It’s Sunday, and that means it’s Carmine Time!

I’m madder than my editor when he once again has to go through my column and fix all the capitalization mistakes (like always spelling the word “doctor” with a capital “d” even though I’m not mentioning the guy who keeps me alive by name) over the fact that some newspapers and editors and television stations don’t know where to draw the line on common decency.

Look, by now you probably have figured out that this week I’m screeching about the irresponsible reporting done by New York’s Picture Newspaper which has the Gaul, the nerve, and the audacity to print a picture of the product some psycho used to maim a woman when he got mad at her. Now, I know that all of us read the News, and I’ve always preferred its sports section to that of the Post because they had Mark Kreigel for a while there, but I gotta tell you the editor who chose to show the brand of sulfuric acid that can be purchased at any hardware store should be fired. That should not have been printed in a decent family newspaper. Why? Because now every sicko and his brother can go out there and purchase the very same stuff — and know that it is, in fact, sulfuric acid. Then they can do terrible things to other people with it.

Shame on you, Daily News. Shame, shame, shame!

Speaking of sugary drinks, how about the mayor banning them, and then being snapped taking a slug from a giant beer stein? Talk about chutzpah!

And another thing, what about these guys getting welfare checks that are on drugs. I got one of those electronical letters that don’t have to be put in a mailbox from a friend that questioned why those guys don’t have to take drug tests like Major League Baseball players.

But it got me thinking: shouldn’t these guys give urine samples to make sure they’re out there trying to be a stand-up philosopher when they claim to be a stand-up philosopher before they get their bag of money every week?

I mean, what if they’re not trying to find work and are just sitting around the house smoking those funny-looking cigarettes and eating Cheetos?

Not that I got anything against Cheetos. I just heard it’s something that they do, you know, because they get hungry or something. That’s not a problem for me, of course, because I don’t smoke dope. But if I did, imagine how hungry I would be! Jeez, they’d never get me off the couch in front of my Zenith.

I’d probably be watching cartoons on Nick Jr. and learn some pretty interesting things about those shows. They’ve got a family of talking pigs over there. And if you close your eyes, it sounds like they have a gas problem!

But I digress.

Now the point in the column where I make a silly reference to urination.

If they did make those potheads take a drug test, they could call it “Your in or your out!”

Get it! Oh, do the math.

Now’s the point in the column where a give a shout-out to a hospital I once vilified.

A neighbor of mine called me on the phone and asked to speak to me. She told me I had to write a story on how well Coney Island Hospital treated her husband when he was hospitalized there after his stroke. And I should also mention that her son, a doctor, echoed her praise for the wonderful care his father received.

So I told her that 30 years ago I dissed the place when my mother was taken to its emergency room. I ran three columns on the horrors of it.

Well, I guess ol’Carmine has done it again, because apparently corrective measures were taken. So now, I’m happy to report that I’ve heard many, many good things about the hospital, the care given, and its concern with the community needs.

So I am delighted to bring this information from my neighbor Sheila to your attention.

Oh! And just in case I missed saying it in last week’s column, Happy New Year to all.

Screech at you next week!

Read Carmine every Sunday on BrooklynPaper.com. E-mail him at [email protected]!