like experiments. Like when that New York Times Magazine article ran about how everyone could lose a zillion pounds if they just ate fat and gristle, I spent a week eating eggs and bacon and cheese. I'd been badmouthing that diet for years, and I figured it was time to test it out for myself. I maybe lost a pound or two, but on the fifth day, I went to sleep dreaming of orange juice and carrots, my heart threatening an attack. At least now I know.

At the end of my "Morning News" piece, I tried another experiment. I would send a postcard to the first 25 people who requested one. Really, I thought no one would respond. And if anyone responded, I thought it would be my friends or my parents, whose refrigerator is blanketed in postcards but would request 25 more, I'm sure, just to make me feel better. But the emails rolled in. Pretty steady, for two days, until I had the addresses of 34 perfect strangers. That phrase actually prompted one of the postcards, "The Postcard of Perfect Strangers," in which I reminisce about the Eighties slapstick comedy with Balkie and his beleagured Cousin Larry. Do you hear that sound? It's the bottom of the barrel being scraped.

I will not complain. I enjoyed it. I did send more than 25 postcards, because I have difficulty saying no. I just sent in my last postcard bunch this morning, and then someone from Austin requested one. How can I say no to Austin? Texas requested more than any other state (4), followed by New York (3) and Massachusetts (3). I sent a postcard to the United Arab Emirates. I sent a postcard to Japan. Don't send any more requests please. I'm out of ideas. Although I think I came up with a few good ones. If you happen to be the proud owner of "Complete Lies About David Blaine, Street Magician," you are the lucky winner.