Bless me knuckles, it's St. Patrick's Day. Already the good leprechauns of Department Lemur are knee-deep in the beverages and cuisine endemic to the holiday, and as soon as I get the Black 47 and Young Dubliners CDs going, we'll be halfway across the Atlantic, make no mistake. Who cares if I'm Russian/Spanish? Irish is a state of mind, mate. I've painted meself green for this occasion; don't be afraid.
 

"Nothing happened with the dinner," a man's voice laments, "because you crucified it. God damn you!" I tell you, friends, I hear dialogue like that and I get chills. So gritty, so emotive, so utterly real it rivals Mamet. And here's why: it is real. Back in 1987, two older, drunken blowhards named Peter Haskett and Raymond Huffman shattered the peace of their San Francisco apartment building by engaging high-decibel, impossibly profane arguments; their neighbors, a pair of hipsters named Eddie Lee Sausage and Mitchell D., took to recording them for possible legal leverage. From these recordings came a CD, "Shut Up Little Man", perhaps the most unusual spoken-word concept recordings of the past 20 years (unusual because there was no concept, jack). Movies and plays may still be brewing from this raw material - see Eddie Lee Sausage's Official SULM site for updates from the marketing engine - but even if any of them see production (I see, oh, Danny Aiello and Gary Busey playing to type), they won't stand up to the vitriol of the original tapes. This delightful, unofficial SULM site offers excerpts from the dinner that went bad.
 

"I am not a number ... I am a free man!" These defiant words, when first they were spoken, expressed a notion that had never been previously considered: television avant-pop dramas didn't have to suck out loud. Patrick MacGoohan was (is) The Prisoner, a former government official who is abducted and imprisoned in "The Village," an idyllic seaside gulag where he is only referred to by the designation "Number 6" and slogans such as "A still tongue makes a happy life" are conspicuously posted to demoralize the population. The meanings behind the 17-episode English series have been bandied about since it first aired in 1967; to this day, no one is quite certain what happened, only that they're glad that it did. Use this fan site as a door into the Prisoner's no-exit world, and explore it before some dope tries his hand at a soulless, big budget remake. "The Matrix" doesn't count.
 

Meanwhile, the world gears up for another blast of satire from cartoonist Matt Groening, creator of "The Simpsons" - for my money, still some of the best parody for your buck. Like the venerable "Simpsons," Groening's new series, "Futurama," has a number of fan-fired websites devoted to its many surprises and plot turns ... hey, wait a minute. The show doesn't debut for three more weeks! No matter; the Futurama Archive has images, sounds and scripts from the almost-certain smash hit, along with a cautiously worded editorial advising other would-be fan sites to practice restraint. Sure, why not? A well-done page, with an attention to detail that will allow it to survive the series' actual debut with flying colors. To the future with you!
 

For anyone who has ever felt the sinking of their heart ... for anyone whose eyes have ever lifted the rest of them ... for anyone whose soul has been crushed under fallen expectations, In-fat-u-a-tion is for you. (Which means it's for all of us.) Its smart, savvy design hides its purpose - a sounding board for the yearning and heartbroken - much as your brave facade hides your emotional tumult. Broken into sections from "Foolish Love" ("When you love someone you don't even know") to "Desire" ("When you desire somebody close to you, but you can't tell him/her, tell the world instead"), In-fat-u-a-tion makes a strong case for the web as a confessional: you feel good writing it, others feel better reading it. This site has real, overabundant heart, much like infatuation itself.

Obviously, the best plan of action is to start drinking now. I mean, really drinking. A happy St. Patrick's day to all of ye reptiles - may the road rise to meetcha, and careful where you put that damn shillelagh! Be seeing you!