Also, Ellen has threatened to cry again

I know that yesterday I neglected to comment in detail on the controversy over Ellen's dog, enamored as I was with the news of the new Hardee's Country Breakfast Burrito. And while I still think that the latter is easily the most important Breakfast Burrito story so far this year, I can no longer remain silent on the Ellen-dog issue.

You have probably heard that the Mutts and Moms dog adoption agency (motto: "Just try to get one of our dogs") is now receiving death threats after refusing to return the dog, Iggy, to Ellen's hairdresser. To which I respond: What did they expect, messing with Ellen fans? These are violent, desperate individuals. If "Ellen" had been on in 1969, these are the people they would have recruited to do security at Altamont.

We can only hope this ends peacefully, and not with Ellen's studio audience marching on Mutts and Moms with torches and pitchforks, like they do every Friday afternoon at Anne Heche's house.

This is what God had in mind when he invented the burrito

Yes, I know there are important things happening in the world today, such as the crisis over Ellen DeGeneres' dog, in which the dog was removed from the family of Ellen's hairdresser because it is a lesbian.

But how can we dwell on such things when today also happens to be the day that Hardee's unveiled its 920-calorie, 60-grams-of-fat Country Breakfast Burrito? (It of the two egg omelets filled with bacon, sausage, diced ham, cheddar cheese, hash browns and sausage gravy, all wrapped inside a flour tortilla. No, it's not deep fried -- yet.)

Hardee's is just tickled with itself at having come up with this idea, noting that "It makes this big country breakfast portable." This comes in especially handy for farmers who'd like to eat their two egg omelets filled with bacon, sausage, diced ham, cheddar cheese, hash browns and sausage gravy while driving their tractor, so they can get all their plowing done and still have time for their heart attack.

But leave it to the namby-pambys at the Center for Science in the Public Interest to rain on Hardee's sausage and diced ham-filled parade, calling fast-food items like the burrito "food porn." Which is absolutely, definitely a movie I don't want to see.

You know, I'm starting to think she says these things just for the shock value

This time Ann Coulter has gone too far.

Key quote:

"What's the deal with all these orphans?" she asked. "Do these dirty little losers think they actually deserve parents?"

Somehow, Bill O'Reilly will find this anti-American

So Springsteen invites members of Arcade Fire up on stage with him in Ottawa -- and then sings one of their songs. In a related story, the guy from the Hold Steady's head exploded from jealousy.

Here's the fan video:

Bruce Stringsteen and Arcade Fire - Keep the car running

This week's column: Suing my way to a better life

Looking at my bank statement last month, I couldn’t help but wonder why there wasn’t more money in there. At first I thought it might have something to do with my lack of ability at anything particularly lucrative, or my debilitating shortage of ambition. But then I realized it’s probably due to the fact that I’ve never sued anybody. What was I thinking?

Why I’ve been so determined to navigate life’s challenges in a non-litigious fashion is beyond me (probably a poor upbringing), but I’ve decided that from now on, my soon-to-be-procured lawyer will be No. 1 on the speed dial I have yet to figure out how to program. That way I too can be like the Croatian woman who, according to Ananova.com, is suing her 10-year-old son’s teachers for giving him bad grades. If this works out I suggest that she follow up by suing Croatia, just for existing.

Of course, the teachers have a slick legal defense, namely that they gave the boy bad marks because he is a poor student. Now, we know an American jury would see right through that flimsy excuse, but we can only hope that the Croatian justice system is as perceptive. On the plus side, I’m guessing that in Croatia the teachers are much more likely to be given a punishment involving wall shackles.

For the rest of this week's AT LARGE by Peter Chianca, click here.

My apologies ...

It just occurred to me that I forgot to wish everybody a happy Indigenous Peoples Genocide Festival.

We're living in a material world, and she is a material ... something

Thank you, Live Nation! Thanks to your $120 million deal with Madonna, we've pretty much been assured that we're going to look up in 20 years and see a wrinkly old lady dancing around in a cone bra.

Please, everyone, close your eyes and pray that she reinvents herself as a folk singer. She can just sit on a stool for that.

But if the mistress turns out to be Larry Craig, all bets are off

Yes, we all know that the last time I chose not to believe something reported by the National Enquirer, they made me look like an idiot. But as I've said time and time again: That is not hard to do.

So I am choosing again NOT to believe their latest report, that John Edwards, the Southern Baptist with a wife battling cancer, had an affair on the campaign trail. Not that the Enquirer doesn't have a reliable source: an unnamed woman who forwarded e-mails from the alleged mistress, who refused to comment about the story. You'd have to be a technical genius to fake an e-mail from someone nobody ever heard of.

The story came to light when Ann Coulter mentioned it on MSNBC, just before rubbing her chalk-white bony hands together and eating a live weevil. But until I hear it from someone reliable, like the guy who sold his soul to the devil to run TMZ.com, I'm going to continue to believe that John Edwards cares only about the poor and the disappearing middle class, as opposed to harlotty campaign strumpets.

Of course, I missed the beginning -- it took me 20 minutes to find MSNBC

Quick thoughts on the Republican presidential candidate debate:

• GOP savior Fred Thompson turns out to be about as charismatic as your old high school social studies teacher who couldn't get enough of hearing himself talk about feudalism.
• Mitt Romney is shocked and appalled. About what? Whatever you want him to be shocked and appalled about.
• Within minutes of Rudy Giuliani's election as president, Tehran will be a smoking crater.
• Ron Paul -- he's a Democrat, right?
• I may have dreamed this, but I would swear Mike Huckabee said he plans to institute a pimp tax.
  

Meanwhile, Billy Ray Cyrus tickets continue to sell for 1/3 of face value

OK, so let me get this straight: Ever since Al Gore invented the Internet, I've been watching Springsteen shows sell out in eight minutes (often to my own person exclusion) only to see tickets pop up online minutes later for the price of a used Volvo. But no matter how much Eddie Vedder and I complained, law enforcement refused to do anything about it, claiming they were too busy prosecuting, you know, crimes.

But a few kids miss out on Hannah Montana tickets, and suddenly, the entire justice system is up in arms. Attorneys general in Connecticut, Missouri and Arkansas are launching investigations, and scalpers beware: At least one of those AGs -- Dustin McDaniel of Arkansas -- has a daughter who watches the Disney Channel. And you know what they say on the street: Keep Hannah Montana tickets away from an AG's daughter, go to jail. Or something like that.

This week's column: Scaring up a costume drama

Halloween costumes just aren’t what they used to be. I think I first realized this when I was telling my 6- and 8-year-old kids Tim and Jackie about my go-to childhood get-up, the venerable “Hobo.” “What the heck’s a hobo?” they asked simultaneously, with that dubious look they get whenever I try to explain something from my long-gone childhood, like the LP or broadcast television.

“Well, it’s sort of …” I began eruditely. “I guess you could say it’s a person …” It was there, in mid-sentence, that I realized I was about to explain to my children about the times I went trick-or-treating dressed as a homeless person. Never mind that it was back when vagabonds were romantic and endearing, like chain smokers: These days, that’s a tough sell.

Of course, the downtrodden are no longer considered acceptable costume fodder. But you can (and, most likely, you will) get your kids basically anything else these days, from princess to pop star to Power Ranger, all with the most sophisticated accoutrements.

For the rest of this week's AT LARGE by Peter Chianca, click here.

Bruuuuuuuuce

OK, I've been listening to "Magic" for two days now, and I have to agree with EW: Bruce Springsteen is back in the masterpiece business. Yes, yes, I know, I'm the guy who loves his mumbly solo acoustic albums, who downloaded his duets with Sam Moore and Jerry Lee Lewis, who did little giddy backflips over his Pete Seeger covers. But I am somewhat discerning: I didn't start liking "Human Touch" until about 2002. (What? "Soul Driver" grows on you.)

But what I'm really looking forward to is the live show, which hits Boston Nov. 18-19. Apparently he's planning some interesting tour debuts.

We know you need to justify all the grant money, but come on

Further proof that paleontologists are just making things up as they go: Now they've gone and "discovered" a giant duck-billed dinosaur with more than 800 teeth. "It really is like the Arnold Schwarzenegger of dinosaurs — it's all pumped up," ad-libbed Scott Sampson, curator of the Utah Museum of Natural History, before trotting off to high-five his paleontologist buddies and come up with more dinosaurs out of thin air. (Suggestion: How about one with giant flippers and the head of Fred Thompson? Now that I'd like to see.)

I think Helio Castroneves was one of the Three Tenors

I'll admit it: I have no idea who three quarters of the people on "Dancing with the Stars" are this season. Yes, I'm aware of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, and Marie Osmond (who used to be a little bit country, but is now a whole lotta annoying), and of course Wayne Newton, whose signed copy of "Mr. Las Vegas" I most assuredly do not have under my mattress. I don't care what you've heard.

But I wouldn't know the rest of these people if I paso dobled over them. So does that make me hopelessly out of touch, or is it possible that ... they're not actually stars? Naaaaah.

Meanwhile, this won't be a dilemma next season, which is already slated to include some real stars.

This week's column:Setzer's in a classical by himself

Sometimes I find myself wondering, what is it about me that I can’t truly appreciate classical music? Is it a gene thing? Did Mozart make a rude gesture at me during a past life? As a small child, was I frightened by an oboe? It’s a mystery.

Regardless, I can’t seem to listen to it for more than a few minutes at a time without my mind wandering and my vision starting to glaze over — sort of like when I try to listen to BBC Radio on NPR, which on more than one occasion has caused me to almost drive into a ditch. Not that I don’t think classical has its time and place, such as during that scene in “Die Hard” when they open the giant safe. I’m not a complete philistine.

So I admit my curiosity was piqued when I heard that the Brian Setzer Orchestra would be releasing an album made up entirely of big-band swing versions of famous classical compositions. I mean, just the concept alone raises a lot of questions, such as: If you listen to it closely enough, will you be able to hear Leonard Bernstein angrily smacking on the top of the coffin with his baton?

For the rest of this week's AT LARGE by Peter Chianca, click here.

Rant of the week

Question: How is "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" still at the top of the bestseller list? Could there possibly be that many people just getting around to buying it now? ("Hmmm, this Harry Something-or-other book looks interesting ... Maybe I'll give this a shot!")

People, this has got to stop. There are other books out there. Case in point.

OK, keep buying Harry.

Is there anybody ALIVE out there?

OK, I can stop sweating now: I got behind-the-stage seats for Springsteen at the Garden in Boston. Behind-the-stage is fine with me -- it puts me in perfect position to yell out a warning in case it looks like Max is going to fall off his drum kit.

Still, the show sold out in what seemed like about eight minutes, with floor seats (or floor tickets, I should say, since Bruce makes all the people on the floor stand for the whole show, even though we're all old and have bad knees) going faster than you can say "convenience charges." Given all that, I find it particularly galling that Ticketmaster includes this advisory on the event page:

There is a FOUR (4) ticket limit during the first 3 hours of onsale; after the first 3 hours, there is an EIGHT (8) ticket limit per person.

The irony of course being that by the time three hours have passed, the tickets have long since sold out and the Ticketmaster executives have gone home to use the indoor pool they bought with all the "building maintenance" fees. This is clearly Ticketmaster's idea of humor, along with those stupid words they make you type in for "security," like "beshine."

This week's column:Stuff I learned this summer

Every year as the official start of autumn approaches, I like to take stock of the summer gone by. In years past, I’ve found that there are often valuable lessons to take away — things like, whether you order a “kiddie,” a “small” or a “large,” you will still be handed a soft-serve cone bigger than your head.

With that in mind, here’s what I learned this summer:

1.) The Disney trip never really ends. My family’s summer started with a trip to Walt Disney World, and almost three months later we’re still talking about it. On the one hand this is a good thing: It helps justify the inordinate amount of money you spent there on things with Goofy’s picture on them, even though they begin to taunt you the minute you take them out of your suitcase. (“I cost 80 dollars! Hahahahaha!!”)

On the other hand, it’s also fueled incessant conversation among my children about when the next Disney trip will be. They’re thinking next year, whereas I have it narrowed down to either when I’m a grandparent, or when I’m a time-traveling astronaut exploring its partially preserved ruins.

For the rest of this week's AT LARGE by Peter Chianca, click here.

That'll do pig ... That'll do

OJ, OJ, OJ ... Is there nothing else going on in the world? It's depressing ... If Larry King hadn't had to talk about this for the last three nights, he could have easily squeezed in at least one visit from Don Rickles.

Meanwhile, I vote for a complete OJ boycott in lieu of more important news stories. For instance, stories involving Chinese guys painting pigs' butts -- with photos!

Follow the link for details, but here's the key quote: "'The painted pigs, when they move around in a limited space, form many unexpected images,' a spokesman told the China News Network." I'm sure PeTA will love that; in fact, I hear Alicia Silverstone is on her way to China naked even as we speak.

No, the chicken -- you're supposed to fry the chicken!

OK, fess up: Is this an actual news story, or a Wendy's commercial?