Our moms think we're clever.

Somehow, though, we don't feel

very clever as we try to

decipher the complex textual and

iconographic interplay of

EarthLink Network's latest print

ad: "Sure, there was life on the

Internet before TotalAccess[tm],"

we're told, "It just sucked."

Followed by the dead fish. Now,

would this be a tip of the hat,

unconscious assimilation, egregious

trademark violation, a cheap

ploy to get mentioned in Suck,

or simply more evidence of our

well-explored predilection

towards solipsism? No matter,

we're too excited over our

spanking new logo to muster up a

temper tantrum...

Continuing in our descent, we

just had to bow our heads and

have a good cry when we saw the

cover blurb on this week's

SF Weekly. Some of you might

recall editor Jack Shafer's

Nov. 1 exploration into the wit,

wisdom, and scatological panache

that is suck.com - to date, he's

the only journalist that's been

crazed enough to brave the

all-nighter Suck regimen.

Well, to the extent that our

heads swelled from that issue's

cover proclamation of Suck being

the "future of the Web," we've

suffered a massive deflating

over this week's proclamation of

a new future, albeit non-Web. No

hard feelings, though - if we

knew any tricks for getting our

hands around the throat of the

future, we'd choke until our

fingers were as blue as its

neck, too.

Although most restaurants must

grapple with the obvious problem

of titillating a net viewership

with their saucy dishes, it was

only a question of time before

a clever marketer took both

matters and reader surveys into

hand and made the weighty

observation that the average

heavy-use web surfer is

essentially a higher-tech

reincarnation of your typical

Hooters patron.

Hooters has been so kind as to

provide us with all the class

their establishment has to

offer, online. From creation

myth to information on creating

your own booming franchise, the

whole Hooters experience is

delivered. But don't yet start

beating your chest - they haven't

forgotten the real reason you

stopped by, and we all know it

wasn't the food. If you're not

turned on by men working in the

kitchen.

From tits to ass: produced for

the first time last year by the

San Diego Zoo, the Animal Buns

calendar sold out in 60 days.

Billed as a "tasteful,

behind-the-scenes look at

animals," we think it spanks of

anything butt: Animal Buns

provides desperate gift-givers

with traditionally safe cute

animal shots, and inserts a

little cheek, placing the

product somewhere in the area of

"hip." Heeding the Designer

Imposters maxim, desire often

exists on a continuum. If you

like these images, you'll love

learning more about fellating a

stallion (of the non-Homo

sapien variety).

After 10 years of being a

solution in search of a problem,

ISDN has finally hit the big

time as the connection of choice

for bandwidth-hungry Web

junkies. Of course, with new

competition arriving on the

scene in the form of cable

modems, you'd figure that the

telcos would be eager to hold on

to their early lead. Which makes

PacBell's and US West's recent

filings to raise their rates on

ISDN services all the more

perplexing. US West wants to

triple its flat rate price,

while PacBell hopes to eliminate

flat rate ISDN for home use

completely, making ISDN the

newest zero-sum game - now that

hardware has become affordable,

the connection won't be. At

least the early adopters can

spout a new lame acronym

expansion: from It Still Does

Nothing to I Spend Dough

Needlessly.

We were tiring of the gifts of

Petrus, so when ZUG sent us

Vienna Sausages (inside an

appropriately labeled "Caution:

Vienna Sausages Enclosed" tyvek

mailer), we were nothing but

flattered. Until we discovered

Wired received 80 or so of the

decaying little links, to our 3.

ZUG's complaint? That ZUG never

received a full-page Wired

spread, while Suck did. A hint,

John: never send folks you're

trying to impress rotting

vegetables or dead meat. Use the

tried and true classic instead:

cash, wadded up into little

balls.