Phones in the terlet.

Time was, you wanted to hide from your boss, you had to go into the can and sequester yourself in a stall. Worked best if your boss was a different gender. Otherwise he might come in after you, yelling your name and looking for your shoes.

Back then to pass your time in seclusion you might want to slip a newspaper in your pocket or something. Office bathroom stalls often had sections of the newspaper around from previous guests.

Now everyone brings his phone into the can.

It's an improvement, actually. Makes it easier on the custodial staff to not have to cart out germy sports sections. On the other hand, guys using cell phones and wiping their butts helps lead to pathogens all over their telephones.

But the advantages to the cell phone are clear. You can read the news on the phone nowadays, but you can also play games. (I'd turn off the sound, though; Candy Crush's effects are rather distinct and not to be mistaken for noises of normal evacuation.) I do dislike when people pick up calls on the can, though.

[ring] "Hello... Oh, nothing...."

The slight tile-related echo is a dead giveaway to the person on the other end.

I'm sure we're spending too much time goofing when we are supposed to be pooping. In the bathroom we should probably all just do the necessary and get back to work instead of farting around, so to speak, with our phones. Besides, I would note that newspapers had one advantage over cell phones in bathrooms: If you run out of toilet paper, the phone is not going to make an appropriate stand-in.

Unless you don't mind having a lot of pathogens on your cell phone.

AFV host quest!

I love watching America's Funniest Home Videos, or AFV to us "insiders" (although it should be AFHV, or AF(H)V, but we overlook quibbles for the sake of love). Every Sunday night I look forward to people getting whacked in the crotch, slipping and falling, getting spat on by animals, tripping in bridal gowns, crashing through trampolines, getting tripped by dogs, getting tripped by dogs in bridal gowns on trampolines... I once tried to talk Mrs. Key into wearing her wedding gown and jumping on a trampoline while swinging at a pinata and then hitting me in the crotch with a dog nearby. That had to be worth the $10,000 prize.

Sadly, she would not go for it.

I enjoy watching people do stupid things on Sunday nights, as I've mentioned before; it helps me feel smarter when I start my week.

Sadly, all us fans of the show know that the new season that starts October 5 will be the last for host Tom Bergeron, who is retiring from AFV after 15 years. We'll be sorry to see Tom go. But who will replace him?

My vote: a man who can deliver terrible jokes with a wink or a fake duh look or whatever it takes to sell the gag, the former host of Talk Soup and current host of Wipeout, Skunk Boy himself: John Henson.

He's just the kind of professional knucklehead who cold make a brilliant career out of this long-running goof-a-rama. He's been an actor for a long time, so he's certain to have experience working with live audiences. And he's been hosting Wipeout for years, so AFV would be running your local chapter of Mensa by comparison.

Other possible hosts:

Ryan Reynolds: Not sure he's going to be allowed to make any movies for a while, so he may be available.

Michael Bloomberg: He already thinks we're all morons.

Bill Clinton: He'll do anything for a buck.

Michael Strahan: Football, Subway ads, dealing with Kelly Ripa... Apparently he can do anything for a buck.

Larry the Cable Guy: If he could take the pay cut, he'd be dynamite -- hell, the show is a real-life version of the material he's been doing for decades.

One of the Kennedys: The ones who are still in public office are pretty useless, and we've seen pretty crappy behavior from the others, but folks still seem to like them. Maybe one of them can do something that requires talent.

John Elliott: Local New York weatherman but former newsman Elliott is one of the more refreshing personalities on TV today, and a great student of TV hosts like Carson.

Craig Ferguson: I wouldn't let any old foreigner host an American show about Americans doing dumb things in dumb ways, but this guy is dumb enough for us!

Tory, Kari, and Grant: They need the work.

Daisy Fuentes: What the hell, give her another shot.

Varmints head to prison at last.

SMALL VARMINTS HERDED INTO PRISON CAMPS

Staff Reports

Thousands of small varmints were herded into prison camps yesterday by their parents, acting under orders by federal, state, and local officials. Prison camps set up in towns and cities across the nation opened their gates to the little sidewinders.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” said Jane Schlobotnick, 35, mother of one of the aforementioned varmints. “I know my little Hector is a dadgum skunk sometimes, but I’ll miss having him around the house.”

Outside a typical detention center for no-good little varmints.

“Society will benefit from this,” assured Samantha Hinkel, 52, superintendent for the Mill Valley Varmint Prison Camps. “These dadblasted horny-toads will benefit from being reformed, in a pleasant environment far from normal human beings.”

The scurrilous bushwhackers had mixed reactions to their incarceration. Some reacted with joy, some indifference; other openly wept.

“I dunno,” said noted hornswoggler Cindy Farris, 5. “It looks okay. Wanna see my pony sticker?”

“I eat dirt,” added her mangy twin brother, Tommy “Butch” Farris, 5.

Bobby Creeholtz, 5, waving a blue plastic dinosaur, said, "Raaaaar!"

The consarned whippersnappers are expected to be incarcerated for a period of at least 12 years (possibly longer, depending on their parents’ finances), except for evenings, weekends, holidays, sick days, and summers.

"The law is the law," said Hinkel. "But normal citizens should be assured that the mangy scalawags are being treated with kindness and respect. By us, at least; not necessarily by one another. After all," she added, "they are varmints."

Taking up space.

"The good news is, we've found that hyperspace is real and may be useable! The bad news is that it will only shave 45 minutes off the trip."

Shoutout.

The latest in the Adventures of Crep I Should Not Eat:

The clever folks at Just Born are very eager these days to make Peeps part of your daily snacking. Peeps aren't just for the Easter Bunny anymore.

Those little marshmallow chicks have been Easter treats since 1953. Then they started making marshmallow treats for other holidays, like Halloween and Christmas---the chocolate-covered marshmallow Christmas trees were particularly bodacious, by the way, and that's coming from a guy who never much cared for Mallomars. This year I spotted Fourth of July Peeps. But now, like Just Born's other treats (Mike & Ike, Hot Tamales, Goldenberg's Peanut Chews, et al) we are meant to love the Peep every day of the year.

Let's get a couple of the little fellas out of the bag and have a look.

Just a couple of chocolate-flavored Peeps, out to change the world.

My review: Eh, not so spectacular. The chocolate flavor is hardly there. The marshmallow is okay, as it always is, but what is marshmallow but sugar? And these have a little crystallized sugar on the outside as well, but I think not as much as a regular Peep. Also, being sold in bags, they get a little squashed. You note that regular Peeps always come in cartons to retain that Peep integrity.

On the whole a bit disappointing. Will probably try the other flavors---Strawberry Crème and Sour Watermelon (!)---because of my spirit of adventure, my hopeless addiction to sugar, and the What the hell? factor that can only come from a sour watermelon marshmallow*. Further reports to come, no doubt, and aren't you all thrilled?

* In real life, watermelon is either sweet or tasteless, but never sour unless you pickle it or you live in Jolly Rancher Land.

Manhattan scenes.

Frat boys on the town.

Yeah, it's probably the stupidest cartoon I ever made. Sue me.