans for Sept. 11^th. "What is that, a Wednesday? I don't imagine I'll have time to think about the loss of lives and how great it is to live in a country that is still the most secure and wealthiest on the planet. Maybe some time in the evening, after work, if there's something on the Discovery Channel talking about it or—aw, shit. West Wing is on that night, right?"

"I would take a minute or two to stop and think about life and death and all that," said Howett, Tennessee factory worker Milt Darling, "but the Dodge has been crapping out on me a lot, lately. I'll probably have to worry about getting a ride to work. Life's so fucking unfair, man."

Decatur, Georgia realtor Shari Cartier summed up the feelings of most Americans on the subject: "It will be a dark day. This has been the greatest tragedy in history of all time. Something like 6,000 people died—that's more than died in Vietnam, you know. But, c'mon, I got my own life to worry about. Those damn Peel St. properties aren't going to move themselves. And the kids can't take themselves to karate."

The most significant commemoration of the day, outside of New York and Washington, D.C., is likely to come from Perkins, Nebraska, where button collector and local crackpot Vernon Heston is planning on building a scale model of the World Trade Center towers out of Popsicle sticks. Although, according to Heston, if the price of Popsicles continues to skyrocket, the whole thing will be scrapped.

ock musician and poet Bob Dylan received the ultimate honor Friday night from an unknown fan believed to be under the influence of several chemical substances. For all his years of service in changing the face of modern music, Dylan was knighted in a brief ceremony behind the Homebrew bar and grill that took only a couple minutes.

Dylan, who was performing an unannounced set at the Homebrew promoting his new album, was extremely surprised and delighted by the honor.

"It was very cool," said Dylan. "You don’t get into this life with thought of major rewards like being knighted. You do it for the music, or maybe the money. This is quite a big moment for me and I’d like to thank the drug-influenced guy who bestowed this upon me, wherever he is."

Dylan was on his way to the parking lot of the club with friends when the unidentified high guy stopped him in the alley, proclaimed Dylan the man, and knighted him with a very quick tap on each of his shoulders with an empty Thunderbird bottle, pretending it was a sword. He then pissed his pants and stumbled back into the club. Surprised but happy with the honor, Dylan continued on to his car.

"I thought about trying to find the guy, but I didn’t want to insult him after he had just done this very great thing for me. I was also a bit shocked by it all. Even if you expect this sort of thing is going to happen, some alley behind a club is about the last place you’re ready for it."

Columbia Records, Dylan’s label, has jumped all over the high-press event. New releases of all Dylan’s previous albums are being issued with a royal seal on them under the artist heading of "Sir Bob Dylan."

"Everyone at Columbia has always known America has a special genius in Bob Dylan," said Columbia V.P. of Advertising John Bonlee, "and now people everywhere will know that. The dude on heroin or crack or whatever behind that club knew it, and recognized Dylan for his years of service to the music industry and world as a whole."

Sources report that if the blitzed night club rambler can be found, Columbia Records would like to have him knight Dylan again, just for the sake of press, on a two-hour TV special with friends and fellow musicians playing songs in Dylan’s honor. Dylan, who has written rock ’n’ roll and folk staples like "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man," "Blowin’ in the Wind," and "Like A Rolling Stone," could not verify the possibility of a two-hour TV event, but said he would definitely not want to air opposite Friends and Survivor.

Well it must be September, since the weather's cooling off, the pennant races are heating up, and Manny Ramirez just missed a crucial series against the Yankees because of a serious case of jock itch. You've got to love Manny though. Have you seen that guy's shoes? Vegas doesn't have that many sequins. I'd get myself a pair if I didn't think a house would fall on my head as soon as I put them on.

You know what else? Mascots in sports have never made much sense to me.

Who in their right mind goes to a baseball game to see some illegal immigrant in a chicken suit poop out baseballs along the third base line? That's just sick. And I think mascots are a bad idea too.

Name a single pro-baseball mascot you wouldn't mind having in the crosshairs of a deer rifle, just one. No, I'm not talking about cheerleaders, you sick bastard. I'm talking about the giant Muppets with some guy trapped inside making minimum wage.

And these mascots have a much more checkered history than you'd think. Take for instance the story of the Schenectady River Goats' former mascot, Trotsky the Home-Run Bear. I was at one of their games back in the 70's that I'll never forget. Trotsky comes out in the third inning, like he always had, to shoot t-shirts into the crowd using a makeshift air cannon that looks like a shoulder-fired rocket launcher. Basically a big long tube that shoots rolled up t-shirts into the stands like mortar rounds.

Trotsky comes out, and the crowd goes nuts, clamoring for a cheap-ass River Goats t-shirt as they always do. Only this time the bear's walking out kinda slow, and he doesn't do any cartwheels or any of his usual crowd-pleasing antics. Instead, when he gets out to the outfield, he drops one end of the t-shirt gun to the ground, waves a sad little wave to the crowd, sticks the barrel in his oversized mascot bear mouth and pulls the trigger. I swear to God, it was pandemonium. Little kids were screaming all over the stadium as this giant bear is laying spread-eagle on the field, with a smoking t-shirt hanging out of his mouth. It was horrible. They had to cover him with a River Goats souvenir tarp and almost canceled the seventh-inning ice cream race. I guess Trotsky took the River Goats' eight-game losing streak more seriously than anybody had realized.

Baseball nicknames these days don't make any sense to me either. Take Randy Johnson, for example. Hey, if you want to call a seven-foot-tall redneck with an attitude "The Big Eunuch," I guess that's your right, it just never made sense to me. I'd rather be killed for religion or true love or something, but that's just me. You want some genetic freak with cleats turning your head into a wiffle ball, I suppose that's your God-given right as a numbskull.

Same thing with "Hammerin'" Hank Aaron. If you've got the balls to make fun of some guy's drinking problem, I only hope for your sake he's not twice as big as you and frequently armed with a big wooden stick. Jesus.

I'm also fascinated by the famous players who are so devoid of personality that they don't even get nicknames. Like Tony Gwynn, they loved that guy down in San Diego, but what was his nickname? "The Hitting Weeble"? "Black Math"? That has no kind of ring to it. What about Barry "They Don't Pay Me To Have a Personality" Bonds? "The Legend of Boring"? That guy has the personality of my bank manager. He could suck the fun out of a pillow fight. However, my favorite has to be Alex Rodriguez. And don't give me that A-Rod crap. That's not a nickname, that's a car part. This guy's the Tiger Woods of baseball, and they're both the Jehovah's Witnesses of sports.

We need to start giving baseball players nicknames like monster trucks, spice things up a bit. Seeing a thrilling bottom-of-the-ninth showdown between "The Devastator" and "HOMOPHOBIA" could only be good for the sport, I think.

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