Because of myriad unforeseen happenstances during the last few weeks, it will be a potpourri of burning issues and controversies only this reporter is qualified to address.

No, I'm not talking about a friend who converted her vehicle into a Winter Carnival float entry by inadvertently turning into the parade line from Heath Street while the procession was passing by on Pioneer Avenue (rumor has it that she actually won something but has been to mortified to claim her prize).

So, rather than a pointed essay on why the old chip site out on the Spit should be converted into a new chip site featuring a casino instead of a conveyor belt, subsequently stirring the community into another passionate debate, I've decided to diversify and not be so divisive during this particular discourse.

Let's begin

I like to think that we all grow by learning from our miscues, and my last suggestion for a 100,000-square-foot complex featuring a subterranean Fred Meyer covered by a mini National Park and an exotic petting zoo filled with cuddly stuffed replicas of endangered animals was not the cure-all that I thought it would be. Some of you were offended that I forgot to include a bottled-water spawning stream and a year-round refuge for moderately disoriented waterfowl. Others bemoaned the fact that I didn't propose setting aside a militia training site above the sports department. I just can't win.

Then there was the issue of my buddy Turk getting fired up over what he calls "the town's juvie Puppy Pack problem," and how "maybe they need a bit of special, Skinnerian negative reinforcement training so they'll quit whining and tearing up &%#* like petulant pooches without an active brain cell between them."

He's ready to organize a community patrol, "just ta keep an eyeball on the mutts and let the cops know if they lift their legs where they'll leave a stain on the ville." I haven't seen the Turkman this disgusted since Wild Willie showed up at his birthday party after spending six hours in the summer sun sifting through the local landfill looking for a gift for the big guy. Stay tuned.

Oh, yeah, lest I forget, how about this recent bizarre communiquE from cyber space?

"Mr. Nick, We thought that you might be interested in seeing the following note that we found pinned to our couch.

L. & N. Johnstone, Albuquerque, New Mexico

Instructions for bathing the cat:

1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add the required amount of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.

2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.

3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.

4. The cat will self-agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.

5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash" and "rinse."

6. Have someone open the door to the outside. Be sure that there are no people between the toilet and the outside door.

7. Stand behind the toilet as far back as you can, and quickly lift both lids.

8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, and run outside where he will dry himself off.

9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean!

Always here to give you the best of tested advice in difficult times...

Sincerely, Your Dog"

The Johnstones made no other comments. Now, how do I respond to that? I fully realize that there are people skulking around out there who wouldn't give a second thought to receiving a note from their dog. Admittedly, they probably blend all of their medications in a cement mixer and have meaningful discussions with their underwear, but why pick on me?

Note: All cat personages please direct your rebuttal tirades concerning the cat commode wash-a-teria proposition to the aforementioned N.M. dwellers and their suspiciously literate cur. Keep me out of this discussion.

Hopefully, during the next month, I will have fewer distractions but I seriously doubt it. There's a nasty rumor going around the home office that, because of budgetary concerns, they are looking at outsourcing this column to some ghost commentator in Nepal. I'm really not very worried about that, but I'm keeping my eye on the mutt in New Mexico. It has a wicked sense of humor and works for Milk Bone treats. Although I'm still cheaper, it probably has a better agent.

Nick can be reached at wufferdawg@hotmail.com