In the last issue of this prestigious magazine, I wrote about the beautiful summers here in Minnesota and my wife's demonic death wish on the weeds in our backyard. Reflecting on this, I realize that most of the things that I blather about in this column are in some way connected to the ever-changing, sometimes psychotic weather in my fair state. Since Mysterical-E is a quarterly e-zine as opposed to a monthly, I've found a natural progression to identifying with the seasons in my musings. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing.

Those of you in other parts of the country, or other parts of the world for that matter ( Yeah right! There's a guy in Bangladesh right now saying “Goddam! This guy's funnier than a goat on a stick! ) might have a hard time relating. Nonetheless, I think I'm saying that if I get enough information out on Minnesota, you would better be able to make a decision as whether to live here or not. So if you get offered the job of Vice President in Charge of Looking Out of the Window, and the offer is to work in St. Paul, you may or may not want to set your feet over the border. Personally, I don't know if I could live anywhere else, but I'm used to this insanity, and I might go into culture shock if every once in awhile I don't hear a Lutheran Swede saying, “Ya! You betcha!”

By this point, you, o' patient reader, are probably saying, “Jesus Q.H. Christ in a basket! Will you get on with it!?” And so I shall.

Fall in Minnesota, my friends, is the best place to be and at the best time. The leaves are changing producing incredible colors, and the colder weather is killing off the blood sucking freaks we call mosquitoes. Canadian Geese, who can turn your backyard hill into a slip-n-slide of pure greenish goose poop, are finally flying back north to annoy the Canadians—the poor bastards--and television executives, in their infinite wisdom, unveil new shows, and new seasons of returning shows for our perusal.

My wife and I look forward to this segment of seasonal change with unabashed anticipation, because it's coming near hibernation time for the Great White North, and these shows may be the only thing that keeps us from committing Hara Kari to avoid shoveling copious amounts of snow that are sure to be on their way.

Our favorites are back: The Office, 30 Rock, CSI (The one set in Vegas—watching David Caruso makes me want to drink battery acid, and the herky-jerky camera technique used in the New York setting makes me nauseous), Fringe, American Dad, The Simpsons, House, Lie To Me, and a crapload of shows on the “other” channels, like SciFi, Discovery Channel, Comedy Central, etc. There are some new ones that might bear watching, as well, but I'll save my scathing reviews until after I've seen them.

Football starts in the fall as well, along with the demise of baseball. I use the word “demise” in a temporary fashion, because I'm more of a baseball fan than football, and it makes me sad to think that I won't be watching my beloved Twins playing any more games until next year. At this writing they are 2 1/2 games out in the Central and probably don't have a chance, but they are a scrappy lot and you just never know.

We have DIRECTV for our satellite service, and they shamelessly shuck their football packages boasting that you can watch every single game in HiDef, up to 14 games every Sunday. I'll do the math for you: Fourteen games at approximately 3 hours each is 42 hours of football! I don't know if there is a gauge to tell you when the amount of time you spend on a hobby turns into an obsession, but this might be getting you close. This doesn't include the Monday or Thursday games either. Oh well…I guess it's better than robbing banks as a pastime.

They use “celebrities” and famous athletes as spokesmen including Payton and Eli Manning, two of the best quarterbacks in the NFL, and that makes perfect sense to have football players promoting football. What I didn't understand was what the hell Donald Trump was doing promoting football. The last thing that's going to make me buy a football package is his smarmy mug. Yeah, we get it Donald. You're rich, we're poor. Can you leave us alone now?

Celebrities are often used in advertising, but did you really feel the urge to buy a Select Comfort© bed just because Lindsay Wagner (remember the Bionic Woman? ) is promoting it? Does the fact that Tiger Woods uses a certain shave cream mean I'm going to use it? Would I buy anything that Paris Hilton is pushing to the general public? It's depressing to think that any of these manipulators would work, but, then again, as I look around, I see that most women now seem to be wearing the same style sunglasses that Paris Hilton wears. Some guy in an advertising agency somewhere is laughing his ass off and checking with his car dealer to see if his new Lamborghini is in yet.

I think we should all raise our glasses in a toast to the guy that invented the DVR, so we can be spared this torture, or most of it, anyway, or it may not be the impending snow that makes me commit Hara Kari.

The real cold is coming soon, and temperatures will hover around zero for weeks at a time, so I'm going to enjoy this season as much as I can before I batten down the hatches, crawl into my den, and sleep until spring when I can start this madness all over again.

And that guy in Bangladesh? Drop me an e-mail and let me know how things are going. I just may be funnier that a goat on a stick, but it might not be until spring.