We felt lousy about cracking on cordial Canadian Alex Trebek, so to even the score, we keyed Pat Sajak’s car. And left a bag of flaming dog poo on John O’ Hurley’s door (survey says…number one way to expunge guilt!).

On Wednesday, the Cubs reached an agreement with Japanese fielder Kosuke Fukudome. If the signing doesn’t work out, Chicagoans could have a very profane new name for Wrigley Field.

Please phrase your concern in the form of a question. Alex Trebek was hospitalized Tuesday after suffering a minor heart attack. Does having two arteries blocked constitute double jeopardy?

Las Vegas has announced plans to open a museum about the mafia by 2010, as a tribute to the city’s felonious founding fathers. Why pay to learn about crime when you can just stroll the strip (who knows what ones you’ll witness and/or be unwillingly involved in if you choose that option)? Admission is expected to cost a carton of smokes or however much dough ya got on ya, mac. Certain to be the top seller in the gift shop: cement shoes.

The Samari Rolle — steamed crab exquisitely picked apart, with sour grapes.

The U.S. teen birth rate has risen for the first time in 14 years, a new government report reveals (guess we know what all that titillating texting leads to). Our advice to all the female women out there: stay on the web — and the pill. No one ever got knocked up by the internet (though we heard Tila Tequila contracted herpes through a Myspace message) or reading, for that matter (think of books as knowledge condoms. Magazines are like the rythm method –enjoyable but you’re not learning anything). Here’s our promise to you, ladies: The only thing we’ll try to impregnate you with is laughter — at least until we’re older and wealthier, then we’ll start to sire kids at a rate that would put Travis Henry to shame.

Underground rapper Pimp C, best know for guest spots on the dreadful singles, Big Pimpin’ and Sippin’ on Some Sizzerp, has died. Unfortunately, he didn’t take Vitamin C with him. No word on the whereabouts of Pimps A and B.

for Quiet Riot’s lead singer, Kevin DuBrow. Turns out his metal health wasn’t so good. Cum on feel the respect. Elsewhere, stunt man Evel Knievel has jumped into that big canyon in the sky. How can a man who’s first and last names have portions pronounced as “evil” and whose occupation involved the word “devil” wind up in Heaven? Death leaves so many questioned unanswered, in the case of both these men, their families and loved ones will undoubtedly spend countless hours asking, “What are we going to do with all these velour rhinestone jackets?”

Our inspiring quote of the day comes from none other than our 32nd President, who famously said,
“You don’t truly understand what it is to be a man until you’ve been pimped out.”
-Franklin Delano Roosevelt
It explains how he served four terms and helped lead this nation through the trying times of the Great Depression. Yes, our Commander-in-Chief, as part of the New Deal he created, moonlighted as a man-whore under the aliases F.D. Hard and Spankin’ D. Rose-He-Felt.

Yuks were so few and far between in last nights’ heavily-promoted Comedy Central special “Last Laugh ’07″ that the network might have considered re-naming it, “Least Laugh.” A rounder Dave Attell didn’t mean his material was well-rounded. He couldn’t complete a sentence without mentioning booze or vaginas–it’s like listening to Charlie Sheen’s inner thoughts, meaning we’re all dumber for hearing it. Some of Lewis Black’s “jokes” didn’t even contain punchlines, they were just shouted facts (bottled water is a sham! We’ve heard Jim Gaffigan’s routine on it, which was short and silly, whereas Black’s was more like a lecture, even including a “when I was growing up…” story). I’m a little concerned about Black, Generation X’s version of Andy Rooney. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if Vegas had on-stage aneurysm odds posted for Black; he might become the first person to ever to have his cause of death listed as “pure political rage.” Black can be great, but he seemed so livid that it was hindering the coherency of his act. He even admitted in the opening that there was far too much fodder-worthy material to cover it all in the time allotted. I didn’t even make it to D.L. Hughley, who does display flashes of Chris Rock-level poignancy at times, but promo clips showing him riffing on O.J. weren’t promising. The show felt slapped together (was this really the best collection of comedians they could assemble?) and was aired way too early (it’s the start of December and it’s not like Comedy Central’s lineup is packed). A major and unexpected letdown.