October 18, 2005
CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL
I admit it. At about 10:15 a.m. on Monday, I did the Fred Flinstone yell when I heard about the possibility of Hurricane Wilma hitting Florida.
I'm not proud I did it. I felt dirty and unwashed, like a bad impressionist on "Open Mike Night."
But it's out of my system. This room is clear now.
There are plenty of cartoon characters I'd prefer to substitute with Wilma. Bam Bam seems more appropriate. Hell, Wilma's no-neck mother looks like she could pack a wallop. There'd certainly be no joy in losing my home to Hurricane Gazoo. Or Hurricane Drooper from The Banana Splits.
Truth be told, I'm still recovering from the idea that Fred and Barney were caught up in the Great Animated Gay Witch Hunt of 2005. 
I'm not a big Andy Borowitz fan, but I did laugh a little when he suggested in a fake news item that conservatives were saying Fred and Barney should be banned because they are virtually inseparable, are never seen wearing pants and live together in the suggestively-named town of Bedrock.
I don't care who you are, that's funny.