17 February 2003
Well, they call it the streak
About one month into this Web thing, I was scratching around for topics rather like now, as a matter of fact and I decided to post something about one of my more ignoble distinctions: the fact that every year, I take a stab at predicting Playboy's Playmate of the Year, and every year, that stab catches some of my own flesh.
At the time, I'd made thirteen consecutive wrong guesses. Now it's nineteen. You'd think this would be the year, huh? Not on your tintype, Binky. My secret sources within the Mansion (yeah, right) have informed me that my twentieth annual pick is every bit as prescient as its predecessors, which is to say not at all.
I'm not going to be posting the official results until the actual PMOY issue (usually June) arrives, since I don't really know who the PMOY is only who she isn't. I am, however, going to take some extra time this year to frown and pout and mutter and grumble. (Last year, I didn't start FPMG mode until the 27th of April. On this topic, anyway.)
(Aside to SWINTBN: As His Purpleness might say, "Nothing compares 2 U.")