AT LEAST HE'S WELL HUNG
David Blaine has now completed one week of his wacky attempt to spend 44 days hanging in a glass box over the Thames River. Meanwhile, Londoners have taken to heaping abuse on the illusionist turned crackpot. He has at various times been flashed by women, had eggs thrown at him, and been yelled at by hecklers.
One has to wonder about the logistics of pulling off a stunt like this. For example, if he's in a solid glass enclosure with no privacy, how does he go the bathroom? Maybe one can be a little discreet while doing number one, but what about number two? Does he actually drop his pants and sit on a bucket, or what? And how does he dispose of his waste products once they exit his body? Does he lower the bucket to an assistant on the ground? And how much are they paying THAT guy?
What about bathing? Regardless of how much deodorant he may have gone in there with, 44 days is a long time to go without a shower. That would certainly seem to have ramifications for London's air quality down the road.
These are very real concerns that keep me up at night, at least when I'm not busy obsessing on Ben & J.Lo.

A BOY NAMED SUE NO MORE
The man in black, Johnny Cash, has gone to the Grand Ol' Opry in the sky. He had been ill for some time, so this was to some extent expected. Even if you weren't a country music music fan, you at least who Cash was. There was just something about his face, voice, and image that crossed the lines between music genres.
No word on whether St. Pete will allow him to continue wearing black.

TWO'S COMPANY NOW
But the news about the death of John Ritter shocked everybody. As you've probably heard by now, he died while on the set of his current series.
Hard to believe that Mr. Furley has outlived Jack Tripper.