In his excellent piece in March’s Vanity Fair entitled “The Death of Shame,” Christopher Hitchens related David Letterman’s attempt to interrupt Howard Stern in the middle of an orgasm:

“Letterman, who I’m sure would rather die than be accused of spoiling the fun, but who has to worry about other things too, came out of what resembled a panic and hit upon a good notion.’Too much information!’ he bellowed.’Too.Much.INFORMATION!'”

I couldn’t agree more.And yet, at the same time, I would like the option of too much information from time to time.With the rise to prominence of the Omnibus Telecommunications Act (no longer “just a bill/sittin’ on Capitol Hill” but a real live law, compliments of Big Daddy Clinton’s need to suck up to the conservative right), it seems that The Man can monitor my information.According to this fine feathered legislation, I cannot say or depict anything that might appeal to the prurient interest or might prove harmful to minors or might refer to sex in positive terms, or some such bollocks.I will now register my official disapproval of this flagrant violation of my First Amendment rights with the following statement:

PENIS.(You’ll never get me, copper.You’ll never get me, see?Boo ha ha ha ha!)

That “PENIS” up there probably constitutes JUST a little bit too much information.Come along with me today on today’s Too Much Informational Tour, okay?Last weekend, I watched people that I respect dress up as Smurfs (Smurves?) and smoke dope.Too much information.On the Monday night news, a Fox TV crew in search of a pithy comment waited outside a courthouse for the drunk executive who defecated on the serving cart during a United Airlines flight to Buenos Aires: “Excuse me — Ruprecht the monkey boy?Can you tell our viewers what possessed you to pinch a loaf into the chicken Kiev?”Too much information.The clueless cold-callers from MCI phone me up weekly, and every time they ask for MISTER Bunting; chicks don’t write checks, I guess.Sexism lives.Too.Much.INFORMATION.

Next stop, the Web.Let’s visit the page with the photos of mass graves.Let’s hit the risibly-spelled Wedgie Page, or the hURL page (“formerly known as PUKING!”), or the page of the woman who claims Bill Gates is persecuting her because she has autism, and that Gates has autism too (links include the autism FAQ and several video clips of Bill clutching himself and rocking back and forth).Or head over to George Magazine‘s page, where you can send a digital valentine to your favorite politician.Hey, that reminds me of a sexual dream I used to have from time to time about President Clinton; for some reason, I had to program the White House’s VCR, and while I was perusing the manual Big Daddy snuck up behind me, and…oh, forget it.Too much information.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Big Daddy just signed a bill making expulsion of HIV-positive servicemen and servicewomen from the armed forces mandatory.Evidently, in all the kerfuffle over whether our nation’s youth might be exposed to the occasional bare nipple, the fact that the President has turned into a homophobic Republican reactionary has gotten lost in the shuffle.

Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go read the newspaper, while I still can.

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