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Truth will free
Blogosphere from celebs

Just when you thought the Blogosphere was safe for wingnuts with more conspiracy theories than clean pairs of underwear, Walter Cronkite had to go smear the place up with integrity.

He's one of the many celebrities on Huffingtonpost .com, where the rich and fabulous go to mix, mingle and rip apart U.S. foreign policy.

But blogs are no place for well-coifed resumes -- the only reason Respectable People are respectable is because they continuously bite their own tongues.

It'd be cool if the likes of Catherine Crier or Robert F. Kennedy Jr. could muster the transparency to type what's really going on in their heads at any given moment, like "I hate peas," or "Why do we call them 'sunglasses'? They don't help us see the sun, they shield us from it. They should be called 'anti-sunglasses.'"

But we haven't seen anything approaching such brazen fits of semi-coherent whimsy since Larry King stopped writing for USA Today in 2001.

So below are a few more entries from my Retro Blog (digitalslob.com), serving as a template for how to post truly honest entries. In many cases, the key is waiting for the statute of limitations to run out.

June 28, 1972 (4 years old): My trip to Disney World is being ruined by the fact that the Stuckey's rest-stop and souvenir chain refuses to recognize my right to exist.

They've got personalized key chains, wallets, faux license plates -- everything, but not one says "Curt."

My 7-year-old brother, Chris, however, was in hog heaven. Not only did everything come in his name, but there were countless variations -- "Chris," "Christopher," "Christian," "Christina," "Christine." I got more and more ticked off as my sister drove us down the interstate.

"I mean, who died and made his name king?" I asked.

My sister choked, then told Mom, "Maybe he should go to Sunday school, at least once."

June 2, 1976 (8 years old): Been waiting for weeks to get my grades because a McDonald's ad said you could get a free cheeseburger if you got an "A" on your report card.

I got all A's, so I figured I had six free burgers headed my way. Turns out, it's just one cheeseburger per person, so my "A" in gym alone would have been plenty.

What a rip. That's the last time I make straight A's again, I'll tell you that.

Sept. 20, 1977 (9 years old): Watched Fonzie strap on a pair of skis and jump over a shark on "Happy Days." I dunno, I think the show's starting to lose something.

July 15, 1982 (14 years old): Bumped into my friend Jeremy today -- he's only 12 and covered in freckles, but goes to a Magnet school, so I consider him almost equal to me.

We got bored, so I turned philosophical.

"Say, Jeremy," I said, "theoretically speaking, would you say it's in the realm of possibility that you could marry someone who was, say, 10 years younger than you? I mean, let's say you're 40 years old ... could you imagine having a wife that's 30 years old?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jeremy said.

"Do you realize that, if you do that, your future wife is now only 2 years old?" I said. "Kinda creepy, huh?"

Jeremy seemed to agree, but stared into space without comment -- then suddenly said he had to go home for dinner, even though it was only 4:30 p.m.