I heard a commercial yesterday for a smoke alarm. The question posed was “What would you save if you could?”

They had people saying what they would save. It was your typical stuff: photo albums, dad’s war memorabilia, grandma’s silver … things no one would want to lose. Except nobody said “my kids,” “my wife,” not even “my dog”!

Who needs to wake Dad up, when you can just make sure you grab the bayonet he took off a dead Vietcong? After all, you could sell that on eBay to help pay for your new furniture.

While I’m on the topic of collecting things, there is a show called Hoarders. It’s about people who “can’t” throw things away. Not just normal collectibles; ANYTHING. Newspapers, garbage, toenail clippings … nothing gets thrown out. The show does interventions with these people, puts them in therapy, and blah blah blah.

This should be the shortest show ever. Somebody should just knock on the hoarder’s door, and when he opens it, the person should be open-hand-slapped and have a box of garbage bags shoved into his gut. Cut to the graphic – Brought to you by Hefty – and then roll the credits.

Another fantastic show is called I Shouldn’t Be Alive. It involves people doing things like skiing or canoeing when their plans go slightly awry.

A particular episode was about a guy who was hunting and was mauled by a bear. While explaining how it happened, he said he was minding his own business when the bear rushed him. He curled up into a ball, and eventually, the bear stopped smacking him and was just kinda hovering over him. At that point, he thought it would be a good idea to punch the bear in the face … which, of course, led to the bear chewing on him for about 10 minutes.

As the guy was describing this scene, he made it seem like he was out there enjoying nature, not looking to bother anything.

I want to interview the bear (provided that he could communicate his thoughts rather than just make bear noises and gnaw my face off). I’d bet his side of the story is a little different:

“So, I’m sh–tting in the woods, and suddenly, I see this guy with a gun in my living room. I finish up, wander over to him, and say, ‘Excuse me, sir, but I believe you must be lost…’

“He starts freaking out, screaming and crying, and I’m pretty sure he peed himself. I’m trying to get him to calm down, and he passes out. I give him a few shakes, lick his face … I’m trying everything, because the last thing I need is cops showing up.

“He opens his eyes, and I say, ‘Thank God, I thought you were dea…’ WHAM! He punches me in the face! I’m not a violent guy, but I had to tear his arm off…”

Wow, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten those special brownies.

Speaking of special brownies, some wannabe hippie apparently drove his car through the Quad at LSU. He stopped, got out, and started taking all his junk out of his car.

When people called campus police, it is “alleged” that it took them 20 minutes to get there. They said they didn’t think it was an emergency.

My problem with this is twofold, or threefold if you count the fact that it was a white guy who at one time had dreadlocks:

One: I’m fat, and it never took me 20 minutes to get anywhere on that campus, and I was on foot and usually drunk.

Two: Didn’t think it was an emergency? In my years as a student, tailgater, and stalker of college girls, I never once saw a car parked in the Quad. Hell, you couldn’t park on the street for more than 37 seconds without the cops showing up to write a ticket for it; how is he doing doughnuts in the Quad and can’t get them there?