It's that time of year again for the first time. Get ready for the first ever, never to be repeated, Annual Official Neopoleon Battlestar Galactica FRACK-O-RAMA.

You read it right - this is the official NBGF. There are tons of imitators elsewhere on the web, but the only Official Neopoleon Battlestar Galactica FRACK-O-RAMA with the Official Neopoleon Battlestar Galactica FRACK-O-RAMA Seal of Approval is this one right here, toots. Read 'em and weep. The plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies room.

Many have asked me about my position on the unofficial FRACK-O-RAMAs out there, and all I can say is this: It makes me sick. Like, barfy sick. Like, I-got-a-flu-shot-this-year-but-I-still-got-the-flu-so-what's-the-frackin'-point sick. Like, I-got-the-hantavirus-by-inhaling-powdered-mouse-urine-and-my-lungs-are-all-gurgley-now sick.

Neopoleon investors, rest assured - ain't nobody gon' capitalize on my FRACK-O-RAMA that capitalizes on a popular TV show, and which does so without permission from the studio, the distributor, the cast, the director, the producers, or the "best boy," whatever the frack that is.

But hold your horses, girls and boys and a confusing indeterminate third gender that shall arise amid the wreckage of a post nuclear war zone 'Merica. I haven't even told you yet what an Official Neopoleon Battlestar Galactica FRACK-O-RAMA is.

AND I'M NOT GOING TO! HA HA! FRACK YOU IN THE JELLO PUDDING POPS, COWBOY!

(OK... it involves comics, but that's all's I'm the frack saying.)

Tomorrow's the day when you'll find out. I should warn you, though, that if you've never watched the new Battlestar Galactica, then not only are you a FRACKIN' PAIR OF SENTIENT UNDERGARMENTS (think about it), but you won't get a single fracking joke. For example, you're probably wondering why I'm all "frack this" and "frack that." Either you know or you don't. Either you're a sneetch with a star on its belly or you aren't. A quick way to tell if you've watched BSG is to ax you this question: Do hot robot chicks with out of control hormones turn you on the way they do me? If you answered "yes" to this, then congratulations - not only are you a bona fide dork, but you could be arrested anywhere in the developed world for your freaky perversions. Fortunately for the future of the human race, you won't be able to exercise your weirdness until superintelligent hot blonde sexbots are created, which from what I've heard is at least three years out. To be developed by the same team at Sony that did that robot dog thing that was a colossal failure. Also, you've watched BSG.

Regarding the FRACK-O-RAMA, I know what you're thinking right now: Why now, brown cow? I also know what you're thinking in response: Rory, you idiot, it's "How now, brown cow!" But do you know what I'm thinking right now? That's right: FRACK YOU! YEAH! ALL RIGHT! WOO! DIDN'T SEE THAT ONE COMIN'! OH, FRACKIN-A! FRACKILICIOUS!

Whatever the question is ("Why is the sky blue?" "How much longer until we get there?" "Are you really on the pill?"), the answer is:

I need the money.

Yeah, that's right. I'm doing this for the dough. Money's still flowing in from Microsoft, but I got a call from my accountant the other day, and he was all, "You went out for sushi six-hundred times last month," and I was all, "I know. And if I had to do it all over again, I'd have gone SEVEN-HUNDRED TIMES! OH, YEAH! FRACK YOU, YOU FRACKIN' FRACKITTY FRACK!" Then he resigned.

The other reason I need the money involves something I hoped none of you would ever find out about. It's my dark little secret, if you know what I mean.

Yes: I'm pregnant. That's why I went for sushi so many times last month, and it's also why I CAN'T STOP YELLING!

I don't have anyone with whom to raise my child. When the baby comes, I shall be a single mother. It won't just be a financial difficulty, though - being a single male mother carries a certain stigma in this country. I get a lot of older people staring at me. In their day, I suppose they just slew any pregnant males they found.

Well, not today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that. But maybe the day after that last day. If not that day, then it's getting kind of far out into the future, and I'll have to check my calendar. I have a Lamaze class in a couple weeks, and I'd like it if I didn't have to cancel it because you wanted to express your societal prejudice in my face with your fist.

I haven't figured out yet how I'm going to collect your money. One thing you can try is to stuff a few hundred bucks in your CD/DVD drive and then try to send the money to me as an email attachment. If that doesn't work, then get a new computer; yours is broken. You could also try calling tech support, but if you're all, "I stuffed two-thousand dollars into my DVD drive, and it didn't do anything," then they'll tell you to send your computer in SO'S THEY CAN STEAL ALL YOUR MONEY WHICH IS SUPPOSED TO BE MY MONEY SO I FORBID YOU FROM CALLING THE TECHNICAL SUPPORT. AS LONG AS YOU DON'T GET THAT MONEY TO ME, ALL'S YOU'RE DOING IS HURTING MY BABY.

These are details we can work out later.

For now, onward.

Progress moves in two directions: forward and backward. I say we shift this party into neutral.