Recently in Wellsford (motto: "you're sitting in it now"), residents reported an outbreak of Random Strangers. Perhaps you think there are no Random Strangers in Wellsford. Perhaps you are an idiot.

As the French say, au contraire (literally: "By God! I didn't think people could be that ugly!"). I have here in my hands a copy of an Associated Press article sent in by alert reader Vanessa, whose name can be rearranged to spell "VAASNSE", although that is not my main point. "Vanessa", by the way, only has the letters "anessa" in in common with "Monica Lewinsky", so there is no other reason to mention Monica Lewinsky in this column.

According to a quote which I am not making up, from Wellsford Mayor Ernest Farr (formally "Mayor Ernest" and informally "Chris"), Random Strangers ranks as a major crisis just behind Lions, Tigers and Bears (insert your "Oh my!" joke here), as evidenced by the following conversation between Wellsford government employees:
FIRST WELLSFORD EMPLOYEE: "Call me, 4314901"
SECOND WELLSFORD EMPLOYEE: "Get a haircut"
FIRST WELLSFORD EMPLOYEE: "On second thoughts, don't"

Fortunately I have a suggestion for Mayor Chris, and that is: shag George Steinbrenner's brother. No, seriously, my suggestion does not involve George Steinbrenner's brother, although it might involve enjoying Tobacco Institute scientists. My suggestion is more along the lines of a coup de grace, from the French coup, meaning "eating", and de grace, meaning "candyfloss". The procedure (you may want to write this down):
1.move to Shelbyville
2.panic

But instead the Wellsford city council (motto: "We'll drown you in propaganda when you pry the coconut husk out of our cold, dead fingers") thinks that they (the Random Strangers) will dispense love advice soon, sending this message to the public, and to the world: "honk if you love Jesus".

Speaking of which, "The Wellsford Random Strangers Outbreak" would be a great name for a rock band.