A unique program from the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley brings white students from the university's campus to the Little Bighorn Mountains of Montana, where they hunt buffalo on Crow tribal lands. Organized by the school's Native American Student Services department, it's billed as a way to "introduce Crow culture to university students, as well as the Crow to the university." I'm guessing the Crow youths are introduced to white suburban culture by shopping for Chef-Boyardee products at an Albertson's supermarket, then a trip to the local mall for an Orange Julius and a $50 tee shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch.

Police in a Chicago suburb, acting on a tip from narcotics agents, busted two men who were hiding $39 million of cocaine inside large barrels of guacamole. No word yet on the guacamole's street value. Kinda makes you wonder what's in the Colonel's "Secret Blend of 11 Herbs and Spices" over at KFC, doesn't it?

Every day, I'm treated to a smorgasbord of spam emails promising me everything from untold riches (if only I'll give my bank account number to some poor soul in Nigeria) to eBay classes (gee, I didn't know eBay was so difficult) to that old standby: penis enlargement products. So it takes something really special to break through the clutter for me--something, say, like a teddy bear with a vacuum attached to his privates. Go ahead; click the photo for (ahem) a larger view. I ordered two.

On May 27, 2003, Dustin Lowe struggled with police officers outside of a Billings Heights casino when they wanted to question him. During the struggle, a police officer hit him the the butt of a gun; when Lowe broke free and ran, the same officer shot four times, hitting Lowe with three of the bullets. Lowe survived, and now he's got a great story for this whole misunderstanding: he was a victim of police brutality. Based on the facts of the case so far, I might buy this. But then, Lowe is dumb enough to admit that he was using methamphetamines that day, and, oh yeah, he told the police he had a gun while they were trying to subdue him. Lessee, he was high on crank, and he told police he was armed? And then, he actually admitted all of this in court? Hmmm. Note to self: stop taking crank.

Most public defenders do their work for the personal satisfaction of knowing they're making a difference. Sandy Selvey, former public defender for Yellowstone County, Montana, evidently did it for the chicks. Documents obtained by the Billings Gazette are filled with details of this Lothario's conquests. In one scene, Selvey (who is married) is having sex with one of the office supervisors at work, and is rudely interrupted by one of the investigative assistants--a woman he is also schtupping (not at the same time, of course, but the thought may have crossed his mind). Sign this man up as a spokesperson for Viagra.

But wait! That's not all you'll get in these documents. You'll also see the sordid daily lives of investigators. My favorite passage: "A couple of days later, on August 1, 2002, when Tom Taggart entered the investigator's office, Sarah told him good morning. In response, Mr. Taggart sat down at his desk and said, "Whore. Slut. Ho-bag. I want to kill someone." In an amazing coincidence, that's exactly how I greet my co-workers every morning.

This morning, I watched a few retrospectives on September 11. And despite the cynical, jaded part of me that takes a harsh view of so many things (including the absence of any true societal shift in the wake of such an historic event as 9/11), I have to say: it still made me cry. Much to my surprise, as I watched the towers tumble, and the people flee, and the fires burn, I felt the raw emotion. Maybe, in a world filled with 24-hour news and political posturing, there's a place inside of us where real emotion still survives. And maybe the good to come of 9/11 is that it lets us tap into that emotion, then take hope from it. Visit this memorial of the people who died on 09/11.

Proving yet again that corporate America can never stoop too low to protect its moneyed interests, the Recording Industry Association of America has sued 12-year-old Brianna LaHara for downloading and sharing songs via the Internet. Yeah, those pre-teens are a devious bunch out to destroy the very foundations of capitalism as we know it. We all know that the music industry's woes have everything to do with kids downloading free songs and nothing to do with the studios spending the past several years putting all their money behind pre-packaged, flash-in-the-pan teen acts with little hope of any staying power (raise your hand if you remember 98 Degrees) rather than developing acts with actual talent and originality. But I digress. And take heart; the RIAA isn't the kind of cold, heartless organization that would drag a 12-year-old through a long, costly trial. Instead, they settled with Ms. LaHara for $2000, proving they're the kind of cold, heartless organization that prefers to make a quick buck any way they can. Ah, it warms the cockles of my heart to know the good old American value of corporate greed can still be practiced freely.

Archie McPhee, purveyors of fine tchochkes ranging from gelatin brains to smoking babies to punching nuns, has a brilliant new collectible: a librarian action figure with "Amazing push-button shushing action," modeled after real-life Seattle librarian Nancy Pearl. Who wouldn't get a kick out of this kitsch? According to a recent Newsday article, many librarians. Diane DuBois, a librarian at Caribou Public Library in Caribou, Maine commented "The shushing thing just put me right over the edge. We're so not like that anymore. It's so stereotypical I could scream." Hmmmm. Who do you think is damaging the reputations of librarians more: Nancy Pearl (who has started innovative programs such as "If All of Seattle Read the Same Book" and has written books of her own), or valley girl wannabes such as Ms. Dubois who are, like, you know, so angry they could scream?

Every day, governors all across this great land of ours deal with issues ranging from land use to budget deficits to fair tax structures. Of course, if you're Judy Martz, Governor of Montana, pedestrian duties such as these are much too routine; why not go out and sell a bit of bull semen, instead? As the headline in the Billings Gazette says: "Martz in Argentina promoting sale of state's bull semen." I'd like to provide some sort of witty commentary on this, but it seems redundant.