Tony Kornheiser is back. Within these pages, the celebrated Washington Post columnist, Pardon the Interruption cohost, and ESPN radio personality relates his experience as an OnStar user, the proud new owner of the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ, and a “phone-a-friend” on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. And in between, he dishes political commentary on Monica and Bill and George W. and Al. New for the paperback edition is Tony’s final Washington Post Style column. So read all about his quest to fit into size 36 Dockers and his struggle to buy holiday gifts. And know that in the process you’re handing this Kornheiser guy way too much dough for these columns. “ I’m Back for More Cash shows off the versatility, the wit and the self-deprecating style that have made his humor columns for the Post so popular.” — Associated Press “A hoot . . . In bites of a thousand words or less, Kornheiser offers happenin’ zingers from the turn of the century, complete with rimshots and all the brio of Henny Youngman.” — Kirkus Reviews ser is back. Within these pages, the celebrated Washington Post columnist, Pardon the Interruption cohost, and ESPN radio personality relates his experience as an OnStar user, the proud new owner of the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ, and a phone-a-friend on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. And in between, he dishes political commentary on Monica and Bill and George W. and Al. New for the paperback edition is Tony s final Washington Post Style column. So read all about his quest to fit into size 36 Dockers and his struggle to buy holiday gifts. And know that in the process you re handing this Kornheiser guy way too much dough for these columns. Tony Kornheiser is back. Within these pages, the celebrated "Washington Post columnist, Pardon the Interruption cohost, and ESPN radio personality relates his experience as an OnStar user, the proud new owner of the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ, and a "phone-a-friend" on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. And in between, he dishes political commentary on Monica and Bill and George W. and Al. New for the paperback edition is Tony's final Washington Post Style column. So read all about his quest to fit into size 36 Dockers and his struggle to buy holiday gifts. And know that in the process you're handing this Kornheiser guy way too much dough for these columns. Tony Kornheiser is a sports columnist for The Washington Post. His Style column was syndicated nationwide. He brings his knowledge, opinion, and humor to a national radio and TV audience on ESPN. He lives in Washington, D.C., with his family. Disney on Fear I recently got back from a family vacation at Disney World. Family vacations are great. I got to spend quality time with two teenage children, who love and respect me. (I rented them. My own kids wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near me. At the Animal Kingdom I overheard them plotting to push me out of the halftrack in the hopes I would be trampled by a gnu.) Obviously, I have decided to write about my vacation at Disney World—at great personal risk, since the radio show I do on ESPN is part of the Disney empire. So in a way I am biting the hand that feeds me. And in the case of the “character breakfasts” at Disney World—where people dressed up as lovable Disney characters, like Chip and Dale, come up to your table and paw you incessantly while you eat—I considered literally doing that. In fact, at one breakfast when Goofy began sucking on my head as I was eating my scrambled eggs, I flirted with the idea of whipping out a Zippo and setting him on fire. How many years on a psychiatrist’s couch do you think the average five-year-old would have needed after seeing a Goofy flambé? (Hey, I’m joking. I wouldn’t actually set Goofy on fire. The Little Mermaid, maybe.) I’ve got nothing against Disney characters, but what explains their powerful attraction for me? Do I look like such a dork that I’d want to have a photo taken with a grown adult wearing a Styrofoam chipmunk head? Plus, the breakfast is crawling with kids, whose idea of a buffet is to grab anything with sugar and glaze on top—and drown it in syrup. These kids are stickier than Monica Lewinsky’s closet. And then they run to Chip and Dale, and rub their gooey hands and faces on them. And I’m supposed to snuggle up to these oozing fur balls? I’d rather be locked in a room with Roberto Benigni. After breakfast we headed for the theme parks and the rides. At the entrance to each ride there’s a sign that tells you how long a wait you have before you ride. You get on a line and walk through a complex, serpentine system of ropes until you either: (1) reach the ride, or (2) your bladder is the size of the Hindenburg. I probably picked a bad week to go to Disney World, it being spring break. I don’t want to say the place was crowded, but as we walked out the door of the hotel I saw this sign: from this point you are 8 hours from any ride. in this heat and humidity, by the time you get t