(I'll be writing about our trip to Rome in a few weeks. In the meantime, here is something I found stuffed in the seat pocket in front of me on the flight home.)

Well, I'm flying home to the good ol' U.S.A. after spending a week touring Italy. I didn't know much about it, except that Rome was founded by Romulus and his Uncle Remus, and that it was ruled by some guy named Sid Caesar, and that another Caesar named Nero Wolf burned it down.

Luckily, I didn't need to do much research, as the flight over had a documentary on Italy (with Merrill Streep) called, Mama Mia. In it, I learned that most Italians break into song at the drop of a hat, and like to dance to bad Swedish soft-rock music.

The people of Rome are all Italian and have those Italian accents. They keep calling Rome, "Rom-a." (Well, they should call Venice, "Aroma" - those canals smell so bad!) I saw all kinds of Italians there. They even had Chinese Italians, and African-American Italians! But, I didn't see any midgets there; I don't think there are any Italian midgets. My friends told me to visit the Cat-a-combs while I was there, but I decided not to. Who wants to see an Italian pet grooming salon, anyway?

I toured the Vatican. There was a lot of stuff in the Vatican Museum; it was old and dusty. Lots of statues with their weenies knocked off. You'd think their personnel would be more careful about moving furniture.

I went to see the Sistine Chapel; I don't see what's so great about it. It was crowded in there. People kept looking up. I figured maybe some birds got in, like they do at the Costco back home, so I immediately opened the umbrella I always carry with me. Two priests threw me out.

I was out in the Vatican Gardens, when the Pope opened a window, stuck his head out, and started shouting at me. "Achtung! Get off of der grass, you schwinehundt!" he yelled. Boy, what a grouch!

I got hungry and stopped off at the Vatican Mc Donald's to get lunch. I ordered a "Popeburger" and a bag of "French friars", and got to play the "Spanish Inquisition Scratch-off Game". (I didn't expect that!) At a souvenir stand, I bought a little Matchbox version of the Popemobile.

Every tour I went on, the Italian guides would brag about all the saints they had in Italy. I didn't bother to learn any Italian. The guides all had those Italian accents, like I said, but I still was able to piece together some of their stories.

There was St. Bingo the Dyslexic, who worked in a spaghetti factory. He was in charge of the alphabet soup. He was later ordained a priest and became famous for doing the Stations of the Cross out of order. He'd start to say mass and halfway through get lost and have to start all over again.

Before an Italian can be declared a saint, he has to work some miracles after he dies, for the people back on earth. Someone testified to St. Bingo's miracle: "On St. Bingo's feast day, I poured Cocoa Puffs into my cereal bowl, and the milk turned to chocolate!"

St. Homunculus the Deaf went to meditate in a bell tower and spent fifty-five years there. His famous saying was, "What?" One of the miracles that got his remains shot out of a canon - or "canonized" - was this one: "I was afraid of my boss, and prayed to St. Homunculus for help. I was fired the next day."

St. Pending, the Uncertain. When asked if he had finally learned how to make up his mind, answered, "Yes, and no." Like many saints, he worked miraculous deeds while still on earth. His most famous miracle happened while walking cross country on a pilgrimage to Rome. He came to a lake; he couldn't decide whether to part the waters or walk on them. So, he returned home instead. After he died, a witness to his canonization announced, "I was waiting at a stop-light for a long time. I prayed to St. Bingo, and the light turned green!"

One of the most celebrated Italians is Leonardo da Vinci (or, "Leonard the Pincher"). He invented many things, like the prototypes for the helicopter and tank. He also invented the first bra. A prominent Rabbi came to him to design a yarmulke for a set of co-joined twins that were in his congregation. Leonardo came up with co-joined skull caps with a long chin strap. The wives of the twins took a fancy to the headwear, took to wearing them on their chests, and they soon became a fashion sensation.

I stopped to get directions from a cop. "How do I get to the Trevi Fountain?" I asked.

"Manicotti bruschetta tutti-frutti panini," he said. He didn't seem to understand, so I tried again, this time in Italian. "Which-a way-a to-a da Trevi Fountain-a?"

He answered, "Lasagna maraschino biscotti." It was hopeless. I finally found it on my own.

The Fountain is famous for being in a movie called Three Coins in the Fountain. The legend that goes with it says that - depending on how many coins you throw in - your wishes will come true. One coin thrown in means you will return to Rome. Two coins means you'll have a new romance. Three coins means a ménage a trois . Four coins means you'll get married. Five coins means you'll never need Viagra. I threw in six coins, because you never know.

Rome is full of old buildings like the Coliseum and the Circus Maximus - which was no circus at all! Rip off! Everywhere I went there were pizza stands, but try to find a PizzaHut; just try! I almost got hit by a motor scooter at a red light. Rome was too much for me, and I was glad to get back to airport to fly home and get back to America and some real Italian food.

Arrivederci, Rome!

(Luckily, we had a better time than our anonymous correspondent did. Report in a few weeks.)