So, did you hear about the guy in Rotterdam who got thrown out of college because he had smelly feet? I know: it’s a killer story.

Get this: Teunis Tenbrook (known in the press as the “Smelly Feet Man”) just won a TEN YEAR legal battle to get re-enrolled at Erasmus University, where students and faculty had complained that they couldn’t focus on their studies due to the extraordinarily obnoxious odor of the SFM’s feet.

Now, call me overly practical, say I’m madly money-conscious, but I’m thinking of the legal fees the SFM must’ve incurred over the decade. I mean, wouldn’t it have been more cost-effective to, say, wash his socks? I mean, with what those lawyers charge, you could even hire a couple of sock-washers. (It’s a dirty job, but I know a couple of ex-governors looking for work.).

You could even bloody well buy new socks every day and still come out way ahead, by my calculations. (I’m told, by the way, that Jerry Lewis wears new socks every day. I’m not sure if this is accurate, or just a thrilling rumor, but you don’t see old J.L. getting thrown out of college.)

Anyway, the court has ruled that you can’t expel a guy for odor issues, so the SFM is back in, the judge telling those offended ones that they will just have to “hold their noses.” The SFM’s working on a degree in philosophy. Let’s hope, for everyone’s sake, he graduates soon, or he won’t be the only one making a big stink.

Obama sent me a Valentine!

Well, sort of, I mean, indirectly. Well, to be honest, I sent it to myself at his suggestion. Okay, he didn’t personally suggest it, like, text me from his Blackberry or something, but…here’s what happened:

Somewhere, I read a list of B. O.’s favorite foods. All Americans should keep this list handy, because, being the populist that he is, you never know when Barack might drop in for dinner. Even I, a self-described crabby cook, would be okay with cooking for Barack. Especially when I read his list:

First, his dislikes: mayonnaise, salt and vinegar chips, asparagus and soft drinks.
So, if you really have it in for him, say you’re a vengeful McCainiac, you might make that casserole of asparagus in a creamy mayo sauce with crumbled S ‘n V’s on top. And Pigs’ Legs in Coca-cola, a dish for which I actually have the recipe, if you are interested.

Obama likes the following: sparkling water, trail mix (Planter’s, that is), roasted almonds, pistachios, MET-Rx Chocolate Roasted Peanut Protein bars, and vegetables (especially broccoli and spinach). How easy is that? A quick trip to Whole Foods and you’ve got an Obama party in your pantry.

Oh, but the final item on the ‘likes’ list is…the thing. Apparently, he’s crazy for Fran’s Chocolates, specifically her Smoked Salt Caramels. I read this and went straight to the website. A few days later, I got a lovely, Valentine-y red box of handmade heaven. These are so good, I know if I’d been eating them longer I, too, would be president. (Or at least Secretary of State.)

You should order these either to 1) experience extreme pleasure, 2) get elected to public office, or 3) have on hand in case Obama shows up and you’re out of trail mix.
And when those candies show up at your door, you can tell everyone that Obama sent you a Valentine, and you’d be almost not lying.

Groundhog Day came and went in L.A. and nobody noticed. We can’t afford such trivial ceremonies in this big, fat, broke state, and also, since it’s currently eighty degrees, discussion of seasonal changes here is a fatuous time-waster. You’re better off talking about more relevant issues, like that rumor I heard about condos on the moon, or Christian Bale’s bad behavior.

Groundhog day was, however, acknowledged in many other more with-it locations, like Canada. Groundhogs in three locations there predicted six more weeks of winter. Of course, I could have told you that, and last time I checked, I’m no rodent. I mean, it’s Canada, so, duh.

In Staten Island, however, it’s a different story; you might actually see a crocus in New York before too long. But the G-Day ceremony there, featuring a recalcitrant groundhog named Staten Island Chuck, turned into a mini-melee when the g-hog bit the mayor.

Apparently not ready for his close-up, Chuck refused to come out of his hole. Bloomberg tried to lure him with a corncob, which resulted in the attack. (What, Chuck was holding out for sushi?) Luckily, the animal was pronounced rabies-free and the mayor resumed his less-challenging duties later in the day.

What I want to know is, how do they select these groundhogs? Don’t they vet them? You’d think they could find, in N.Y.’s vast pool of highly qualified g-hogs, one that wouldn’t bite the hand that feeds him.