Which Comes First: The Joke or the Excuse for the Making off the Joke?

In this case the excuse, though it might more properly be called an opportunity.

Tomorrow -- or as soon as we eat up all the fruit in the house -- we start the South Beach diet. Sabbatical has been a wonderful time, and my wisdom has swelled in volume, as the oceans of the world are swelling as the polar icecaps thaw which, if I understand Bush correctly, was prophesied in Revelations, so kwitcherbellyachin'.

I digress.

My wisdom has swelled, and my waistline, too, since I've spent most of the last year in sweat pants and baggy shorts. For what is an old and familiar leather belt with a fixed number of holes but an early warning system in the flab wars? But now I must cram myself into my fusty musty pedagogical wardrobe. So I say to Mr. Anonymous (I know who you are) who snarked away at my most recent post:

I assure you that when it comes to my return to university teaching the only pants I am interested in getting into are my own.

(Pause.)

I believe that this is the moment someone utters an appreciate groan, is it not?