While Rep. Anthony Weiner can't be sure if the party pic of someone in underwear that was Tweeted on his account is a picture of him or not, let me be unequivocal: It's not me. While there are a couple of details that might cause a casual viewer to be mistaken, my legs are more muscular and much hairier.

Also, if the Kansas City Royals are looking for a dead-armed pitcher to complete their starting line-up of one promising rookie and four dreadful veterans (including one who was recently proclaimed "the worst pitcher in major league history" by a blogger for the Kansas City Star), I am available. I'd like to firm up a potential down payment for a house, and even the rookie minimum will do the deal. I'm only 41 and left-handed (which is still young for a "crafty lefty," I am told). Most of the time, my pitches would get to the plate. I might not win a game, which puts me on par with all those veterans right now.

My friends on the right side of my beloved Libertarian Socialist party have begged me to reconsider my recent announcement declining any role in 2012 presidential politics. They say that the GOP nomination might default to just about any candidate who is demonstrably not an idiot and not crazy. But let me make this clear: I am not running for anything next year. Period.

Rumors that I might be called up to be the token white guy at the end of the Miami Heat bench for the NBA finals were also dreadfully unfounded. I'm only 5' 11" (5' 11 1/2" in my Doc Martens), and I'm slower off the dribble than Dan Marino. I also can't rebound for shit. I just don't know where some folks get this stuff.

It is true that I am looking for a new favorite beer. I've gone a while without a favorite, though I tend to tell people that Bell's makes the best stuff. Just don't ask me to pick one. But I know that my all-time favorites are Belgians, and it's time for me to make a choice. I'll let you know when I have made the call. What I can tell you is that there will a lot of tasting required before I make the call.

As regular readers of this column no doubt already know, I did not kill myself when the Caps dropped their second round series with the Tampa Bay Lightning. I'd been telling anyone who would listen that if your two best defensemen are rookies, a deep run in the playoffs is unlikely. Of course, that same circumstance this season makes a deep run quite likely in the next two or three years. And seriously; the only people demanding that Ovechkin be traded are Carolina fans.

Also, I am gainfully employed as the school year elapses. My youngest entered Kindergarten last August, and I started looking for regular work. After a two-month contract job last fall, I picked up a two-week temporary gig in February. I'm still there, and I'm being paid a lot more. The work is dull, but it pays and there's a modest sense that my efforts are sticking it to the man. In any case, my prediction that I would get a permanent job (or as permanent as is possible) by the time the school year ended has come to pass.

Now I can afford to buy all that Belgian beer I need to finish my quest for a new favorite beer.

Jon Worley is also not shopping for a new car, new kids or a new wife. But he wouldn't mind a couple of weeks so that he could re-read the Vonnegut oeuvre without distraction.