Hello, Eleanor?

In the fiercest contest seen on the radical circuit this season, PETA versus ACTUP was a classic overtime confrontation between two titans of the left. Perhaps a wee mite overconfident due to their previous unrivaled supremacy atop the Politically Correct League, the animal-rights movement's grizzled veterans seemed stunned when challenged by upstart rookies filling the roster of the plucky AIDS activists. Pitching their usually capable heavyweight battery of "animals are dying in their own feces" and "anyone who has a heart is going to care," the PETA team astonishingly failed to mine its deep bench of celebrities bolstering its cause. Apparently, Kim Basinger's rotator cuff was more seriously damaged than first thought. In response, the AIDS activists struck swiftly with a surprise counter-demonstration featuring a barrage of speakers who owe their lives to animal research. They proceeded to stun the defending champions by trotting out their secret weapon, Jeff Getty, the baboon-bone-marrow-transplant dude. And that's when the fur really started to fly. Just the first in what promises to be a series of skirmishes. An exciting season of battles looms before us, with both sides blitzing the media for the right to call itself "darling of the left."

* Stanford University, where scientists found a genetic key to the aging process in worms, which means one day man will finally break the shackles of mortality and fish much longer with the same bait.

Actual slogan by communist candidate Gennady Zyuganov in his presidential race against Boris Yeltsin: "A bus driver can't go to work without a breathalyzer, but apparently a person can rule an entire country in any condition." Ooh, scathing. Among the eight others who ran for Head Russian were the guy who started this whole election nonsense, Mikhail Gorbachev, and Vladimir Zhirinovsky, a man so angry he makes David Duke look like a character on Disney's Animaniacs. It was good to see the Russkies getting into the American spirit of things. Other slogans the candidates trotted out: YELTSIN, HE'S THE ONE, OR HE KNOWS HOW TO FIND WHERE HE'S BURIED; ZHIRINOVSKY, LIKE HITLER--IN THE BEGINNING, WHEN HE WAS GOOD; THE ONLY GOOD RED IS A DEAD RED; VOTE FOR ME AND YOUR MOTHER WON'T END UP IN A GULAG; GORBACHEV: VOTE FOR THE BRAIN WITH THE STAIN; IN YOUR HEART, YOU KNOW HE'S DRUNK.

* Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where some guy spent half a million dollars to buy all of Jeffrey Dahmer's personal effects just so he could destroy them. Meanwhile, they're going to release seven grams of Timothy Leary's ashes into orbit--even though they must have a street value of a couple of million dollars.

Heroin is the new big deal again. Fashion photographers are bringing us that "junkie look." As an advertising exec might say, "Smack Is Back." I guess every generation has to make its own mistakes. Personally, I think this period could pass with no more than a couple of thousand people dying in their own vomit, and the rest of us squares could be left relatively undisturbed as long as everybody remembers to follow a few basic common courtesies. Here are Durst's Helpful Hints for Neophyte Heroin Users:

1. Try not to nod off at the wheel, or facedown in soup.

2. Tattoo your address somewhere on your person. According to Newt Gingrich, that's how half the homeless got started. They had perfectly good houses; they just forgot where.

3. Tying off in a public restroom is fine, as long as you are not sprawled across more than one urinal.

4. Coffee will never sufficiently wake you up, and nobody likes a jittery junkie.

5. Long-sleeve shirts can be worn for all occasions except water-skiing.

6. Only carry works in your pants pocket if you have no plans to sit.

* Los Angeles, California, where Manny the Hippie recently went to a talent agency and expressed interest in becoming famous, although he was totally stymied when asked what it was he did.

In the Los Angeles County School District, more than two dozen schools have eliminated the traditional class valedictorian because administrators are wary of singling out any one person for outstanding achievement for fear of making the other students feel a little less-than. What they're saying, I guess, is that competition is too competitive. And they're right. High school isn't about academics, it's about clothes, and getting by doing as little as possible, and perfecting the locker-room towel snap so you leave quarter-sized welts on the butts of dorks who volunteer as library monitors. A perfect discipline for training the future scions of world finance. As a matter of fact, why should any eminent endeavor be rewarded. Basketball teams should be made up of everyone who wants to play, with playing time doled out evenly. Games will be played a minimum of eight hours, completed only when both teams contrive to arrive at a tie. This teaches the crucial art of persistence and compromise, critical skills for any who later in life find themselves attending a planning meeting where the entire agenda is to plan the next meeting.

* Washington, D.C., where the Lincoln Memorial is undergoing refurbishing. Tourists are encouraged to visit those other famous stone monuments: Washington, Jefferson, and Al Gore.

"Friends of Bill" used to mean influential campaign donors, but now pretty much refers to cell block "C" in the Little Rock Jailhouse. So the news flash is: Hillary Clinton had imaginary conversations with Eleanor Roosevelt and Gandhi! Yeah, so? As long as she knew they were imaginary conversations. After her recent run-ins with Al D'Amato, I wouldn't be surprised to find her burning pentagrams on the South Lawn, sacrificing Socks on an altar of charred Rose Law Firm billing records. Now, if she thought she had real conversations with Eleanor Roosevelt or got into impassioned arguments with tiny animated Communist mice, then I say we got ourselves a problem. But the First Lady having imaginary conversations with a Do-Gooder Hall-of-Famer has to rank right up there on the emergency meter with Chelsea's continuing problems with parallel parking while pointing up a hill. You don't think Bob Dole addresses Richard Nixon's spirit every time he sees his poll numbers slip lower than British cow futures? Who knows? Maybe Eleanor Roosevelt has information Hillary Clinton could use should this whole election thing take an ugly turn. Maybe Psychic Friends Network needs a Little Rock chapter.