But of course the Passenger is looking for skilled assistants, mes amis! Department Lemur has a long, distinguished tradition of hiring full-contact freakazoids like yourself. Sadly, I have no paid positions to offer right now (extra-special Lemur Michelle does most, if not all, of the HTML work while we crack open beers), but all of that may change when my million-plus-dollar MicroSatan grant comes through - an event that will precede my immediate relocation to the more artistically conducive climate of the closest tropical zone that doesn't extradite for fraud.

The Passenger's responsibility won't end on those sunny shores, friend. I will need plenty of souls to keep digging up trends, sights and sounds on the web, while I sip my Caipirinha. If you think you can find sites devoted to funky art, sharp beats and ... and ... other stuff, by all means, start sending them to passenger@vegaslounge.com now, so your face will be fresh in my mind when the (stuff) comes down. Hold on to that passport!
 

Peter Gilstrap, Peter Gilstrap, what makes your site devoted to René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur so exceedingly fair? Could it be your funny and thoughtful archived columns from the Phoenix New Times (or the link to your new column in the L.A. New Times)? Or your ever-mounting collection of Jesus of the Week photos, a sprightly visual record of this world's savvy saviors and "Chippen-Christs?" Hey, I wouldn't be too surprised if it were your collection of offbeat vinyl LPs - each one summed up with a poignantly witty comment! Whatever the case, it adds up to some fine reading, and if René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur were around today, he would almost certainly proclaim, "Who the HELL am I?"
 

I ran out to the middle of the northbound lanes of Valley View and peeled Guy off the asphalt. "Who hit you?" I asked. "Did you get a make on the plate?" "Not exactly," he eventually managed to sputter out. "But I did recognize it as an Ohio plate, circa 1973, because of the white on black lettering and the dangling inquisitive 'Seat Belts Fastened?' stamped across the top." "Wow, Guy, that's amazing. How did you know that?" "Because I'm an avid fan of Michael C. Kustermann's 'License Plates of the World' page. It features photos of license plates from nearly every country in the world that has cars. Quite a few of the plates are striking and well designed - handsome as well as utilitarian. The section on animal and bird plates alone makes it worth a visit." "Wow, that sounds unbelievably cool and unique! I gotta check that page out," I declared, and ran back into the office, leaving Guy to be unfortunately re-flattened by a New Beetle bearing Nevada's fabulous "Protect Lake Tahoe" plates. You can see that plate on the site, too!
 

Many would have you believe that The Brunching Shuttlecocks' evolutionary pinnacle is the Alanis Morrissette lyrics generator, ripped from the public-offering soul of the Supposed Former Nickelodeon Contract Player. And while it is considerable fun to play the angry, angry harmonica of sensitive Girlie Chewbacca for a day, the real fun, dear reader, is all around. It's in The Self-Made Critic's review of Sam Raimi's latest film - which, in deference to the director's cult film catalog, the SMC dubs "Evil Dead 4: A Simple Plan." ("While Bill Paxton can be amusing at times, I miss Bruce Campbell's Ash. Personally, if they ever make Evil Dead 5, I hope they can bring him back.") It's in Lore Fitzgerald Sjšberg's evil comic strip beatnik, who suggests parents teach their impressionable offspring about drinking in the following manner: "Chapter one - Vodka." It's in the straight-up appraisals of classic "Schoolhouse Rock" numbers ("Conjunction Junction: This song speaks to the humanity within us all, especially that portion of our humanity which wears a little train conductor's outfit"). It doesn't come any funnier than this, children. The humor of The Brunching Shuttlecocks is in our hearts, in our ears, in our eyes, there beneath the blue suburban skies ....
 

Once again, the Passenger goes off subject to direct you to an important reference page. (Actually, it's been so long since I started this damn page that I don't remember what the subject was. Let it go, let it go.) To paraphrase The Artist, I'm here to tell ya: the two bits you left under your napkin today are gonna send you straight to hell. Learn to tip your server, you cheap-assed tax-and-spender! Allow the Tipping Page to reform you, make you into a decent human being. A tip calculator will put a 10, 15, or 20 percent gratuity to any amount you type in. For those on the go, a comprehensive index of suggested tips for "services rendered" personnel - from barbers to skycaps to chambermaids - will vault you out of the "cheap foreigner" ghetto into the rarefied air of the seasoned world traveler. Dig deep, buddy! The way the big wheel turns, you may be somehow indebted to that nice server tomorrow - and those brave food schleppers never, ever forget a cheap face like yours!

Were you followed? Good. The mail link to submit your favorite pop culture sites is directly below, disguised as the Passenger's boring old e-mail addy. Strike a blow for the Culturally Deprived! Vaya con dios, amigos y amigas!