Never before have I written about a topic that has generated the volume and vociferousness of mail that last week's Weird Chronicles on the Kokomo hum did. Apparently, we're big in Kokomo, which of course is the goal of every columnist everywhere. Dave Barry will no doubt start taking my calls now, instead of having me routed to his dog.

Provided all the mail from Kokomo residents (Kokomikians? Kokomokers?) is true, the townsfolk appear to be split in two camps.

On the one hand, you've got the people who hear the hum in one or more of its incarnations, anywhere from idling Kenworth to humming fluorescent tube. Auditory affliction aside, they seem to be a fairly rational and affable group of people, willing to answer questions and not overly touchy when confronted with some gentle skepticism.

The other group not only professed not to hear the hum, but went out of its way to convince me that those who do were nothing more than the town's assortment of crackpots, cranks, and tinfoil hat wearers. They seemed almost obsessive in their need to prove to me that Kokomo is a nice, normal town with absolutely nothing whatsoever odd going on in the auditory spectrum.

In most cases in my experience, the "hearer" group would be the ones who, after a few minutes' exposure, would have me trying to find a polite way to end the conversation and get as far away as possible. That was not so this time around. It was the self-styled chamber of commerce types who gave me the heebie-jeebies. Ever seen the old "Star Trek" episode where the stone-faced locals are trying to get Kirk and company to join with "the Body?" Bingo.

I'll continue to keep an open mind either way, and look forward to seeing what the Kokomo powers that be get for the $100,000 they're spending to investigate the hum. In the meantime, continue to keep me posted on any developments or notions you'd like to share.

And now, on with the show!

The Weird Wires are going clothing-optional this week, but you might want to put on some dark glasses or find some way to keep from looking. It may not be pretty.

Fly The Naked Skies

Who hasn't had the urge to stand up in the middle of a long flight and doff all clothes? Well, if you fly with Castaways Travel from Florida to Mexico this summer, you might be able to make that dream come true.

Co-owner Jim Bailey says the company has chartered a 727 jet to shuttle tourists to Mexico, and once the plane has reached its cruising height the passengers will be invited to disrobe.

Safety first, though! No hot food or drinks will be served to naked passengers.

This should make the folks who were thrown into a tizzy by the concept of Hooter's Air incredibly happy. At least they'll be pretty much hijacker proof.

Bridge Over Troubled Peepers

West Coast nudists aren't neglected in this week's edition, of course. They're getting their very own footbridge built across a freeway in Palm Springs to connect two parts of a nudist resort.

The bridge will have privacy screens attached to the sides to avoid creating traffic chaos, but I'm thinking that may just add to the problem. How many rear-end crashes are going to be caused by Joe Pervert trying to peer between or under the screens to catch a glimpse of a well-turned ankle or naughty bit?

I say, drop the screens and let these folks walk proudly!

Free Willy!

The lovers' lanes of Georgia are no longer filled with potential criminals thanks to recent action by the state Supreme Court. The august jurists struck down at 170-year-old law that made sex between unmarried people a crime.

The ruling came in the case of a 16-year-old boy who was caught having sex with his girlfriend in her home.

Having once been a teenager, I can say with a fair amount of authority that, were I caught in flagrante delicto with a girlfriend, especially in her home, I'd welcome prison. I probably would have gotten out before I'd have been off grounding, and the prison folks wouldn't make me do yard work as punishment.

Urban Legend Of The Week

Since we're dealing with matters sordid and unsavory, I thought I'd trot out one of my very favorite bits of linguistic curiosity.

The origins of profanity are always items of curiosity, and none moreso than those of the "F" word. There are as many theories on its origin as there are colloquial uses of the word itself and gestures to accompany it. This week's legend covers what is certainly the most common nonverbal way to express this profanity.

According to legend, when the British and French faced off at the Battle of Agincourt, the French, who were overwhelmingly favored to win the battle, threatened to cut a certain body part off of all captured English soldiers so that they could never fight again. The English won in a major upset and waved the body part in question at the French in defiance.

Get your minds out of the gutter! The body part in question was the middle finger, without which the English soldiers would be unable to pull the strings on the famous and deadly English longbows. The bows were made most commonly of wood from the yew tree, so after the battle the English soldiers capered about, showing their still-attached middle fingers and shouting that they could still "pluck yew."

Are you chuckling yet? You should be. This tale has little if any historical mooring, and completely disregards the actual linguistic derivations of the words involved.

However, please feel free to use it to "settle" bar bets and make yourself seem a linguistic god.

This and tons of other Urban Legends and netlore can be found at the About.com Urban Legend site, run by my unknown clone, David Emery.

Next week is already looking like it's going to continue our parade of immorality and sleazy behavior. Ah, America is back to normal! As ever, I await your letters, screeds, homemade snacks and bags of gold bullion. Just drop me a line anytime!