R.I.P.: Ferdinand Porsche, creator of the famous sports car, has died at 88. “But his funeral was delayed because his hearse is in the shop.” (Stephen Hendricks)
R.I.P. II: “Porsche reportedly lived a fast life, aging from 0 to 60 in 45 years.” (Stan Kaplan)
Chariots of Fire: Finishing first in the L.A. Marathon was Zebedayo Bayo. “Following close behind in second place was a house from Laguna Niguel.” (Gary Moore)
Love Drug: The FDA has approved a pill that cures male impotence. “Side effects include dizziness and a temporary feeling of exhilaration, followed by possible impeachment.” (Argus Hamilton)
A Restaurant to Die For: A Baltimore businessman is creating a chain of theme restaurants called Crash Cafes. “Oh, man. How much do you have to tip the parking valets at this place?” (Steve Voldseth)
Sinking Feeling: The re-release of the movie “Grease” did well at the box office over the weekend. “To guarantee its success, the studio digitally erased John Travolta’s hot rod and replaced it with a doomed luxury liner.” (Premiere Radio)
Does NASA Have Preboarding? “What do you think it’ll be like for the younger astronauts on John Glenn’s upcoming spaceflight? Glenn will be constantly talking about the old days: ‘In my day, we didn’t have a fancy shuttle. . . . We had to mix our own Tang by hand. . . . Turn that radio down! . . . I had to spacewalk five miles through meteor showers every day. . . . You kids today, you land the shuttle on airstrips. We landed in the middle of the ocean.’ ” (Jay Leno)
Suicide Watch: Oregon’s first doctor-assisted suicide took place when a terminally ill woman ate a concoction of barbiturates, syrup and brandy. “Or as Boris Yeltsin calls it, ‘breakfast.’ ” (Voldseth)
Saddam and Gomorrah: U.N. inspectors have begun exploring Iraq’s presidential places. “So far, the only interesting thing they’ve turned up is some Whitewater documents from the Rose law firm.” (Andy Waits)
The Heavily Edited David Letterman:
Top 10 cool things about winning an Academy Award . . .
10. Weld it to the hood, and your ’83 Buick becomes a kick-ass Oscarmobile.