I've decided to lay down some rules for myself if I am to continue writing this column. That way I can stear clear of trouble on those sodden-faced nights I write before this little rag goes to press. The editors have been given free reign to cut anything I write that may cross the line in violation of the following rules:

Never write anything about drugs, especially illegal drugs. But if you do happen to write about them, include some sort of obvious Bukowskian fantasy preface so as to communicate the fact that you aren't actually using those drugs yourself, but just fantasizing about using those drugs.

Never write anything about fascism, police-states or witch hunts in reference to the City of Portland.

Never assume that people--friends or enemies or indifferent--don't read this column (especially enemies).

Never write about the embarrassment and insecurity of having a small penis.

Never write this column after reading anything by William S. Burroughs.

Never write this column when you could be alone in a hot tub with three beautiful girls instead.

Never write this column while porn star Bridget the Midget is gnawing on your limbs.

Never write this column while porn star bridget the midget is even in the same room.

Never write this column if you think your grandparents might possibly read it.

Never write anything bad about ex-girlfriends, in fact, don't even write anything about ex-girlfriends or even current girlfriends. Especially don't write about anything involving ex-girlfriends that might be considered extremely perverse. Extremely perverse includes anything that involves habitrail tubes, garbage disposals or Pokemon action figures.

Never write this column when you could be on the Internet jerking off to live Exotic Magazine photoshoots instead.