Have Bridge, Will Bomb.

Hey, everybody, guess what? The United States has a missile deficit. I Who would have thunk? It seems we, a.k.a. The Good Guys, have pummeled those pesky Serbs close to submission with too many cruise missiles, and now we're running out. Of missiles, that is, not Serbian targets.

Doesn't that just wrap your undies in a knot the size of Madagascar? Poor Uncle Sam in his stocking feet padding to the missile cupboard and coming up empty. Oh, sure, he's got 2,000 Tomahawks left in the downstairs pantry, but only two-thirds of those are the most excellent kind with new improved Crater Helper, and he's expected to whip through 300 of them next week taking out bridges and orphanages and such in the name of humanity. Originally designed to carry nuclear payloads, the Tomahawks wowed critics in their premier performance as tactical weapons during Desert Storm and graduated to become the entire offensive line of the Pentagon. Unfortunately, production stopped in 1997 to develop an even hunkier tactical cruise missile with Amazing Cluster Crystals, but it won't be ready for four years.

However, don't you for a minute think the good old U.S.A. doesn't have standby plans. We are seriously considering upgrading 146 dumb bombs with conversion kits costing $350,000 apiece. But, unfortunately, dumb school seems to be booked up by NATO for next semester, so we might be forced to wage the rest of this non-war with ground troops, which, as we know, is so barbaric.

Frequently asked questions about the Kosovo bombing:

Q: What does NATO call the bombing?

A: Humanitarian intervention, which is a lot like calling mustard gas a really strong antihistamine.

Q: How do we refer to Slobodan Milosevic?

A: The Serbian Strongman, which he should have known was not a good sign. "Strongman" is U.S. shorthand for "guy whose country we're about to bomb back to the Stone Age."

Q: What happened to the peace talks?

A: You don't hold peace talks near Paris, for crum's sake. Didn't we learn anything from Vietnam?

Q: Where should they be held?

A: Places people don't want to be. Dayton springs to mind. And Belgrade. Jersey.

Q: Why are the Serbs opposed to an Albanian ethnic majority?

A: We've asked them and can't seem to get a straight answer. All we get is something that sounds like "not in my backyard" in Serbian.

Q: What are they trying to do about it?

A: The Serbian thought goes, we have to make Serbs the majority here, and there are two ways to do it: One is to make more Serbs, and the other is to make less Albanians. Making less Albanians seems to be the more expedient choice.

Q: In the last year we've bombed Sudan, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Serbia. What gives?

A: Got to clear out excess inventory to make way for the new spring line.

Q: Does Clinton think this whole Serbian thing is just one gigantic game of "Risk" and we're rolling double sixes, or that it's a really well coordinated nineteen-nation drive-by shooting?

A: Yes.

Q: Where is Yeltsin getting the Russian humanitarian aid he's promised the Serbs?

A: From the United States.

Q: Can you make stuff up like this?

A: No.

Q: What does Secretary of State Madeleine Albright mean when, in response to a question about an endgame, she says, "There are a number of ideas out there, but none of those have been settled upon"?

A: "We'll bomb that bridge when we come to it."

In San Francisco, before they build the new Giants stadium, they have to ship 20,000 tons of lead-loaded dirt to Utah, at the cost of $55 a ton.

OK, I know I sound like I have a forty-pound chip on my blue-collar shoulder, but I got to say the news from the Natural Resources Defense Council has made me all warm and fuzzy inside. They called bottled water a bigger scam than an Ed McMahon sweepstakes. More of a ripoff than Steve Forbes spending forty million to be the seventh runner-up in the New Hampshire primary. I call bottled water an expensive reason to get a fancy bottle to fill with ordinary tap water. In a four-year study, 103 brands were tested. One-third contained contaminants exceeding state or federal standards. Estimates are 25 to 40 percent of bottled water is just repackaged municipal tap water. "Pure as an alpine spring," as long as you understand that spring might be runoff from the local dump. The good news is bottled water poses no significant public health risk and is safe to consume. So, that means in the last ten years, over $4 billion has been spent on fancy placebos. P.T. Barnum is alive and well, and he's running Crystal Geyser.

A modest proposal for San Francisco:

I'm here to dispel an ugly rumor, and a right hideous inequity. San Francisco doesn't really hate Oakland. No, no, no. To be honest, except for the forced passthrough on the way to Tahoe and an occasional surgical strike for ribs, we don't give it much thought. But we are jealous.

Why? Because Oakland has the one thing that we San Franciscans would sell our soul to have. That which we desire more than a bottomless cup of half-decal double espresso. More than a lifetime front-row center Beach Blanket Babylon pass. I'm talking of the priceless, the irreplaceable, and the rare: a view of San Francisco. The world-class vista of us.

It's not fair. The prettier old Baghdad by the Bay makes itself, the more beautiful a postcard view Oakland receives. Gratis. For nothing. Free even. Just there for the taking.

And what do we get for all our extravagant skyline fussing and Embarcadero gussying? A view of Oakland. Ick. It's like the dybbuk of Alice Ghostley inhabiting Sharon Stone's looking glass. Like George Hamilton forced to view the likeness of Ernest Borgnine every time he shaves.

Which is why I would like to propose the Bay Mirror Project. The deal is, we erect a huge double-sided mirror out on Treasure Island. San Francisco gets to bask in the glory of its own reflection, and Oakland gets what it deserves: a view of Oakland. Either Willie gets federal funding, or Charlotte squeezes enough private donations out of her Palm Pilot Rolodex. We trademark the process and make coin on franchisement with minor alterations according to locale.

Will Durst is a political comedian, host of PBS's "Livelyhood," and still ducks calls from his parents.