That's right, bitches, my latest column is out.
As an added bonus to this week's column, here's a section that I removed because it digressed too much and made the column too long:
"I used to take evil glee in retelling the story to anyone who hadn't heard it: Paul had been languishing in the Pacific Ocean when he allowed the expensive ring that his dear sweet wife had meticulously chosen to represent their undying love to slip off his finger and into the shallows, where it was no doubt later found by a retiree with a metal detector who hocked it for enough boxed wine to build a small fort.
Of course, when I say "allowed," I might as well say "willed." Why, in his negligence toward the object that signified a sacred unification before the eyes of God, he could just as easily have ripped the ring from his finger, spat on it, and heaved it into the sea while screaming obscenities directed toward his wife, family and country."