A restaurant explosion in Perth, Australia proves that roaches might be pesky, but the traps are a bomb. Literally. Chemicals from thirty-six ( ! ) roach bombs reacted with the pilot light of a stove and turned the establishment into confetti, causing roughly 500,000 dollars in damage. Three men suffered burns and minor injuries. Of course this is not funny, yet something about this story tugs at me anyway.

While my apartment doesn’t have bugs, I resided in one place that did. Overrun by pestilent beasts, I exceeded the recommended “coverage dosage” for the room by a few cans. However, not by a factor of 5 as the owners of the Thai restaurant did.

Guess sometimes it’s just easier to tear something down completely before rebuilding it. No word on the fate of the roaches or the Friday lunch special.

If I ever uncover a 8 foot, 800 pound hog in Georgia, my last thought would be the scientific consequence. My first thought – why am I in Georgia? My second – what the hell am I doing with an exhumed pig the size of a Cadillac? And this is why I write. A missed shower has nothing on the stench of a dead hog.

As the legend of Hogzilla spread, and towns held festivals themed after the creature, documentary specialists saw opportunity. Capturing the beast on film might intrique many directors. But to a serious auteur, documenting a living freakshow is just too easy. The manly challenge – film six months after the animal dies. Biohazard suits, shovels, a taste for rotting carcass and a video camera – these are the tools that separate professional filmmaker from rubberneckers with camera phones.

According to Nancy Donnelly a producer of a documentary about the hog, “He was an impressive beast. He was definitely a freak of nature.” Hogzilla might not be the only freak of nature around here, Nancy.

Somewhere, somehow, some producer has plans for a Hogzilla: A Rotting Life reality TV show.

After the fire department and police left, the landlord agreed to rent me storage space in the basement. Straight up, this is absolutely true. Check my chronology.

Between 1:23AM and 1:25AM – a neighbor, let’s call him the Torch who lives in Apartment 22 – decided it was time for dinner. Torch throws a steak on a frying pan.

1:26 AM Torch plops on the couch and watches the Spice Chanel.

1:30 AM Neglected contents in frying pan catches fire. Smoke fills Apartment 22.

1:31 AM Fire detectors engage. A horrible ringing starts.

1:32 AM The Wife says, there’s something wrong. Implores writer guy to investigate.

1:33 AM Writer guy verifies there is smoke in the hallway. Returns to apartment tells the Wife to get a coat. Together they stuff cats in the kitty carriers.

1:34 AM Next door neighbor ( not Torch ) calls 911.

1:35 AM Writer guy, The Wife, Master Buddhapuss and Electra evacuate with car keys, cellphones and wallets.

1:36 AM Sirens announce the arrival of the fire department. Police escort everyone out of the building.

1:37 AM Police locate the culprit, Torch. The Spice Channel is still on.

1:38 AM Crowd gathers outside the house, gawking at the spectacle of ten police, two fire trucks and eight firemen. Police cars block all traffic on the street.

1:39 AM Fire department informs tenants of the situation. Cursing at Torch begins.

1:55 AM Tenants allowed back inside respective apartments. Torch watches tenants enter from his doorway, the embarrassment visible.

1:56 AM Landlord arrives. Writer guy approaches him in the hallway. Says something witty like, “while you’re here I’d like to talk to you.” Makes offer on some space in the basement. Landlord accepts in theory.

1:59 AM Writer guy returns to apartment. Agrees with the Wife that the evacuation procedure is good, but needs practice.

2:00 AM – Sunrise – Other tenants toss and turn, while Writer guy snores like a wildabeast. He knows someday soon he will see his walls again.

A most intriguing question awaits Master Buddhapuss on Monday.

The sun sets on every empire, no matter how treacherous and overdrawn. After twenty-four years of enraging CBS viewers, Dan Rather is, at long last, exhibiting a shred of class and resigning. Tonight, the voice of bias and derision surrenders the nightly news cast crown for good. Wow, that took forever.

Don’t cry for Mr. Rather too loudly. He’ll hold 60 Minute and 60 Minute Wednesday viewers hostage into the foreseeable future. There’ll be guest anchor spots, speaking engagements and if we will it real hard, maybe a book or five.

This is a good first step. Now, If Mr. Rather wants to resign his other gigs, I’m in his corner 100 percent. To Mr. Rather I say, you’re on a roll, sir. Don’t quit quitting now! Give the audience what they want, and do it all the way. Do this for me and I’ll buy you a Cookie Puss AND Fudgie the Whale.