Pesky Pseudo Psychic Prize Goes to: AEI

This week's Pesky Pseudo Psychic Prize Goes to Fred Kagan of the American Enterprise Institute. On Monday, Fred, whose chins are listed in the Guinness Book of World Records, told the Iraq Planning Group's Phase IV Conference in Washington, DC:

“The first thing I want to say is that: The Civil War in Iraq is over. And until the American domestic political debate catches up with that fact, we are going to have a very hard time discussing Iraq on the basis of reality. I’d now like to invite all of you to join me for some lovely chocolate gumdrops left me by the Easter Bunny.”

Okay, I made up the part about the Easter Bunny. But in case you've been hiding under a rock, or writing policy for the Bush administration, or both, less than 24 hours after this Right Wing Think Tank Bozo’s comments, McClatchy News Service reported:

"With Iraq's top leaders directing the battle, Iraq's army and national police pressed a major operation Tuesday to wrest control of the southern port city of Basra from the Shiite Mahdi Army militia. Fighting between government forces and the militia quickly spread through Iraq's south and into Baghdad."

As of this writing, Baghdad is in lockdown, the Green Zone is under rocket attacks that have led to the death of two Americans and two of the Vice President’s guards. (No, not our Veep, their Veep).

As our winnner, Fred receives an historical, autographed photo of John McCain strolling through that Baghdad marketplace with 100 of his closest, armed-to-the-teeth, friends.

For more information on the AEI and some of their other similiarly well-researched policy studies, click here, here and here.

Eli Stone Wins Psychic Shaker Pesky Prize

Maybe he IS Psychic. regardles, the first ever Prestidigitator Pesky Prize (#5) goes to the writers, actors, executive producers and staff psychics of the ABC program “Eli Stone.” The topic of their March 20th episode was their protagonist, Eli Stone, sensing a message from God that an earthquake would hit the San Francisco Bay area immediately.

Hey, it’s a fictional program. It was conceived, written and shot weeks or months ago. Yet starting less than three hours before the program aired, and continuing until a few hours after it ended, a series of 20 non-fiction Earthquakes, called a “swarm,” really hit in the East Bay area near San Francisco.

PESKY PRIZE # 3: Keith 'n' Patrick

Let’s unleash a big round of smoky applause for our first ever tie for The Pesky Prize, the World's Greatest Honor.

Our first selectee is soon-to-be late actor Patrick Swayze, denied the privacy of death by a Media that chose to thank him for entertaining us by outing his End Game. First the National Enquirer revealed that the Dirty Dancing star had less than six weeks to live due to Pancreatic Cancer. Then they followed up by snapping Swayze with a lit butt in his mouth. Then editorialists tut-tutted him for smoking when he already had Cancer. Yeah, a dying guy with a cancer stick in his mouth is a terrible role model and will no doubt turn lots of kids on to the nasty habit.

Our second smoking selectee is frequent winner of Rock ‘n’ roll Dead Pools, Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards, who in a recent interview with the London Daily Mail confirmed he still “smokes weed all the damn time.” More bad news for society, since this means handsome young guitarists hoping to emulate Keith’s matinee idol appearance will no doubt race out and pick up some chronic right away.

PESKY PRIZE #2: The Unfaithful Eight

Every time the phone rings, their pucker factor goes up to Eleven. When their accountants ask about a “couple of unusual withdrawals” in that special account they maintain, they stammer and sweat. When dark sedans circle or cop cars prowl outside their homes, their blood pressure spikes. When “Love Potion #9” plays on the radio, they change the station. When someone suggests “hanging is too good” for Client #9, they change the topic.

“They” are Emperor Club VIP Clients Numbers One through Eight.

The Unfaithful Eight, AKA Eight Men (not yet) Out(ted), are the first anonymous winners of the World’s Most Valuable Award, The Pesky Prize. The second ever Pesky Prize is awarded anonymously because the public-at-large and, more importantly, Pesky Gadabout, doesn’t know the recipient’s identity—yet. And it’s a sure bet they dearly want it to stay that way. But Pesky knows the Unfaithful Eight’s time will, er, come--faster than you can say “just leave it on the dresser.”

For them, it won’t be long before the fit hits the shan. Even as we speak, tabloid editors around the world are bellowing at bedraggled reporters to find fresh meat for the biggest story of sex, politics, and money 2008 has produced. Pesky suspects reporters might find them either enjoying one for the road or in church, thanking the Patron Saint of Sexual Misconduct for picking Eliot Spitzer, not them, to take one for the team. They’re left to wonder how much longer Spitzer will remain the Sole Sultan of Assignation, the Single Swallow of Capistrano, the Lone Arranger of Sexual Danger, the Solitary Subject of the Media’s Sizzling Spotlight.

Soon enough the Unfaithful Eight will have to convince their spouses to get dressed up and stand in front of hundreds of reporters, each thinking the same thought: “that’s the one he didn’t want to have sex with.” And is there a crueler sight than the crestfallen, heartbroken spouse, enticed by the man who betrayed her, standing bravely by his side?

And finally, Pesky wonders, could there ever be a better moment in live TV if, following this sad cheater’s waltz, in the instant after hubby finishes his Mea Culpa, wifey leans toward the mike and says: “For those of you who are interested, and that includes the scumbag standing next to me, I’ve just started doing the pool boy.”