My fellow Americans: I spoke too soon. In yesterday’s Shit America Needs, I pre-maturely stated that Americans are able to imagine the Olsen Twins naked and not feel guilty about it. After receiving floods of e-mails from family members, ultra right wing “Full House” fans, and an assortment of e-douchebags who nitpick everything on the Internet, I realized my unfortunate mistake. However, for the edification of your humble narrator, and those more liberal-thinking “Full House” fans in our glorious country, America needs someone to decide, once and for all, when we can imagine our favorite celeb twins getting their full houses rocked - and not feel guilty about it.

Perhaps this day will not come anytime soon. If Google search results are any indication, we’re totally screwed - “Olsen Twins Side Boob,” believe it or not, despite all their recent scantily clad outfits, only comes up with five entries. Personally, I was hoping for something closer to hmmm… I don’t know… let’s say a billion. However, until the day that the Olsen twins’ nudity is no longer taboo, and the Google SERPs for their “side boob” crack at least double digits, we must try not to offend our fellow Americans. If, however, you do offend your fellow Americans, as I did in yesterday’s article, simply shrug your shoulders, smile an innocent smile, and squeak out Ashley/Mary Kate’s famous catchphrase: “Don’t have a cow, dude.” And here’s a further tip - when you squeak out the catchphrase, try not to imagine the twins milking the cow without their tops on. That’s just dirty.

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America loves our celebrities - even the crazy ones who shave their heads, endanger the lives of their children, and show their nether regions, on a fairly consistent basis, when getting out of cars. However, although we purport to value our celebrities as individuals, this is a far cry from the truth - we tend categorize them, primarily because the American brain can only handle so much complexity. (The current Democratic presidential contest, as a parallel, isn’t about Obama v. Clinton, but rather “a nice guy who likes hope” v. “a woman with experience and most likely, a vagina.”) Given this limitation, it is unfortunate that two of our country’s most influential celebrities, Bruce Springstein and Tony Danza, are categorized in such conflicting ways - resulting in widespread confusion across America. Moreover, in order to erase this confusion, and clarify the identities of these two fine celebrities, America needs Bruce Springstein and Tony Danza to finally decide who’s the “Boss.”

Since Springstein and Danza have both made tremendous impacts on America in their careers, it will not be easy for either of them to concede the title “Boss.” In fact, it will be pretty damn near impossible - more difficult than all those times Tony fought the urge to sleep with Angela because he knew it would dramatically complicate their relationship. Additionally, it is conceivable that diehard Springstein/Danza fans wouldn’t accept their respective idol’s concession, even if he was given a cool substitute title like “Chief,” “Sensei,” or “Tiger Heart.” However, both Springstein and Danza are well aware of the confusion their conflicting categorization has created, and America will be much better off when this confusion is eliminated.

Certainly, it would take time for many Americans to accept that Springstein or Danza is no longer the “Boss” - just like it took time to accept that Americans are allowed to imagine the Olsen twins naked and not feel guilty about it. But in the long run, America will be a less confused country, and Springstein and Danza will stop responding at the same time when people ask “Who is the Boss?” Trust me, that’s always uncomfortable.

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Americans are inherently risk takers: we rebelled against the mighty British empire to win our independence, we were the first country to walk on the moon, and in the past eight years, we’ve elected and re-elected a President who can’t even tie his own shoes – not that there’s anything wrong with velcro. These risks, of course, are not without consequences, but as we venture into the future, we must attempt to mitigate the risks (and in turn, consequences) whenever possible. Thus, for the sake of America, before we start pissing off fellow Americans on a mass scale, we need to someone to decide when it’s officially OK to start making Heath Ledger jokes.

Sure, many Americans, including some of our late night comedians, have already taken the risk - and their jokes have been met with mixed reactions. However, these jokes have yet to creep into the mainstream American repertoire, alongside jokes about other dead celebrities, such as John Candy, Chris Farley, and Tori Spelling (she’s dead, right?). Sooner or later, more Americans will indeed start cracking Heath Ledger jokes, but if the American public is not ready, then many Americans could get pissed off and hurt feelings/distress/strings of assassinations by Batman fans could ensue.

At the moment, many Americans, your humble narrator included, are bottling up hilarious Heath Ledger jokes. (For example, what do Jake Gyllenhaal’s cherry and a bottle of Paxil have in common? Answer: They both got popped by Heath Ledger.) However, until someone says it’s officially OK for us to start making Heath Ledger jokes, America will be deprived of highly relevant humor. Sure, it’s tragic that Heath Ledger died at such an early age. But isn’t more tragic, I ask, if Americans can’t make fun of him for it?

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In the past several years, ever since America started bombing the shit out of other countries and waving democracy around like a golden penis, we have lost a good deal of respect from countries around the world. Sure, many still hold us in high regard, but the tides are definitely changing. You know the fat kid in junior high who people watched pick his nose and then flick boogers onto classmates? Well, that’s basically America, except instead of boogers, we’re flicking shit that actually kills people. However, the answer to restoring America’s respect does not lie in more violence, nor diplomacy, nor even a quiet and gradual strategy of isolationism. Rather, we must figure out a way to communicate with the world on a deeper level, to shake countries at their very core and let them know that America means business. In other words, for the sake of America, we need Steven Seagal to raise his voice above a whisper.

Even though Steven Seagal has made fewer movies in recent years, his incomparable prowess as an actor has not waned a bit - and he’s still regarded as one of the world’s preeminent bad-asses. In fact, it is rumored that before presidential hopeful Mike Huckabee (R-AR) asked Chuck Norris to be his random 90s celebrity endorser, he had offered the gig to Steven Seagal, who allegedly “bitch-slapped” Huckabee for touching his pony-tail during the conversation. However, what’s truly amazing about Steven Seagal is that he’s been able to maintain such an extreme degree of bad-assness without ever using a voice that wasn’t suitable for a public library. Naturally, if Seagal chose to raise his voice above a whisper, the Michigan-born actor would not only command an unprecedented respect for himself, but for the country that made him into such a bad-ass in the first place, America. After all, if America produced a man so disgustingly worthy of respect, we’re obviously worthy of some respect, too.

Sure, we could wait a couple decades and hope that the world’s opinion of America will gradually shift back into place. We could even kiss ass to the right world leaders and give away hundreds of millions of dollars to the right causes, hoping to somehow speed up the process. However, why should we spend excessive time and/or money to restore our country’s respect when Steven Seagal can restore it with just one breath? Seagal will probably never win an Oscar in his lifetime, nor even some bullshit Nickelodean Kid’s Choice Award, but if he raises his voice above a whisper, believe me, I can almost guarantee he’s got a Medal of Honor in the bag.

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The majority of Americans familiar with Tom Cruise’s enthusiastic adoption of Scientology have already written him off as a nutjob. And not just a mid-level nutjob that’s par for the Hollywood course, but the type of nutjob that talks to himself in the mirror, refers to himself in the third person, and probably eats his own cult-flavored boogers. While none of these traits can be officially confirmed, we know that Cruise has spent a boat load of money in order to rise to the second most powerful position in the Church of Scientology - money that could have been spent on something vastly more beneficial to America, like the production of Top Gun II or a high-end Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes sex tape called “Dawson’s Crack.”

As his public image has tarnished, Cruise’s last few films have bombed both at the box office and with critics, including my usually amenable mother. Still, Cruise continues to proclaim his undying devotion to Scientology, leaving the media to poke fun at him and the average American to scratch his/her head (while poking fun at him, of course). But perhaps America is too quick to pass judgement. Perhaps Cruise can explain his descent into nutjobocity. Perhaps one day he will cut the shit, renounce Scientology, and explain, with that same “Scientology has saved my life” grin on his face, that he was just messing with us, that he’s actually a semi-normal person. And so, for the sake of America, before we make complete asses out of ourselves, someone needs to ask Tom Cruise, once and for all, “are you serious?”

Tom Cruise has played an integral role in American cinema for the past twenty five years or so, ever since he showed us his tighty-whities in Risky Business and inspired high schoolers across the country to start brothels while their parents went away on vacation. Since then, he’s given America a slew of successful movies, made approximately a googabillion dollars in profit, and married the talented, “she looks like my little sister but I’ll romp her anyway,” Katie Holmes. It seems like Cruise had everything going so well for him - so why would he decide to switch gears and go bonkers? Why would he join a “religion” that is so staunchly opposed by the general American public and donate/waste so much of his money? And why, oh why, would he ever think it’s OK to appear on the Oprah Winfrey show and jump on her finely upholstered sofa? I mean, that sofa was linen, Tom. Let’s get serious.

Sure, it seems a little far-fetched that Tom Cruise has been screwing with America for the past few years, only pretending to be a complete lunatic. But isn’t it also far-fetched that he would intentionally disregard his reputation, give away millions of dollars, and divert his attention from making films that become cultural phenomenons, all for the sake of a religion that believes in aliens? But then again, maybe Tom Cruise didn’t join Scientology and become a jackass because he wanted to. Maybe - just maybe - the aliens told him to do it. For the sake of America, before we have all the facts clear and laid out in front of us, I’d suggest we keep an open mind.

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Bill O’Reilly has one of the most watched news shows in America, but he’s also one of America’s most hated and divisive political commentators. Basically, Americans either worship the man and drink hot cocoa from their “O’Reilly Factor” mugs, or they get chills whenever they hear his voice and secretly plot to break into his house and shave his eyebrows while he’s sleeping. Regardless of your feelings about Bill O’Reilly, in order for America to move harmoniously into the future, America needs him to finally lose his virginity.

Anyone who has ever watched the “O’Reilly Factor” knows that O’Reilly is filled with passion about everything related to American politics and society. He enjoys going on rants, chastising people who reside in the public eye, and tearing down his guests with passive-aggressive and aggressive-aggressive tactics that make every viewer quickly decide whether they love him or hate him. But O’Reilly’s problem isn’t his passion. It’s not even his anger. It’s that he’s lived for over fifty years, been married for almost fifteen, and still has never seen the inside of a vagina.

America needs our public figures, like O’Reilly, to unite the general public in order to enable a more productive society. We need our titans of fair and balanced journalism to foster constructive rather than divisive conversation, to carry the political media torch so the rest of us can see. However, this cannot be accomplished in O’Reilly’s case until someone - who knows? perhaps his wife - bites the bullet and opens up her bed. Sure, O’Reilly may not be the most devilishly handsome man in the world, and perhaps he doesn’t even brush his teeth after sucking the blood out of small, left-wing children, but that doesn’t mean the rest of America should suffer.

I know what you’re thinking. How can I possibly know that Bill O’Reilly is a virgin? Do I work with him? Am I his friend and confidant? Am I sexual psychologist or something? No. No. And no. But just look at the guy, America. Seriously. The blueness from his balls has almost completely discolored his face.

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