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Steroids, Bonaduce, Pamela Anderson: Little Things GRRR a Lot

Quick, what is it that gets you the most angry?

Is it your hypochondriac friend who is always ailing just a little bit more than you? How about those stupid Al Qaeda training videos that make their way around the Internet?

These are the people we fear? A bunch of hooded hoodlums practicing basic, scripted maneuvers like a scene out of the 1980s martial arts flick "Kill and Kill Again?" Please. They look like bad renditions of Saturday afternoon Kung Fu Theater, minus "The Flying Guillotine."

Or is it steroid use among our over-hyped, overpaid athletes that Grrrs you?

Personally, I don't care if athletes take steroids. While it may help them look like action figures, they don't make up for the other guy on the team who misses the grounder to third or throws interceptions once every four downs.

To think that professional sports organizations want us to believe the majority of athletes don't do 'roids is an insult to our intelligence. Just admit that it's all a sham and move on. We're still going to buy the tickets and tune in to the games.

You know what really GRRRS me? The fact that money makes everything OK. Since when are fines or lawsuits the equivalent to justice?

"I'm gonna sue you!"

Yeah, OK. Sue, sue, sue! That'll show those big bad companies and those rich athletes and pop stars.

And if I see one more article about how Britney Spears "smashed" her car into a parked vehicle while driving without a valid license I'm going to scream. Did you see that video? She was inching along at about negative three miles per hour.

Hardly constitutes a smash, but hey, it sounds a lot better than say, "Britney dented a parked vehicle with her own while inching her way into a parking spot ... without a valid driver's license."

I also don't want to see another picture of Lindsay Lohan and her father Michael visiting at rehab alongside stories that say things like, "Dad Michael told us that Lindsay told him she's going to set the record straight on how he was a good father."

The operative words there are "Dad Michael told us..." The only person who really cares if that ex-con gets the Father of the Year award is Michael Lohan.

Typical self-righteous behavior from one who recently found "Jesus," if you ask me. I didn't know Jesus was lost, never mind looking to be found by people needing a shot in the public relations arm.

Who are the idiots who actually care if Michael Lohan was a good father or not? How in the holy living hell does that affect your life?

Here's a hint, Michael. Your daughter is in rehab. Her career is in ruins. Your marriage was a joke. And you've been to jail. Twice.

Speaking of affecting your life, a recent study by the Hair Sciences Center of Colorado finds that bald men are less successful than men with full heads of hair.

Yeah, because Michael Jordan inspired thousands of men to go bald, even when they had no receding hairline, because he was unsuccessful.

British actor Jason Statham has inspired thousands of mini-"Transporters" on both sides of the pond. Look at aspiring actor Bob Henkel and tell me he wouldn't be a great CEO or mob boss character in any movie, because of the fact that he's bald.

I mean, seriously, lack of hair is not my problem.

I suffer from having just the opposite. If I don't keep my hair cut high and tight, I look more like Frankie Valli than the guy playing him in "Jersey Boys" on Broadway. Can you say bouffant?

But what's the deal with the waxing of the eyebrows that went from practical maintenance with say, Luke Perry of "90210" fame, to the completely ridiculous with "Growing Up Gotti?"

The Dapper Don's grandkids looked like they were auditioning to play the Heat Miser in the high school production of "The Year Without a Santa Claus."

And the trend continues. Even in mixed martial arts I see muscle-bound tattooed tough guys with eyebrows that would make Greta Garbo jealous. Let them grow, boys. Let them grow.

There's just so much that GRRRs me.

Take GQ magazine, for instance. I subscribe to it and others, like Esquire, in order to keep myself informed on all things men. But while I enjoyed the "50 Most Stylish Men of the Past 50 Years" issue of the former, I didn't enjoy lugging around the 25-pound magazine that was chock full of advertising pages.

If I wanted a workout on my commute, I would take up "Gray's Anatomy" as subway reading.

In the bizarre and ever GRRRing world of celebrity, former "Partridge Family" child-star turned muscle-bound radio talk host Danny Bonaduce will not be charged for tossing "Survivor" alum Jonny Fairplay onto his face during the FOX Reality Channel's Really Awards show.

Fairplay's face was pretty roughed up, and he underwent a two-and-a-half hour surgery to repair broken teeth. Ouch.

If you ask me, both of these guys are knuckleheads. It was clear Fairplay was playing, and the reaction by Bonaduce was completely uncalled for.

Bonaduce was lucky the DA didn't see it the way I saw it. He won't be charged with any crime. Of course, Fairplay will most likely sue anyway, because, well, money makes everything better, right?

And what's the deal with women like Pamela Anderson who get married time and time again? Does she actually know the meaning of love, or does she just like wearing the dress?

Do you ever wonder if you went into the wrong business?

Every Christmas when I read about bonuses that Wall Street traders cash in, I wonder if I should have been a broker. Nowadays, when I read about people like Kevin Federline or Rick Salomon(Anderson's latest hubby) cashing in on relationships with rich women, I wonder if I should have been a professional lover, exclusive to rich, dumb women (Salomon famously made that sex tape with Paris Hilton).

Surely, if athletes can risk their health by using steroids in order to make a buck, I could survive a few Hepatitis C scares for the reward of a decent divorce settlement every few years.

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