Poor Tom Cruise is so stressed about divorce he called John Travolta for a masseur recommendation.

LeBron wins a title, college presidents OK a football playoff system, Supreme Court upholds Obamacare. Rivers and seas boiling, 40 years of darkness, earthquakes, volcanoes, the dead rising from the grave. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria!

I had no idea it took a formal vote to be in contempt of Congress. Is there an online application I need to fill out or what?

Trying to figure out what it all means today, I think I speak for all Americans when I say: God, I miss Schoolhouse Rock. #SCOTUS

I'm not a constitutional law expert. I just play one on social media. #SCOTUS

Bloody but unbowed, Jon Bruning calls news conference to announce he'll run against John Roberts in 2014.

"Noted actor delights prez w/ courtesy call at Ford's Theater box." #InWithaBang – CNN tweet, April 14, 1865

The dissent was reasonable enough at first but got a little unhinged toward the end, where Scalia hand-wrote, in red pen, "you know what else is unconstitutional? YOUR MOM!"

I, for one, welcome our new death-panel overlords.

I demand to see John Roberts' birth certificate.

Justice Byron “Whizzer” White’s nickname, first bestowed because of his football prowess, was reinforced later as it was he who traditionally marked the justices’ pee corner in deliberation chambers for particularly lengthy discussions. #AmazingifTrueSCOTUStrivia

I can think of no higher praise for Nora Ephron’s movies than to say her best ones passed the Guy Test: They were no-vom rom coms. Oh, and how shall I put this delicately? Well, let's just say any of us would have been thrilled to have Meg Ryan fake it for us. Don't get me wrong -- the movies were no “Die Hard,” but still ...

Of course, you all DO realize the Mayans prophesied a college football playoff system and a Lebron James title as two of the three great tectonic cataclysms leading up to The End in December 2012. As for the third prophesy, well, we appear safe, although what's this? Sweet Jesus, the Cubs are on a two-game winning streak, so hold on, folks.

Justice Scalia is still struggling to get SCOTUS health-care ruling into tweet form because he insists on including hashtag #I'mrightagainasusualasshats

Supreme Court decision on health care delayed as Roberts, determined to modernize the court, has ordered Scalia to write the ruling in the form of a single 140-character tweet. It's gonna be tough -- Scalia has too many LOLs and WTFs in there now.

Typical Monday morning. Killed one bird with, like, seven stones. Also had to stomp on it, hold it under water, stab it a dozen times and run it through a wood chipper. And now that little feathered bastard appears to be comin’ back for more.

If “Criminal Minds” has taught us nothing else, it’s that at least 75% of the men in the saw department at Lowe’s at any one time are planning a dismemberment murder.

When Tourette's sufferers get together, it's nothing but tic talk, tic talk, tic talk.

"It’s the journey, not the destination." -- cross-stitch sign hanging in the cubicle of your colleague who never seems to get a damn thing done.

Big deal. When's the bum finally gonna win a second ring? #LeBron

I don't want to be a jerk about it, but if you can't tell me how much rain you got last night, I have nothing more to say to you today. (Three-quarters of an inch, by the way.)

I understand women about like I do math – enough to get by OK most of the time, but every now and then the more figuring I try to do, the deeper trouble I get into.

I thought I was clinically dead there myself for a couple of hours this morning, but it turns out I was just in an office meeting.

This warning just in from the CDC: Men, don't down your Viagra with a 5-Hour Energy Shot, or you could end up with one hour's less erection than energy.

OK, fine, speak softly and carry a big stick if you like, but every now and again whup someone upside the head with it, or else you're just that weird, quiet dude lugging a dumb stick around.

I guess I'm just a Beatles-half-alive kinda guy. (Happy 70th, Sir Paul.)

I am celebrating 29 years of happily wedded bliss today, my wife about half that. Happy Anniversary, Shelley Moser!

All my children's fathers

Each of my four children has a different father.

The first, a boy, got By the Book Dad, the books being "What to Expect the First Year" and "What to Expect the Second Year," Dr. Spock having gone out of fashion by then. No milestone was anticipated or marked without obsessively consulting these chronological bibles of child-rearing. When our son lifted his head before the book said he should, we wondered how soon MIT accepted early admissions. When he couldn't manage to get a spoon to his mouth by the month specified, we agonized over whether we should institutionalize him immediately or risk him somehow getting his head stuck in an electrical outlet.

Our second child, another son born two years later, got Hey, Maybe This Isn't Rocket Surgery After All Dad. We sometimes went days without consulting the books. We trusted our instincts more, having noticed by then that even the smallest of humans are more resilient and forgiving of their parents' inadequacies than we thought. He certainly got less of our attention but thrived despite it, or maybe because of it. Plus, he probably got to eat more unidentified objects off the floor.

Our third child was our first daughter, which made everything new again. I mean, stop-the-freaking-presses-new. Let's call her father Back Off, We Got Us a Girl Here Dad.

Our fourth and last child, born nine years after our first (on Father's Day, by the way, 16 years ago Saturday), was another daughter. She got Kinda Exhausted Been There Done That Dad.

A word about daughters: I told myself before having one that I would treat them no differently than I treated my sons, for I was a modern man. But this is silly. Of course my daughters have me wrapped around their fingers, and they know it. They take advantage of it, as they should because you work with what life gives you, but they're not excessively manipulative about it.

So, yes, I've been "easier" on my daughters than I was on my sons. My sons likely noticed and perhaps they carry a grudge over it, but I do not apologize. The only thing I can say to my sons is I hope they have daughters one day so they will understand.  

Now quit whining, boys, your sister needs something.

I don't know which of my children's fathers was the best one. No doubt the "perfect father" would somehow balance the awe and excitement of first-time dad with the experience and calm of the veteran. But it doesn't work that way. So, though each of my children got a different father, I think -- or at least hope -- each got the one they needed. If not, it'll have to be sorted out in therapy one day. 

In any case, although I've raised four children -- yes, with mom's help, but sorry, this ain't about her, not today -- I realized a long time ago something else goes on, too:

Kids, not books, teach men how to be dads. Each of mine taught me different lessons, or in some cases different nuances or spins to the same lessons. Many of the lessons are hard-earned, some so agonizing you're not sure you or your child will survive them. I can look back on many of the hardest lessons and laugh now. I look back on some -- thankfully, only a few -- and still don't laugh, and may never laugh. And that's OK, too. 

Thankfully, children are patient, forgiving teachers who grade on a generous curve and who also are tough as nails.

Although three of my kids are grown and the fourth thinks she is, I know they're not done teaching me. Not by a long shot.

I am, frankly, in awe of all of them.

So, all of my kids' fathers feel pretty blessed today. I believe they shall celebrate with a nap. Maybe four of them.

For many fathers, the first sign their baby son is growing from a helpless creature who is driven only by his most basic needs into a thinking human capable of reason and forethought -- and, yes, regrettably, perhaps even malice -- is when, the moment the diaper comes off, he nails dad in the face with a stream of pee, looks him straight in the eye and giggles.

No, I do not know where my children are right now -- and with any luck they don't know where I am either. Sssh. #fathersday

Yes, dads, these kids today don't know what real music is, but learn some of theirs anyway, so you can bond with them and also humiliate them by singing along.

Children should be seen and not heard. Or smelled either, preferably. #Dads

So how is it the old man can suffer from shy bladder but be such an outgoing farter? #Dads

My powers as a grammar jerk are so great, I can tell when you use the wrong your/you're when you speak, and I judge you harshly for it.

Good news, guys: I have found the Fountain of Youth. Bad news: It's the hearing-aid clinic, where the attractive 20-something female audiologist calls a 50-year-old man a "young patient."

Contrary to what you may have heard, fatherhood isn’t quite an emotional rollercoaster. A log flume ride seems like a better metaphor in that you’re definitely gonna get wet. Oh, and throw in the teacups, as there’s a whole lotta spinning in circles to no particular effect other than nausea and dizziness. And that ride where you stand against the wall and it spins ever faster and then the floor falls away from under your feet; that’s in there, too. A funhouse, also, natch. And an old-fashioned freak show. Yeah, basically, fatherhood is just one big damn amusement park. Always keep a barf bag handy. #Dads

You're probably not a true parent until one of your kids has screamed "I hate you," and you, however briefly, thought "right back atcha, kid." #Dads

Henry Hill heads into the witness-protection afterlife program, where his assumed identity will be Abe Vigoda.

As a crime-prevention measure, the FBI announces nationwide dragnet to round up all quiet, nice-seeming neighbors who keep to themselves.

If you think you're just playing possum but there are tire tracks across your back and your innards are smeared all over the pavement, I have some bad news for you.

How come we're inundated with “your mom” jokes, but no one ever drops a scathing “so’s your old man” reference anymore? #dads

I’m not saying that if I could go back in history, I’d kill Carly Rae Jepsen. That’s just mean. I’m saying if I could go back in history, I’d somehow prevent the invention of recorded music and maybe, just to be safe, engineer some sort of injury to her vocal cords.

Some days I still can't decide whether I want children. #Dads

Children should be seen and not heard. Or smelled either, preferably. #Dads

Of course Reagan couldn't win the Republican nomination now. Not even today's crazy GOP would nominate a dead guy without assurances he'd name an anti-Roe justice to the Supreme Court.

The Obama official in charge of business and industry was involved in two hit-and-run accidents over the weekend. You folks at home make up your own metaphor for the administration's economic record.

Starting new holistic diet this week. Nothing but doughnuts.

Yes, my son can beat up your son, but more to the point, so can my daughter. So remind that little creep: No funny stuff. #Dads

At the lanes last night, playin' some 10 pins while stuffing my face with banana cream, fourth time this week. Ugh. Time to admit it – I have pie bowler disorder

The science of summer: The shallow end of the pool and the kiddie pool are warmer because the sun beating on the smaller water volume heats it more quickly. Yes, that must be it.

I don't want to be a statistic, but if I have to, I think I'd choose 17%.

No children were harmed in the making of this father -- at least not beyond what thousands of dollars and decades in therapy can fix. #Dads

Breaking news: I just knocked a glass pitcher onto the floor.

I believe part of a father's job is tough love, to steel his children for the difficulties and disappointments life has in store for them. So, yes, when our dog got too old and ill and I sent him to a beautiful farm to run around joyfully and live out his life in happiness and comfort, I told my kids I'd had him put to sleep. #Dads

So, Bob Kerrey says he "barely want(s) to be" a senator again but he's "willing to do it" to save the country from, well, a Senate without Bob Kerrey in it, I guess. That didn't take long, did it? Welcome back, Cosmic Bob. The place hasn't been the same without you.

Someone hacked my eHarmony account and screwed with my profile and now I'm getting inundated. Disgusting how many pervs walking free out there who are into fast walks on the beach. Ugh.

Geez, what a disaster. Someone stole my LinkedIn password. Next thing I know, I've been hacked into a new job working for the Democratic Party in Wisconsin.

BREAKING: NASA reports the egos of Donald Trump and Bill Clinton somehow will come between Earth and the sun today. Forty-eight hours of complete darkness expected.

In a surprising and heartwarming act of bipartisanship and cooperation, Romney and Obama agree to split the cost and send Donald Trump and Bill Clinton on joint campaign trips. First stop, Nome, Alaska. Drones to follow.

Given that men are from Mars and women from, well, you know, NASA's dirty little secret is that its male scientists really haven’t the faintest clue what the hell that planet is up to today, except they're pretty sure we men must have done something – God knows what -- to piss it off. Or maybe it's hormonal. Or it's heading to a massive galactic shoe sale. Whatever. They're a little terrified and anxious for it to be over.

This is gonna be sweet. I got a baby llama, a '73 Chevy Impala, 314 Slinkies and six cases of sweet and sour sauce. I just love pulling impractical jokes!

First they came for the red meat, and I did nothing. Then they came for the trans-fats, and I did nothing. Then they came for the super-size soda, and I did nothing. So, when they finally come for the king-size Snickers bars, there’ll be no other fat-asses around to stand with me in defiance.

Whatever you do, people, do NOT accept someone’s invitation to connect with their KinkedIn account. Eew.

Today's grammar lesson: 1) James Dean, whose exemplification of teen angst made him a cultural icon, starred in "Giant." 2) James Dean starred in "Giant."

1) Rebel with a clause.

2) Rebel without a clause.

The walk of shame: From the car to the rest-area men's room, with several sets of eyes burning holes in your back, 45 minutes after you insisted everyone in the family, by God, go to the bathroom whether they had to or not before you left the house for a road trip. #Dads

"I am large. I contain multitudes of fried shrimp" -- Walt Whitman after his fourth trip through the Golden Corral buffet line.

My wife wishes she had Lorelei Gilmore's scriptwriter feeding her snappy repartee. I wish I had Eric Cartman's. Yeah, I don't know how we've made this work for 29 years this month either.

Thank God, the CDC is out with some consumer tips to avoid having your face eaten off. No. 1: Avoid eye contact with strangers in all-you-can-eat buffet lines. Some of those people -- you've seen that look in their eyes -- WILL eat anything they see.

Democrats, don't be too smug about the Romney campaign's "Amercia" typo. After all, your man once confused the country for a steak sauce (57 states, remember?). Besides, Romney could ice this election if he shows a sense of humor the next time he sings "God Bless America" in public.

So, is being a superhero a lifestyle choice? #GreenLantern

My university's board of regents next week will vote on benefits for same-sex partners. Great timing. Now we can recruit the Green Lantern for our engineering faculty!

Dear ESPN: Sometimes I go several hours -- once, a whole day -- without giving a damn one way or another about LeBron James. Is there a support group?

Superman, for one, sure is relieved. He thought that ringing in his ears whenever the Justice League got together was from Kryptonite. Turns out it was just his super gaydar going off. #GreenLantern

Hey, whoever cuts doughnuts in half in the office breakroom, cease and desist your heinous butchery. All we got now is a bunch of pastries with goofy little notches in them. Happy Doughnut Day anyway.

Next? Betty and Veronica, please. #GreenLantern

A National Doughnut Day tip: When you order a dozen, never leave the selection up to the bakery staff, or they'll stick you with three of those godawful coconut-sprinkled ones.