Asia's Hormonic Convergence

In this great country, we've developed massive industries to keep our frustrated bachelors sedated. And we can sell this stuff to the Chinese, thus solving their bachelor problem while improving our nasty balance of trade deficit.

Here's what we do: First we send the greatest minds on Madison Avenue to China to do what they do so well here -- convince young guys that the way to attract hot babes is to drink the right kind of beer and drive the right kind of car.

After that, we export tons of the great American stuff that keeps our lonely guys calm -- Doritos, nachos, microwave pizza, video games, light beer, Internet porn and cable TV packages that include the Spice Channel and 24-hour coverage of every sport known to man.

That ought to do the trick. But if it doesn't, we can try Plan B, which is an exchange program: The Chinese send us all of their sexually frustrated young men who can hit three-point jump shots or throw 95 mph fastballs or do cool kung fu moves in movies. And we send China our sexually frustrated young women who like to complain that all the good men are either married, gay or in jail.

The good news is: Due to the glories of globalization, these women can still work for American corporations. The bad news is: They'll have to work for 37 cents an hour.

Long Distance Calling Plan

NewWitch is a magazine for hip, young witches and it's not afraid to take on the thorniest theological issues in paganism. In "Dealing With the Dead," for example, voodoo priest Kevin Filan tackles the toughest question in the field of ancestor worship:

"I couldn't get along with my relatives when they were alive -- how am I supposed to venerate them now that they're dead?"

The key, Filan writes, is realizing that worshiping your ancestors does not mean forgetting that they were bigots or creeps: "Respecting your grandmother's struggles and heroism during the Depression doesn't mean you have to pretend her drinking problem didn't exist."

Realizing that, you can start worshiping your ancestors immediately, and Filan explains how.

First, drape a white cloth over a table and place photos of your dead relatives atop it. Add a glass of water and a dish of the deceased's favorite food. But don't cook with salt: "Many departed spirits find salt unpleasant or caustic." Next, burn some copal resin incense. "The dead," Filan writes, "are quite fond of its smell."

Now you're ready to communicate with the dearly departed. "Think of your white table as a telephone with which you can chat with loved ones on the other side," Filan writes. "You may feel a bit awkward or self-conscious at first, but with practice you will find talking with your ancestors as easy and natural as calling a far-away friend."

Filan does add one warning: "Your departed ancestors may retain many of the prejudices and misconceptions they carried in life," he writes. For example: "Your dear Aunt Edna may still wonder when you are going to meet a nice girl and settle down, no matter how many times you explain that you're gay."

That's the great joy of ancestor worship -- even death won't stop the nagging.