Today is the day to try to at least get in some of your 2004 New Years resolution.

Steve D. Will Not Go Away Even If You Want Him To

Hello, you salty citizens of this sea we call the internet! It's me, Steve D! I'm here for yet another installment of my drastically important, and socially necessary, sound offs. Well, that is, I would be, but unfortunately, I've had a pretty good week.

I've been in situations where I was expecting something to really upset me, to really get my goat (not literally -- if it were, that'd really make me mad). But just when the bagger at the grocery store was about to use paper instead of plastic without asking me (oooohhh!), he made the right decision. Or when, at the potato chip inspection factory where I work, my coworker nearly called in sick with a fake illness in order to organize his VHS tapes (arggggg!), but then decided to come in anyway, my mighty sound off voice was silenced. Or when you, the reader of this column, wanted to write in to Claire Zulkey, the lousiest writer of her generation, asking her to stop having me sound off every Thursday (noooo!), but then you decided to go back to your evil Satanic cult, the sword of fury that is my sounding offs was effectively dismantled and sold for scrap.

So it's been an odd week, and everything's seemingly come up roses for yours truly, Steve D., and perhaps, for the first time in my life, I have nothing to sound off upon. But oh, dear reader, to not leave you in the lurch, instead, I'd like to switch gears a bit here and raise the following question that has me wildly concerned:

Who was the actor who played the cab driver in the opening credit sequence to "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air"? You should easily recall him. He appears as the lyrics are spoken as follows: "Pulled up to the house / about seven or eight / and yelled to the cabby / "Yo, homes, smell you later!" Can anyone get me any information concerning what he's doing these days? I worry so greatly for these people that are so ingrained in our collective memories, but who we pay no attention to. They are the forsaken peoples, middling between the D-level celebrity status needed to be mentioned on VH1 or any of its bastard sisters, and total anonymity. Oh, woe unto them. Please help me help them. Info! Now!

With that, I leave you completely unfulfilled, sound-offing-wise, but completely curious as to the mysteries of the universe. It is my way. I fold my arms and bow before you.

Yours in wonder,
Steve D.