Hold off sending that box o' chocolates, because The Passenger won't be here next week. I'm taking a brief sabbatical to coincide with the Labor Day holiday. In my absence, the column will be penned by my handsome, dashing personal valet-assassin, Gregory "The Hat" Crosby.

A warning: whatever you do, do not play, hum or even give idle thought to disco music around Gregory - it makes him do bad things with household items. Gregory was not born like you or I, you see. If he mumbles the phrase "the mean hurt," or his lower lip protrudes slightly, start praying fervently.

I'll be back on September 16; hopefully you'll still be here, and with all your arms and legs and stuff. Enjoy!
 

Well, now The Passenger has seen everything. With his innovative Cat Scan contest, Cliff Bleszinski, a video game designer from Southern California, has turned the ever-despairing digital art niche over like a high-resolution flapjack. And while I'm undecided on the contest's artistic merits, and I certainly don't want to get involved in the whole man-woman-cat-love thing, I have to say that I never thought I'd see a scanned cat in my lifetime. Hell, I've never even considered it before; it's just not something you come up with while waiting for a Mr. Misty at the Dairy Queen. Needless to say, Bleszinski is either a bonafide genius or deranged freak (oh, how thin the line), and I appreciated his effort to show the world something never seen before. The hate mail Bleszinski receives is astonishing in its vitriol, and though he deals with his detractors with quick, snappy ease, he's yet to hear from Bob Barker and Doris Day. Here's where the fun begins. Props to you, amigo, and keep your head low.
 

Besides being the Passenger's second-favorite domain name ever (Ms. Catherine Skidmore of New York City holds the trophy) AbbieHoffman.com provides a wealth of valuable services, not the least of which is the "Free Store" concept made famous by Hoffman and Dana Beals. Links to every free webpage provider, every free safety pamphlet and instructional video make up the bulk of the page, with varied other knickknacks (Super glue! Fanny packs! pistachios!) also up for grabs. The standard links to surveillance and search services round out the package, with a letter from J. Edgar Hoover to an associate of Ernest Hemingway topping the cake. Abbie would be proud.
 

"The King is dead. After ruling for more than 40 years from Lost Vegas, Elvis Presley has left America without its leader. Who will become king?" These and a hunka-hunka other burning questions should be answered in high style by Six-String Samurai, a motion picture that dares to match America's love of rock and roll with its equally powerful jones for Commie-bashing. Through the richly interpretive mediums of Kung Fu and the surf rock of the peerless Red Elvises, Six String Samurai promises to wash the previously indelible stains of "Armageddon" and "Blade" from your cerebra. There's nothing the Passenger can tell you that the trailer can't do better; watch it now, and feel the love.