One thousand, two-hundred sixteen.

1,216 of these things, dating back to April 1, 2006. A few of you may have read all of them. I suspect that if you have, your eyesight isn't what it used to be. I'm not sure what happens to them - if they just stay here in perpetuity or if one day the link will say "Internet Explorer cannot display the webpage."

Mostly, they're rants about something or other that's in the news or some topical issue that's probably irrelevant by now. That's how it is with rants. They seem important at the time, but looking back, we wonder what we were so twisted about. Like all that paperwork and junk that we "save, because you never know when we'll need it." We don't need it.

Today is Cinco de Mayo, which I think means that it's the fifth of May in Mexico. Actually, it translates to May five. The fifth of May would be Quinto de Mayo, but I digress.

In America, it's another excuse to go out and get drunk. This time, it isn't green beer, mint juleps or whatever people drink on New Year's Eve. This time, it's for Mexico, and we know how much we love Mexico and how much we owe them for being who they are and for helping us become who we are, which right now, is a nation of obsessive hand-washers.

It's a shame that all of our holidays can't be named after the day they fall. Vierde van Juli or quinto venti del mese di Dicembre. OK, that's a little wordy. The trouble is that almost all of our holidays roam around the calendar because we like them to fall on a Monday. Personally, I like a Wednesday holiday to break up the week. Pero estoy curioso de esa manera.

I'm pretty sure this Swine Flu thing is a big fizzle. A few thousand people die from the flu every year regardless, so I'm left to wonder how many more (if any more) will perish because of this. Pennsylvania recently confirmed their first case, which seems odd since it's been all over the newspaper and TV for a month. My first guess is that it's the news media stirring the pot over a bad head cold, but that's just experience talking.

It is May, you know (Mayo) and May is Sweeps month in TV-land. That translates to "Scare the Gringos shitless." They run stories about "How Your House is Killing You" or "Toys That Can Make Your Children Gay." Stuff like that drags in viewers, which drags in ratings which drags in ... anyone? ... Dinero, mi amigo.

Then, there are the Gypsy Moths. The Courier-Post ran an article on Sunday that told us that local municipalities are cutting the moth spraying efforts because of budget constraints. We went through similar gypsy moth scares in 1972, 1981 and 1990. Later, we found out that the trees were able to defend themselves without expensive chemicals. Besides, I'm guessing that gypsy moths won't destroy half as many trees as New Jersey's rampant development has destroyed over the past 37 years.

I wish they'd come up with a spray program for that.

Happy May fifth, bitches. Drink a shot of Tequila from a dirty glass just to show the Swine Flu who's the boss around here.

Su pésimo cerdos no asustarme.