he Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences announced today that they are creating a special category of Oscar, beginning with this year's ceremony, that will be reserved exclusively for actor Kevin Spacey.

"We just really, really like the guy, you know?" said an Academy spokesperson. "That's why we've created the Kevin Spacey Perpetual Award, to be given to Kevin Spacey every single year from now on. We just think he's a great practitioner of his craft, and a delight to have around."

Speaking under condition of anonymity, at a location that may or may not have been the Viper Room, the spokesperson, wearing a Groucho mask and holding a handkerchief in front of his mouth to disguise his voice, went on to add that "This doesn't mean he won't still be eligible for Oscars in other categories, like Best Actor or whatever. It just means that we're assured of having him up on stage and thanking the Academy at least once every year."

"The great thing is, he's not some fat, bloated lunatic with his best years long behind him who walks around the set without his pants on and sends Native American women to pick up his awards and talk politics all night, like Brando. And he's not a young, talented firebrand like Sean Penn, who ignores our annual get-together and calls us all bad names. He's just a real nice guy in real life. Or so I've heard."

Casting a wary glance from side to side to make sure no one was eavesdropping, the spokesperson went to say, in a very low voice, "There is also a significant faction among the Academy members who still think he might actually be Keyser Soze, and I can tell you in confidence that that belief may have played a small part in this decision. Of course," he said, chuckling slightly and leaning back in his chair, "he could also really be the alien Prot, and disappear from this Earth in a beam of light at any time, heh. That's the beautiful thing about Kev is that you just never know, you know what I mean?"

When asked if there were plans to set up a special Perpetual Award for anyone else, the spokesperson replied, "Well, we tossed around Julia Roberts' name for a while, because most of us like her a lot, but the consensus was that we would hold off with her until she decides to get naked onscreen. Because really, how are you supposed to judge if a broad's got talent or not when she keeps her clothes on in every single movie she makes? I mean, what's up with that?"

ov. 29, 2001 America lost another revered musician and inspiration for thousands of musicians in George Harrison, member of the Beatles and solo artist since 1970. Harrison was 58.

And news of Harrison's death and pervasive media coverage has made everyone in America an expert on the life and music of George Harrison, at least for a while.

"Harrison was never interested in school work," said New York City bartender Rupert Holmes. "But he really enjoyed a guitar his mother bought him for £3. He would sit in his room and practice for hours, until his fingers bled."

"Harrison formed the Quarrymen with John Lennon, which soon included bandmate and future Beatle Paul McCartney," said Alice Carter, a real estate agent in Twin Falls, Idaho. "The band eventually changed its name to the Beatles, a play on the word 'beat,' and honed their craft in a seedy club in Hamburg."

Greg Batley, a 29-year-old mechanic from Atlanta, Georgia, continued: "Harrison grew as a songwriter working alongside Lennon and McCartney. He would continue to become a fantastic songwriter in his own right, contributing hits over the years like 'The Taxman,' 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps,' "Something,' and 'Here Comes the Sun.'"

Batley hummed the latter composition for a few minutes.

"He introduced America to the sitar," stated Kansas City, Missouri police officer Mark Kite. "He became friends and musically influenced by Ravi Shankar. While in his personal life he became intrigued by eastern philosophy and religion, a fascination which he passed on to the other Beatles."

"After the break-up of the Beatles," said John Ulee, a Seattle-based computer programmer, "Harrison was the first to experience solo success with a composition called 'My Sweet Lord.' He went on to put together the Concert for Bangladesh, the first all-star benefit of its kind. Years before 'We Are the World.'"

Minor League baseball player Wes Murphy of Durham, North Carolina continued: "In later years, Harrison's biggest success in music was from the hit 'Got My Mind Set on You' off his album Cloud 9, and also with Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and Bob Dylan as a member of The Traveling Wilburys. Harrison said of the low-key experience, 'It beats being a Beatle.'"

"Harrison experienced his first bout with cancer in the late '90s," said baker Lynette McKeegan of Salt Lake City, Utah. "In '99 he was assaulted by a deranged fan, from which he recovered, but cancer only dug in deeper and in late November he lost his battle with it. Harrison leaves behind a $300 million estate to his wife and his son, it's like Donnie, but there's an 'H' in there, I think. Harrison was 58."

The amazing retention of Harrison information astounds even self-proclaimed Beatles fans.

"I have all their CDs," said Rich Carlisle of Pennsauken, New Jersey, "and I always kept forgetting he wrote, 'For You, Blue.' Kept thinking it was McCartney. And I didn't know he had a girlfriend that left him for Eric Clapton. I'm starting to think I'm not much of a fan at all."

The retention, however complete right now, is expected to fade gradually as Americans mourn Harrison's loss and move on to the next expired celebrity.

"I love Harrison," said Craig Bachman of Orlando, Florida, "and I've been burning out a recent copy of All Things Must Pass I bought last year. But I don't know how long I'll remember he was behind Handmaid Films which made Time Bandits and Monty Python's The Life of Brian. I'm already starting to forget Jack Lemmon was in The Apartment. Lemmon was 76."

The question we should all be asking, whether we know the answer or not, is this: who in the world was Mohandas K. Gandhi? Sure, you're heard the name. You may even remember his face from Mad Magazine's History, Schmistory issue from a few years back. But who was he, really, and why are half of my breakfast products named after him?

The answer is more complex than it is simple. Mohandas Gandhi was a cigar-chomping Indian entrepreneur with a short temper and a talent for the tall tale. His life left a mark on the world that's been tough to scrub off, which should be the goal of any great man.

Gandhi came to world prominence as the world's fattest man in the first ever Big Fat Olympics in 1931. There he trounced the competition by being really really fat. He cruised on the fame of being so fat for several years, but eventually even his big fat popularity began to wane. This is what always happens throughout history: one day you're on top of the world for being a big tub of lard and the next day it's what have you done for me lately, fatso?

Gandhi kicked this problem right in the pants when pulled off the bold move of losing all that weight and becoming really amazingly skinny. He then claimed he lost the weight eating chicken. Medical reports show this was partially true, since he had picked up an orca-sized tapeworm from some undercooked chicken in New Delhi. When the tapeworm was removed it was so large it got Gandhi's record collection and his apartment, while he opted to move into a smaller place across town.

Riding high on the wave of his being-skinny-now fame, Gandhi opened chain of chicken restaurants that did very well. Known as Colonel Gandhi to fans of his chicken, Mohandas sought then to branch out into other enterprises, including a line of mylar-bagged salads and a novelty record label that pressed edible LPs. Neither were as delicious as his chicken, but they did have their advocates.

Gandhi briefly considered starting a dance craze, but soon abandoned that dream in order to fulfill his true vision for India: that everyone everywhere should have access to delicious chicken. People cheered in the streets when they heard of his plan, and Gandhi became a national hero overnight.

Unfortunately, back in that day the British owned all of India, which they had won years ago shooting craps with the Ottoman Empire. And being the pricks that they historically were, the Brits didn't want all of India getting slap-happy with delicious chicken while they had to choke down disgusting pork drippings smeared on stale English muffins. The complete disgustingness of British cuisine ruled the fates of many a people in the 19th and early 20th centuries, since the Brits had to conquer far and wide just to find a decent bite to eat.

The British told Gandhi to buzz off with his succulent rotisserie chicken, and that the people of India would have to make do with the gelatinous gravy-soaked nasty crap that the Brits called food. Gandhi thought they were kidding, and continued happily with his franchise expansion plans until the British proved they meant business by killing everyone in India. Don't try to follow the logic there, that's just the way the British did things back then. Luckily for the Indians, the Brits didn't really have a clue where the Indian people hung out, so they only actually ended up killing everyone who was hanging out at the one British pub in India, most of whom were British people and tourists.

The next day the British were shocked and awed to find Indian people out walking around in the streets, and from that moment on, old wives' tales of Indian reproductive prowess became a staple in British schools.

Gandhi sought to fight the injustice of British oppression by opening more chicken restaurants. The people applauded his defiance, and enjoyed his chicken. Over the next several years the British tried several increasingly ridiculous methods of quelling the Indian uprising, including outlawing savory flavor, forcing all known Indians to wear tight-fitting trousers and spraying crowds with cottage cheese. None of these were effective, however, as the people's love of Gandhi's chicken proved lasting.

Eventually Gandhi's methods of delicious resistance gained popularity all over the world, and the British gave up, leaving India with several take-out boxes of mouth-watering chicken under their arms. The people would have rejoiced, but they were really full and figured that a vague thumbs-up gesture communicated their approval well enough.

Years later Gandhi was assassinated by a religious fanatic who believed that chicken so good it made your dick hard was against God's plan. He wasn't arrested, since India is more of a "you made your bed now sleep in it" kind of nation, and instead he was just banned from all 12,000 Colonel Gandhi's chicken locations. Amnesty International has tried to intervene on his behalf, as have the manufacturers of several fake-nose-and-mustache disguise kits, but despite their best efforts the assassin has lived for years in delicious chicken purgatory.

Some historians have argued that Gandhi, while a fun guy, was served too generous a slice of historical notoriety given his accomplishments. They often sing another tune, however, when really hungry. Such is human nature.

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