It's not that I haven't had anything to say; it's just that I haven't had any time to say it. I recently embarked on an exciting new project in the tweedy literary world of Madison Avenue i.e. ADVERTISING. This enterprise has become a great, fiery love for me and as such has consumed my every waking hour – even the waking hours traditionally spent with my other great love, wok cooking. (Yesterday I noticed, with great sorrow, that my bok choy had wilted from neglect. And my water chestnuts are tough around the edges, also suffering from the absence of flaming canola oil. And yes, what you just read was the world's greatest wok-cookery-as-sexual-performance-and-romantic-infidelity metaphor ever written. Jealous much, Amy Tan?)

The nature of my advertising assignment is secretive but, since it has become the whole of my life, I thought it would be nice to share some details assuming I have your complete confidence. There are reams of documents – the result of months worth of expensive market research to help understand the tricky demographic. They've even taken all of their findings and reduced them to the creation of a singular composite profile which perfectly exemplifies the character of the target audience with laser-precision accuracy. The agency has given this profile a name: Lester Briggs. He "lives" in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and divides his free time equally between "televised sporting events", "enjoying pre-packaged chips and mild salsa", and beating his three beautiful kids, "Kyle", "Katie", and "Katie II."

It's a pretty exciting opportunity for the advertiser, too – a well-known brand moving into a very new market category. I'm not supposed to say who it is or what we're selling but I kind of can't resist. Besides, I haven't signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement yet. So, between us, here are some of the headlines I've been cooking up for this virgin campaign:

• WITHOUT A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE^® BRAND SLAW CUP, LUNCH IS JUST ANOTHER REASON TO KILL
  
• YOU GOT TWO CHOICES: A SLAW CUP OR A HANDFUL OF DIRTY DICK. EITHER WAY, YOU'RE EATING SOMETHING TONIGHT, JAG-OFF
  
• I CAME HERE TO DO TWO THINGS: KICK ASS AND EAT A SLAW CUP. AND GUESS WHAT? I'M OUT OF ASS.
  
• BY THE STAFF OF POSEIDON, HERE BE SLAW CUP
  
• THAT'S THE SLAW TALKING [This tag line would be preceded by many different "in-brand-character" scenarios for which the slaw cup would blamed. For instance, a weekend hunter at a truckstop diner with his genitals stuck in the gas tank of someone else's automobile, filling the gas tank with his own cabbage-scented urine. Or – for a more sentimental moment – perhaps a father reuinting with his son, who is just returning from overseas. We would see them embrace and then the camera would swing around to capture the father's expression and, as we get in close, and he tells his son, "I love you," we can clearly see he has tears of watery mayonnaise running down each cheek.]
  
• IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR SOLDIER OF FORTUNE^® BRAND SLAW CUP, THAT'S JUST MORE FOR THEM [With an image of two gay communists frenching each other.]
  
• "HELL, I'D EAT A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE^® BRAND SLAW CUP DIRECTLY FROM OSAMA BIN LADEN'S FORESKIN POUCH" [i've been assured this idea is "very campaign-able" and i've already cooked up some alternate headlines: ...DIRECTLY FROM HITLER'S CHEST CAVITY; ...DIRECTLY FROM WENDY CARLOS' BARREN VAGINA-WASTELAND; ...DIRECTLY FROM A NIGERIAN; ...DIRECTLY FROM A THREE-WEEK OLD VIET CONG TIGER CAGE; ...DIRECTLY FROM A NEW YORK CITY WET SPOT, etc.]
  
• SOLDIER OF FORTUNE^® BRAND SLAW CUPS: AMERICA TIMES THREE [The guys at our ad agency wanted us to make this "America Times Seven" and Soldier of Fortune loved it, but their legal department came back and said America Times Seven might be "too over-promisory" and made us tame it a bit. This kind of thing happens in advertising all the time.]