What is it with evil guys and those white cats? When I become an Evil Madman, am I required to send away for a snow-white Persian and a studded diamond collar? Will my black-on-black Evil Madman double-breasted suits be covered in white hair? And if so, do I want that? I mean, is the white cat a requirement for your Evil Madman license, or is it stress reduction necessary for the busy Evil Genius on the Go?

The evil guys and white cats question came up in a conversation with e-friend Lee Gorton, who was inquiring about a scene in the movie Spice World. In the movie, Meatloaf and Evil Guy Roger Moore chase each other. Did this meet the requirements for the Meatloaf Rule? We had been discussing Meatloaf rule exemptions, in that Young Mr. Loaf does not satisfy the rule's specifics. (Tim Curry gets chased by Meatloaf in Rocky Horror, and it can be argued that Curry still has an OK career.)

"I challenge anyone," I e-mailed back, "to establish that Roger Moore's career isn't over."

We've all consumed "processed cheese food" before, I'm willing to bet. Processed cheese food represents a concept in marketing that I believe should be carried into other areas of daily life. It's absolutely correct to say that these individually-wrapped, cheese-flavored slices of some gelatinous substance that is almost, but not quite cheese, cannot then accurately be marketed as "cheese." Thus, it is "processed cheese food." Vaguely cheese-like substance. A reasonable facsimile of the product after which it is patterned.

I bought a pad of note paper squares the other day. This seemed like a simple enough idea. We were running out of note paper squares, so I bought a package labeled "note paper squares" believing it to be a suitable replacement.

What I received were square slips of 1-micron-thin "paper," suitable only for flimsy bookmarks or wiping the noses of delicate, cherubic infants. My wife examined the squares the other day and accurately assessed their value:

"This isn't paper," she said. "These should be called 'pressed wood-pulp fiber product.'"

Searching for a pen whose tip was soft enough and thick enough to avoid piercing, at the molecular level, an individual scrap of pressed wood fiber product, I couldn't help but agree.

I watched a VH1 movie the other day called Strange Frequency. It was a collection of half-hour episodes, all of which were styled after The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits, but with a focus on music. I particularly enjoyed one in which fans of rock and heavy metal (who have behaved poorly in life) go to Disco Hell, where they must boogie-oogie-oogie for eternity. Watch your steps, metal fans -- it doesn't seem to take much to go there.

"How many times did you take the Lord's name in vain?" Satan asks one condemned metal head.

"That's a weak-ass rule," he retorts bitterly.