Remember when Ren and Stimpy became "the first cat and chihuaha to pass through the eye of a black hole"? They climbed a mountain of stinky socks and Ren imagined himself winning a million bucks and the Nobel Peace Prize.

Get it? All he had to do was find socks! He didn't have to liberate any dangerous nations or restore democracy to any previously-oppressed peoples. Just find lost sock and win! See, it's funny because it's true!

Eh, that's the problem with utopianism. It's all fun and games until people stop playing along. They got whole history books on what happens then. Gird your loins.

In other tales of Fabian ecstasy, I was in NYC earlier in the week. Now there's another collective that can't wait to go bankrupt. Wednesday was such a windy day that I knew my flight out would be delayed, so I kept checking the website. And the website kept telling me "on time." I knew enough to be wary, telling people in the office: "They usually wait until I get to the gate to announce that a flight is late."

But I got myself signed up for an e-mail alert anyway. Two hours before the departure time they sent a message saying "on time." I got to the airport itself and the monitor near ticketing said "on time." I went through security, got to my gate and that's when the e-mail hit my Blackberry telling me the flight would be late.

Asshats. I knew it all along. What kills me is this: so did they.