The Passenger relishes this time of year. Wanna know why? Because I don't have to go back to high school - not today, not tomorrow or ever again, unless my temporal fix gets screwed somehow. Tell you the truth, I kinda miss those days - sipping from the wellspring of knowledge, enjoying those extracurricular activities and trying to prolong those moments of solace, as I revolted against the stream of senseless propaganda that was pumped into my noggin seven hours a day, five days a week, nine months a year for four freaking years ...

I feel for you, young America, I really do. Like the man says: "I salute you. And I crush your heads." Take THIS back to school, suckers!

Those were the days. I mean, when I was growing up, if my social studies instructor invoked the name "Clinton," all studies would cease. Deep bass would kick in, we'd stand on top of our desks like those kids in "Dead Poets Society" and just shake our boo-tays until our principal, Sir Nose D'Void of Funk, screamed "Put me down! Let go my leg!" Then we would just splank the poor dope with the Bop Gun, and the party would go on until the Mothership came down and hit us with the Flashlight. The One Nation P-Funk Page brings those happy times back with news, views and clues pertaining to the only Clinton that's ever mattered to the Passenger. (And George has better hair than Bill - nyah, nyah.) This is a fan site done with love, integrity and devotion to its subject, and it's good to know that the Clinton name is being upheld somewhere. If there was ever a time to paint the White House black, baby, it's now.
 

Yes, children, I Know What You Did Last Summer ... watched a bunch of crappy movies, one after the other. You've got your "Dead Man on Campus," you've got your "Can't Hardly Wait" and I've got my gag reflex and this fascinating site devoted to writer/producer/director John Hughes. Sure, the films of Hughes' "teen" period were broad and a little cloying at times, but they helped to refine the perception of teenagers at a time they so desperately needed refinement, grounding and definition. (It's not like we could look to Reagan for guidance; the man just wanted all those damn kids off his lawn.) "The Breakfast Club" showed that there were some troubled waters raging under the average teen's calm surface tension - and proved that they could solve those conflicts by their own means. "Sixteen Candles," "Some Kind Of Wonderful" and "Pretty In Pink" dealt with transitional love in a honest, touching manner. And "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" - well, it's Dan Quayle's favorite film ever, but I won't hold that against Hughes. What I will hold against him is "Curly Sue," "Dennis The Menace," "Flubber" and every formulaic film he's had his hand in since 1990, the year he took the money from "Home Alone" and ran like hell. Where's that guy with the hook for a hand when we need him?
 

Cliff Notes have saved many a teenage butt from certain annhiliation. There's no need to read that Hemingway, Faulkner, Dostoevsky or Chaucer while Cliff is still making those fabulous little yellow books than condense an author's spirit, language and intent into the literary equivalent of a wedgie. (The sensation is brief, but the memory lingers on and on.) The good people behind Cliff's Notes for the Pulitzer Prize (would like to see Cliff rewarded with the highest honor an author can receive. Will Cliff prevail? Judging by the testimonials accorded Cliff ... well, let's just say that teenage America would sanctify Cliff in a hot minute, if only they knew what that meant. Swell tongue-in-cheek fun, though I wondered if there was an abbreviated version of the site I could browse.