Plain Talkin'

I thought this trend had peaked, but as always when it comes to trend-measuring, I was wrong. Talking about this deal where people will be talking to you normally in a regular even tone of voice and suddenly, when in their speech there comes a word of foreign derivation...

And they go wailing away with the accent! Examples:

..."You know what's really tasty? You take some tomatoes, slice 'em up, toss 'em with some oil and vinegar, and top the dish off with some fresh basil and MOZZZZARELLLLLLLLLLLLLA!"

..."We had a marvelous time the other night over at the O'Hoolahans'! Her old college roommate was there, a girl named FRANCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCA RODRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGUEZ."

..."And then Earl said he didn't want pancakes for breakfast; he wanted CREPPPPPPPPPPPPPPES SUZETTTTTTTTTTTEahhhhhh!"

All in the appropriate accent, if you will.

I really doubt that in the streets of Madrid, Paris or Rome, if you would hear Spaniards, Frenchmen or Italians speaking in their native tongue and then come up on a word of English derivation, that they would suddenly sound like Jim Varney in the middle of their sentence.

My Spanish V teacher in high school used to delight us all with his spot-on impersonations of Johnny Cash, the kid from the Shake 'n' Bake commercial, and any American kid reciting a Spanish dialogue. He was trying to be funny, or at least regain the attention of the class away from me, my impersonation of Milton Berle and my sideline football-betting pool. But people who feel the need to suddenly give voice to their inner Sylvia Poggioli, Fernando Valenzuela or Jacques Costeau are only trying to be earnest.



Or, sometimes, Ernest.

Know what I mean, Vern?

Get Defunct Outta My Face

We were talking the other day about The New Journalism, and Truman Capote's In Cold Blood was an excellent example. Capote saw an article in LIFE magazine about a couple of losers who thought they had a sure bonanza in robbing Kansas farmer Herb Clutter. Just like in some Dragnet episode, they got to his house, tied up his family and then found out that Mr Clutter did all his financials with checks and had hardly any cash on hand around the place anyway. So, they killed the entire family.

Capote, inspired by the small article in LIFE, went to Kansas, which must have been a terrific shock to the Jayhawk state, and wrote the story in a book...as if it were a detective novel. Capote was a wonderfully gifted writer, so much so that I and many other fans of Jack Kerouac were willing to overlook the snippy comment he made about Kerouac's stream of consciousness style ("That's not writing; that's typing.") In Cold Blood is one of those books that I will pick up from time to time and read all the way through again; the writing is that good. Even though I know how everything is going to come out, I like his writing.

Another far more spontaneous example of The New Journalism, which was simply a way of writing non-fiction in a creatively fictional style, was turned in by Tom Wolfe. A feature reporter for the now-defunct New York Herald Tribune, he was sent to write a story about a teenage culture exposition in Southern California, where there was surf music, dancing, slot-car racing and custom cars. Wolfe did all the research and interviews, and when it came time to write the final story, he couldn't find the handle that would please his editors and still make sense. With a deadline approaching, the editor gave up and told Wolfe to just type up his notes and send them in, for some rewrite guy to...rewrite. The editor took the letter Wolfe sent, cut out "Dear Byron," from the top, and let it run just as it was.


This was 1963, and by then Capote was working on In Cold Blood, but not had published it yet.

I love colorful, vivid writing, and pizza. More on pizza later!

I did not study for this quiz

Do you remember your dreams?
I woke up from a nap yesterday and remembered a dream in which the entire family was down the ocean and when I woke up I was disappointed that I was not about to swim in the ocean

How many times have you gotten detention in school?
In my junior year it got to the point where I had to carry a pocket calendar to book my detention appointments! I had it every day for weeks on end.

Did you wake up before 8am this morning?
0515!

Do you wear eyeliner?
No, and I wouldn't, even if I were entering the American Idol competition.

What's something that bothers you?
People being left out of things.

Were you smiling in the last picture taken of you?
I usually cheese bigtime, so yes.

What were you doing at 3am?
Sleeping and needing to visit Tinkletown.

What's something you really want right now, be honest?
Blueberry pie a la mode...but I'm not gonna get it!

Is there anybody you wish you could be spending time with right now?
No, because I'm with Peggy, so that's all I need.

Have your friends ever randomly stopped by your house?
At all hours of the day and night. We'll leave a light on for you.

Did you sleep in past noon today?
I have to be deathly ill to consider sleeping past 0600.

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
No no no.

How many different colors are you wearing right now?
Blue+ orange +green + white = 4.

Do you want someone back in your life?
Nope, everyone is present and accounted for.

How is the weather right now?
dark and kinda chilly.

What are you doing besides this?
iPoddin'.

What's the first thing you did when you woke up?
Turned off the alarm, visited the bathroom, went down and got a cup of tea

What made you happy today?
We went to Friendly Farm, and Peggy was happy that I trimmed the hedge - always fun on one leg!

Would you date someone twenty years older than you?
She would be 78 yoa and would probably fall asleep in the middle of her salad!

Are you listening to music right now?
Right this second it's Andy Williams singing "My Coloring Book." I'm second only to Nelson Muntz in my devotion to the aging crooner from Wall Lake, Iowa.

If you could move out of the house right now, would you?
We moved into this house so there would be more room for my junk and Peggy's treasures. I ain't leaving til it's time to report to Sunset Acres.

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months?
No. 37 years, yeah, but not six months.

What are you looking forward to?
The promise of every new day, the Orioles getting their stuff together, the BIM reunion, vacation...

Do you have strange dreams?
There's one that keeps recurring... an ill-informed shrill squawker from Alaska is elected to higher office than anyone dreamed possible.

Do you have a reason to smile right now?
I liked that my young friend Lauren, from whom I steal these quizzes with great impunity, said there is never a time that she doesn't have reason to smile. I feel the same way. I grin all the time. Even when posing for a driver's license photo, I'm making with the full piano keyboard. One time the lady at a drive-thru bank asked if she could show my license to the other women in the bank because "no one else smiles like that!"

Whose car were you in last?
Peggy's.

Do you like fruity or minty gum?
No gum, no mints, yecch. A friend insisted that I try some watermelon gum not long ago and it took several hours to rid my mouth of the lingering bad taste.

Do you think anyone likes you?
Got to figure someone does! Some might even love me.

Do you look people in the eye when you talk to them?
From the vantage point of being 6'5", my usual vista is the top of their head, but yes I go for eye contact.

What was the last thing you put in your mouth?
Coffee. Taster's Choice. Decaf.

Do you have any piercings? Which ones and how many?
Does a knee replacement count? if so, one.

Do you have any pepto bismol in your house?
The tablets, yes. I can't stand the taste of the pink liquid.

Do you have a favorite flavor of vodka?
Potato.

Is your backyard big enough to fit a trampoline?
Yes and it would be so cool to put it behind and beneath the deck so I could save all those steps - just jump down or up, depending. Got to look into this!

When was the last time you had eggs?
Weekend breakfasts, always. With bacon and grits.

How often do you blow dry your hair? What color is your blow dryer?
My la-z-boy hair cut means it gets shampooed right after I wash my face in the shower and I keep going north. It gets dried with the towel and then I'm good. I think the last time I had a hair drier in my hands it was to remove old wallpaper.

Have you ever gone to bed later than 3 AM?
Used to work midnight shift - so yeah!

Have you been to a surprise party before?
Yes! Surprised?

Would you ever buy someone one of those singing birthday cards?
You mean the kind where they open it and hear a snippet of an old song? No, because Dollar Tree doesn't have that kind of card.

Are you good at wrapping presents?
If I really take my time, I can do a presentable job.


What is your least favorite month?
July because it's TFH and we go on vacay in August!


Have you ever gone to see a movie the day it came out?
I think yes, and it was probably Red Hot Swedish Exchange Student Nurses II, a real classic down at the Earle Theatre.

Are you aware that CD’s come out on Tuesdays and movies come out on Fridays?
Yes because they make a big deal out of in the Best Buy ads. I buy music online now just to avoid the Tuesday rush for the new Lil' Wayne CD.

Do you know anyone that has not completed high school when they should have?
Anyone who has not completed high school should have.

Have you ever listened to The Lonely Island?
Yes, he did the overnights on that smooth jazz station a couple of years ago, didn't he?


Do you like movies/books about drugs? Why?
At my age, the only acid I have to worry about is acid reflux, so no.

Do you have scrap paper by your computer desk?
scrap? One of those note cubes is right here.

Do you make your own money?
Yes but I think the Treasury Dept is getting wise. Plus it's hard to get just the right color of green ink.



Have you ever kept a bag from a store because you liked it?
No, but I love the way Ollie's Bargain Outlet buys bags from stores that went out of business or something, so you get to tote your purchases home in a bag advertising a hardware store in Brattleboro, VT.

Have you ever burnt yourself so that it left a scar?
Yes. Our pizza stone has made my hands look like..pizza.

Was the last thing you drank carbonated?
Beer. Cold, sweet beer, which asks for so little and yet gives so much.

Do you own any yellow clothing?
A couple of shirts. I wore a yellow polo yesterday. But no one asked me to play polo.


Who has the longest hair in your family?
Peggy, of course.

When was the last time you ate a pickle?
From the relish tray at Friendly Farm! Love 'em!

Was the last thing you drank a Coke or Pepsi product?
Never drink soda.

Do you need a smoke break right now?
No, I gave it up years ago.

Have you ever had a pet bird?
We had a parakeet when I was a kid. There was a parrot in front of the Crease bar in Towson. I used to walk by on my lunch hour and teach him to say "Reagan lied! Reagan lied!"

Would you rather have ice cream, freeze pops or popsicles in the Summertime?
I like those coconut frozen fruit bars.



Would you rather wear necklaces, bracelets, rings or earrings?
I wear my wedding ring and nothing else from the jewelry aisle. I'm not flashy.

Do you ever just randomly drive around when you're upset about something?
When I was too young to drive, I looked forward to doing just such a thing. Then once I could drive, it had no appeal. There are too many gozzleheads on the roads today to make driving anything like an enjoyable activity.

A trip to California, the Bahamas, New York, Wisconsin, Utah or Canada. Which do you choose?
Cooperstown, New York, to see the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Do you like the way your hair looks right now?
Yes, I frequently receive flirtatious glances from supermodels because of it. They seem to be enchanted by its sheen and lustre.

Play guitar, sims, keytar, xbox, drums, sing or take a dance class:
I'd love to play drums.

Are you in a hurry to grow up?
What the hell for? So I can get all agitated and join the Tea Party and be surrounded by agitated adults?

Who's pool did you last swim in?
The pool of good grammar, that's whose pool I visited.

Do your parents allow smoking inside your home?
Does anyone really smoke inside their house? Even the guy down the street from here has to stand out on the porch to hoove a Lucky, and it's his house!

If I came to your house, could I find any chocolate?
No, you would be SOL there, sorry.


Would you rather frolic through a field of daisies, sunflowers or daffodils?
Even as childlike as I am at times, I do not frolic, nor do I cavort or gambol. Prancing is also out.

What was the last thing that you charged?
iPod.

Have plans for summer? If so, what?
August vacay in Cape May! Can't wait!

Are you avoiding anyone right now?
Billy Ray Cyrus. He wants to come over and sing that Achy-Breaky song some more.

What was the last song you had on repeat for a good while?
"A Month of Sundays" by Ernest Tubb.

What was the last thing you couldn't believe?
That hippopotami are vegetarians.

What scares you the most in life?
Dick Cheney.

When was the last time you tried not to cry?
Every day this spring, the pollen is making me cry.

Did you succeed?
Just call me "Mr Drippy"!

What do you hear?
Bing Crosby, "I Found a Million Dollar Baby"

Did you learn anything new today? If so, what?
That 90% of the tea partiers dislike the president but they all deny that there could be any racism in that.

What was the last movie you watched?
"Something Wild" with Jeff Daniels and Melanie Griffith.

Who or what caused you to be in the mood you're in now?
I'm generally happy and it's my responsibility to be so.

Ever wanted to tell someone something, but couldn't?
Oh heavens yes!

Do you believe in karma?
There's a lot of it going around!


When was the last time you felt like you were going to pass out?
It must have been when they doped me up for the colonoscopy.



What's the longest time you've held your breath?
January 20, 2001 - January 20, 2009.


What's your favorite type of donut?
I used to love Bavarian Cream, but no more donuts for this boy!

What was the last non-alcoholic beverage you consumed?
TEA!

What color are your headphones?
white.



How do you make money?
I work for the County.



How many people have you ever had oral sex with?
I love talking about sex!

What color is your wallet?
Brown leather. Cobwebs inside.





What's your favorite t.v show?
Family Guy.





Are you in love? With who?
Peggy since the first time I saw her.

What's your job title?
Public Information Specialist




Is the light on in the room you're in?
One lamp.

Favorite fruit:
Lemon!

Where is the person you dislike the most?
At an undisclosed location, preparing to go hunting.

How about the person you have feelings for?
Brushing her teeth!

Do you prefer glass or plastic cups?
It only matters for beer, and then I like a frozen glass glass.

Is your house big or small?
Pretty big for two people to rattle around in!

Can you whistle?
Yes but I wish I could do the finger-in-mouth type. So cool!

Has anybody ever been obsessed with you?
I wouldn't think so. I am not crush-worthy.

Screwed

I'm starting to see a conspiracy. It wasn't all that long ago that I spotted a screw that had nestled itself in Peggy's left front tire.

The other night I saw another screw - it might have been from the same family as the one Peggy ran afoul of - sticking out of the left front tire of my truck.

(George Carlin: "Did you ever have chicken for lunch and chicken for dinner and wonder if the two chickens knew each other?")

As I do for all things automotive, I scooted up to the fantastic Jones Toyota and let them work their wizardry. This one, alas, was a little deeper than the first. The car doc came out and told me that surgery was indicated, and the cost of the patch 'n' plug would be 45 bucks.

But I had bought the tire there! So the repair was free!

Of course, while I waited for the patient to be wheeled out to me, I wandered over and looked over the new cars and trucks. I am caught between conflicting emotions. It's not a dilemma, per se, because a dilemma is a choice between two unpleasant alternatives. The new vehicles are cool as a moose, no question, but a new Camry and a new Tacoma ( I want the full dual cab this time!) will be around 55 thousand semolians.

And on the other hand, the service guys tell me that the car and the truck will run forever. So why get rid of them, when a little routine maintenance will keep them on the road?

Since I like some of the features on these new cars, I guess I will eventually weaken... if nature keeps shoving screws into the tires and I spend enough time at the dealership, who knows?

Alice will help you, so go Cialis

Last weekend, the TODAY show interviewed some 18-year old who has just been elected mayor of Spoonlick, Wisconsin, or some other similarly-named burg. Jenna Wolfe interviewed him, and I had a bet going on with Peggy that at any moment the kid was going to answer her question with "Hyuk-hyuk!" or something else Stoogeworthy. For 18, he acted about 14, and a touch of sophistication is becoming to an elected official, for my money. Even for a little town out in middle of flyover country, you have to figure there is something important for the mayor to do, if it's only showing up at barn fires to hand out donuts to firefighters.

Do you remember the episode of Barney Miller in which Det. Harris went on vacation and brought Barney one of those corny bolo ties from Wyoming? And then Wojo is hypnotized to help him remember details of a case and starts going on about how "Harris brought one of those corny bolo ties and gave it to Barney as a joke! But Barney didn't know it was a joke, so he started wearin' it!"

I think it's much the same here. Not so long ago in Minnesota, a group of people thought they would send a significant message of their disdain with politics by voting for blockhead wrestler Jesse "The Body" Ventura to be governor of their state. Had just a couple of thousand people from the Great State of Minnesota voted for the burly grappler, perhaps everyone would have said, "Oh ha ha, that's funny; people voted for a wrestler for governor!" But no one organized the protest, and far too many people got in on the joke, and the entire state had to suffer through a term of his dunderheaded hamfisted rule until they wised up. Toward the end of his four-year reign, Ventura considered resignation so that his lieutenant governor, one Mae Schunk, could serve for a while, showing just how seriously the onetime member of the Mongols motorcycle club took his position. Next election, there were no gag candidates to be seen on the ballot, and order was restored.

I hope the good citizens of Earthworm WI are satisfied with a mayor who isn't old enough to drink with Jesse Ventura or join the police force, even if he does wear a bolo tie. Elections are serious business. Don't throw your vote away on some goofball, and be sure to call your doctor in case of an election lasting over four hours.

Voices Carry 'til Tuesday

When you were a kid, did your mom frequently have to remind you to "use your indoor voice"? Mine did not, but only because I tended not to come indoors unless the weather turned terribly inclement, and even then I enjoyed the out-of-doors from behind the door of my shed.

But at length I became accustomed to the ways of civilized living, in the fashion of The Wild Men of Borneo. And now that I spend that third of my day that I don't spend sleeping or reading in an office, I have come to comment on an odd way that some people choose to behave in an office setting.

And that is, they bellow and caterwaul and scream and bawl and roar and, sometimes, they yelp. They yak and yammer and ululate, howl and whoop. Now, I know that from time to time we all raise our voices in song, or protest, or exultation. (The appearance of Adam Lambert on a tv screen might bring on all three of these, and more.)

But if you work in an office, unless it's the office of a one-person lighthouse, you probably have encountered Mr or Ms Loudtalker. I know you've eaten dinner with them from time to time, not necessarily at the same table, but at the same diner. There just seems to be a law that people who feel the whole world is hanging on to hear their next anecdote about the time Aunt Charlene dropped the jello mold at Thanksgiving and how Duke lapped it up, so they entertain the grateful masses in the dining area.

Maybe that's why in all those old prison movies, there was a big sign that said "SILENCE" on the dining hall wall. No one wanted to hear crime stories as they spooned up their gruel.

Same at the office, but you will notice that in the office stories, instead of being the perpetrator of an offense, the loudspeaker is always the VICTIM of the offense, and will go on and on about how they work SO HARD for the benefit of SO MANY, only to be scorned and tossed aside like junk mail. Or they will tell how they give and give and give love to some unworthy mate, only to have horrid rejection tossed back at them.

And after all they've done for (him) (her) (them).

When I worked at 911, I would watch these Emergency Rescue 911 Squad shows on the tv, and was always interested to see that calltakers and dispatchers all over the country had their work areas pretty much looking like ours. It seemed like some sort of regulation to have each console outfitted with the remaining 1/8th of a roll of paper towels, a couple of map books, a drink in a Spil-Prufe container, and one of those "inspirational motivational" posters, usually showing a kitten in a tree with the slogan "Hang In There, Baby."

Workplace behavior is pretty much standardized. Would you like to see a system in which the Loudtalkers are traded like big-league outfielders? At least then, we'd all get to hear the story of Aunt Charlene's mold. And of Duke, who we all hope is a dog, and not her husband.

Horehound cough drops!

On the one hand, I am so grown up that I can but shake my graying head in bemused detachment as people heap scorn on the balding head of Oriole manager Dave Trembley. I hear them on these sports talk radio shows, and Ron From Perry Hall and Howie From Arbutus question Trembley's intelligence and baseball knowledge. Well, Ron and Howie, the chances are that Dave From Lake Placid might know a thing or two about how the game ought to be played. I dunno for sure, but when the Orioles were hiring a manager the last time, did anyone from the front office call 411 to get the listing for Ron From Perry Hall or Howie From Arbutus to offer one of them the top spot in the O's dugout?

And you could look it up, but I'm fairly certain there is a rule that says the manager has to stay on or near the bench, and is not allowed out on the field to throw pitches, swing a bat or field balls batted by the other team. RFPH and HFA might wish to direct a certain portion of their vitriol toward the people in orange and black who are being paid a whole bundle of semolians to pitch, hit and field that old baseball.

Advice for Mr Trembley: look into existentialism. You are only responsible for your own actions. Mr Millwood threw a ball that someone hit over the fence. Mr Tejada failed to field a ball that someone hit toward third base. The entire team scored two (2) runs total in two (2) games this past Sat and Sun. None of this is the manager's fault. But it must be fun to call a radio show and vent.

On the other hand, now that I have demonstrated the mature, reasoned approach that (almost) three-score years on this earth have given me, I throw some yang on my yin long enough to direct the curious to a website that is known as a free online dictionary of English pronunciation. I refer to it often to avoid those embarrassing mistakes of pronunciation - when you use a word such as ''demimonde,'' it's crucial to say it properly - and, yes, I like to click on words not normally used in polite company just to hear the disembodied mechanical voice say them for me. You know that the announcer had to record all these one day, and you wonder how many takes it took for him to get a good recording of how to say "poophead."

Go ahead and click on it. You know you want to!

If u can rd ths u can gt a gud job

As I was saying, I like long sentences, long words and a full expression of thought. For example, a lesser writer might possibly have come up with the idea to take a real-life story and write it in the style of a work of fiction, which is what Truman Capote did when he helped found the New Journalism with the publication of In Cold Blood in 1965. But a lesser writer would have written something like:

"Dry and flat, western Kansas has a lot of wheat farms and wheat farmers."

Whereas Capote captivates the reader with his opening paragraphs:

"THE village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call "out there." Some seventy miles east of the Colorado border, the countryside, with its hard blue skies and desert-clear air, has an atmosphere that is rather more Far West than Middle West. The local accent is barbed with a prairie twang, a ranch-hand nasalness, and the men, many of them, wear narrow frontier trousers, Stetsons, and high-heeled boots with pointed toes. The land is flat, and the views are awesomely extensive; horses, herds of cattle, a white cluster of grain elevators rising as gracefully as Greek temples are visible long before a traveler reaches them.

Holcomb, too, can be seen from great distances. Not that there is much to see--simply an aimless congregation of buildings divided in the center by the main-line tracks of the Santa Fe Railroad, a haphazard hamlet bounded on the south by a brown stretch of the Arkansas (pronounced "Ar-kan-sas") River, on the north by a highway, Route 50, and on the east and west by prairie lands and wheat fields. After rain, or when snowfalls thaw, the streets, unnamed, unshaded, unpaved, turn from the thickest dust into the direst mud. At one end of the town stands a stark old stucco structure, the roof of which supports an electric sign--DANCE--but the dancing has ceased and the advertisement has been dark for several years. Nearby is another building with an irrelevant sign, this one in flaking gold on a dirty window--HOLCOMB BANK. The bank closed in 1933, and its former counting rooms have been converted into apartments. It is one of the town's two "apartment houses," the second being a ramshackle mansion known, because a good part of the local school's faculty lives there, as the Teacherage. But the majority of Holcomb's homes are one-story frame affairs, with front porches.

Down by the depot, the postmistress, a gaunt woman who wears a rawhide jacket and denims and cowboy boots, presides over a falling-apart post office. The depot itself, with its peeling sulphur-colored paint, is equally melancholy; the Chief, the Super-Chief, the El Capitan go by every day, but these celebrated expresses never pause there. No passenger trains do--only an occasional freight. Up on the highway, there are two filling stations, one of which doubles as a meagerly supplied grocery store, while the other does extra duty as a café--Hartman's Café, where Mrs. Hartman, the proprietress, dispenses sandwiches, coffee, soft drinks, and 3.2 beer. (Holcomb, like all the rest of Kansas, is "dry.") "

Unbound by any constraint, Capote carved a career of florid and descriptive writing that will be enjoyed as long as there is paper or even a computer screen from which to read it.

Bound by constraint, no one can compose anything better than a bloated haiku in the consarned form of text messages. 160 characters! Tom Wolfe used that many characters just as an onomatopoetic background for many of his essays:

"Not bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, but bama bampa barama bam bammity bam bam bammity barampa FIRE! was the first thing she thought of because nobody ever banged on your apartment door in a building like this nobody would be so impolite as to even rap on your door with his knuckles unannounced in a building like this much less bang on it with both fists for this was not one fist pounding on the door but both fists bama barampa bam bam bammity barampa bam bam—"

That's from Wolfe's 2007 essay "The Pirate Pose," concerning the hedge fund manager culture. Vivid and descriptive, am I wrong?

I got off on this tangent because, sitting in the hospital yesterday waiting for nerve conductivity tests, I idly passed time erasing old text messages from my cell...and someone said life is not fulfilling and enriching? And then my thoughts turned to Lincoln. And what about if he were alive today? For one thing, he'd be very very old, and for another, he would not be traveling from DC to Gettysburg by train. He'd jet up there in Air Force One, so there would be no time to find an old envelope and scrawl:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.

And we would be a poorer nation for that, because Abe of Today would text:

"4 skor & 7 yrs ago our fathers brot 4th on this continent a new nation conceived in liberty & dedicated to the prop that all men r cre8ed =.Now we r engaged"


and that's 160 characters, and Abe would be out of space, and someone would think he was getting married again!

It's on the Best Cell-er List

I have a bizarre fascination with prison life, mainly centered on making sure I never have to live it. I'm reasonably certain that I would not be a model inmate, and so I don't want to be any sort of inmate at all. When those iron doors clang behind you, it must be the worst kind of feeling. Isn't that right, Kiefer?

A woman named Piper Kerman (can you not just picture her, having a Tom Collins after a tough tennis match with someone named Muffy?) got mixed up with drug lords as she left college, and worked with them as a money laundress. By the time the Feds caught up with her, she had already moved on past that career and had begun another. Perhaps she should have begun career #2 in some foreign land without an extradition treaty with the US, because she was easy to find in San Francisco, and went to the Iron Bar Hilton for a stay.

OK, it happens a lot. People go wrong for a variety of reasons, and she went off to the calaboose and did her time, and has now written a book about it all. Ah, another story of American redemption. But as I read the review of the book in "Entertainment Weekly," which is, I know, like looking for baseball standings in the Congressional Record, I see that while Ms Kerman was cooling her well-shod heels in the hoosegow, her grandmother died. That had to be tough, but as not tough as reading that she was "unable to penetrate the faceless bureaucracy to obtain a furlough."

Now. I have no children, but I do know that it's an ineffective punishment to send little Egbert or Ursula up to their room for two hours of reflective penitence, only to call them back down in fifteen minutes because there's a new episode of "iCarly" that they really ought to see. You do the crime, you do the time, as the expression goes. So, what kind of prison system is it that allows inmates to get out for a few days to attend the funeral of a relative? You're in prison. You did something bad. You are being deprived of your liberty to come and go as you see fit so that you can be taught a lesson. Sorry about your grandmother, and you could have gone to her funeral had you not committed felonies.

The review goes on to say that the horrible tedious humdrum life of a prisoner was occasionally broken for Ms Kerman when her fellow inmates made her prison cheesecake and prison enchiladas. Whatever happened to the old time prisons that we saw in movies with George Raft in them, where the silent prisoners walked through a cafeteria line and were given a ladle's worth of gruel, a piece of bread and coffee in a tin cup? And on nights when the gruel was not quite up to snuff, some con would stand and holler, "I ain't eatin' this slop" shortly before being bastinadoed by 127 guards.
I guess that in the modern slammer, an Inmate Grievance Committee would get text messages from some fish who thought the halibut not flaky enough tonight, and the coffee weak.

I guess this vignette hits a note with me because my father lost both his father and then later, his mother, while he was away fighting in World War II. And neither time was he allowed to come home to mourn.
I know it's comparing apples and baseball gloves, and it might surprise some to find me taking an illiberal stance, but prison furloughs don't appeal to someone wordy as I am, who is so fond of long sentences.

Lyric Theatre 4/11/10

Today in the Lyric Theatre we salute Billy Joe Shaver and his great song "Georgia on a Fast Train."

In other news, Billy Joe himself had a bit of a close shave this week, but in the end, Texas justice prevailed, and he was acquitted on that little ol' charge of shooting some other guy in a bar in Waco. Read the story though, so you can see how it is in the lives of people who bicker in bars, shoot at people, and then hope to become friends with the victim, following a trial which numbered Willie Nelson among the courtroom spectators.

You know how they say the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation? "They," in this case, means Thoreau, Henry David, and you have to figure that if he were around today he would probably have built his hut in Austin TX to get a foothold in the world of country ballad writing. Mr Shaver rejects that life of quiet desperation as well, preferring the loud report of a .22 in the palm of his hand to a more reasoned approach.

But he can write a song, I want to tell you. Lyrics to "Georgia on a Fast Train":


On a rainy Wednesday morning that's the day that I was born on
In that old sharecropper's one room country shack
They say my mammy left me, same day that she had me
Said she hit the road and never once looked back


And I just thought I'd mention, my Grandma's old age pension
Is the reason why I'm standing here today
I got all my country learning, living and a churning
Pickin' cotton, raisin' hell, and bailin' hay


I've been to Georgia on a fast train honey
I wasn't born no yesterday
Got a good Christian raisin' and an eighth grade education
Ain't no need in y'all a treatin' me this way


And now sweet Carolina, I don't guess I'll ever find
Another woman put together like you all
With your wiggle and your walkin', and your big city talkin'
Your brand new shiny Plymouth rag-top car


Yeah it's hurry up and wait, in this world of give and take
Seems like haste it makes for waste every time
And I pray to my soul, when you hear those ages roll
You better know I'm gonna get my share of mine

I've been to Georgia on a fast train honey
I wasn't born no yesterday
Got a good Christian raisin' and an eighth grade education
Ain't no need in y'all a treatin' me this way

So, just because someone seems backward and unsophisticated, there's no justification for picking on them. You never know who knows what!

I sure don't.

Smokin' in the Boys' Room

News Item:

DENVER -- An envoy from Qatar who authorities said grabbed a surreptitious smoke in a jetliner's bathroom and then joked about lighting his shoe on fire, sparking a bomb scare and the scrambling of military jets, has been released from custody.

No explosives were found on the Washington-to-Denver flight. Authorities speaking on condition of anonymity said they don't think the envoy was trying to hurt anyone during Wednesday's scare and he will not be criminally charged.

Brown Lloyd James, a law firm representing the Qatar embassy, said Thursday morning that the diplomat, Mohammed Al-Madadi, had been released by authorities after questioning and was on his way back to Washington. The firm said Al-Madadi is the embassy's third secretary.

Say, Moe...listen. There is nothing worse than forced humor, with the possible exception of sticking cloves in a ham. And from what I heard today, you are on the way back home to Qatar. Causing a big commotion on an American jet plane and making a joke about it is not what we want to laugh at.

What we want to laugh at is a new episode of "Modern Family," but there wasn't one this week. Maybe Moh figured he would step up and fill the void with his knee-cracking side-splitter about making it look like he was trying to set off a shoe bomb while sucking the nicotine out of a Marlboro in a jetliner restroom.

A few years ago, Moh was probably the guy hanging around the ticket line and pretending to see a friend across the way, hollering, "Hi, Jack!" I tell you, that's a surefire laugh-getter.

He's also the kind of guy who asks tall people,"How's the weather up there?" and asks bald guys to wear a hat to cut down on the glare and says "What can I do you for?" and "Are you working hard, or hardly working?" and need I go on? Many of us know this guy, many of us work with him, and in some cases, people we know are so unlucky as to sleep one pillow away from him.

Music is the universal language. Dumb jokes are the universal tool of the middling intellect. I imagine old Moh is getting big yuks back home today as he spins the tale of engendering fear and panic over the American midwest.

"Wrong number - I mean to dial 9 - 1 - 2 !"

Man oh man, did I have a great time the other day! After work, some of the old gang from when I worked at 911 was having a little meetup at the Firehouse Tavern over near our place. So many of the old gang have retired, and I would have joined them already, except for a mathematical error. The error was, I forgot to figure that if I wanted to retire in my 50's, I would have to start a 30-year career in my 20's, and of course, I spent the greater part of that decade playing Conway Twitty records on the radio, stocking grocery shelves with ginger ale, Vienna sausage and Fig Newtons, and taking part in scientific research exploring the amount of Budweiser® beer than could be poured down one's neck before one began singing Faron Young's "It's Four in the Morning" over and over at two in the morning.

As I sat in the tavern, belting back bottled water (!) my mind drifted back as we spun tale after tale. One of the greatest parts of swappin' yarns with these guys and gals is that no one has to make anything up or even exaggerate the facts of the stories. And no matter how many times we hear it, the tales of the people who thought there were real live (?) ghosts in the closet, or the women who called with abdominal cramps and denied being pregnant, only to have a baby's head present itself during the call, or the people who called at quarter til midnight just to see if 911 was "still open," the tales spin themselves, and we are caught up in the weave of the yarn.

But now as we unravel it all, there's more of a sense of pride in looking back over a career of accomplishment. All the hassles, the red tape, the blizzards and thunderstorms, the power outages, the petty rules ("no coats on the backs of chairs," "no non-work-related art work on the walls") seem to drift off with the other flotsam of life, and the important thing is the fellowship, the friendship, the stuff you can't get in any other way but through years and years of camaraderie.

Some of the gang are still working. Some of the retirees are taking it easy, some have taken other work, and some are doing different things altogether. One of the women and her wife have taken in a niece whose family life came unraveled a year or so ago, and after literally being on the streets for a year, this young lady has come to live with them. Are there issues; are there problems? You bet there are, and not easy ones, either. Helping a teenager reach adulthood prepared for life is challenging under the best conditions, and surely, dealing with someone who was tossed into the air to see where she would land is a parlous undertaking.

But you can bet I'm gonna bet on them to make it work out fine. The young lady is sweet and charming, and when one of the women helping to prepare her for adulthood is someone who dealt with three decades of fires, shootings, stabbings, lost children, parking complaints, traffic wrecks and life wrecks, you know that nothing is going to slow her down.

I spent an hour with people who have been part of my life for almost three decades. Of course, when I finished my bottle of water and headed home, people knew that it was because if I'm not with Peggy, I'm trying to be. Bless us all, old friends and new, and sweet, sweet love.

☮

The passing last Friday of Oriole great Mike Cuellar at 72 was a sad thing. He was one of the last links to the Oriole greatness of the past, being a member of the pitching rotation from 1971 that featured 4 twenty-game winners. Last year's Orioles featured 20 four-game winners, or so it seemed. And Mike Cuellar never seemed to get it in gear until the weather turned warm. A cold April and chilly May meant he did not pitch so well. "Cold weather's not good for baseball," he said. Perhaps this spring heat wave under which we are currently suffering I mean enjoying is a salute to him!

But do you remember what else was a biggggggg deal in 1971? The Peace Sign!
It was everywhere back in the early '70s and it's back all over the place with young people today - always a good sign...They wear it on scarves and bandannas, earrings and hats, t shirts and hoodies, and sox and sneakers. It's on bracelets and necklaces and will likely be seen as a Cheerio cereal flake any day now.

began life in 1958 as a symbol for the British nuclear non-proliferation movement. Depending on one's politics, it is either seen as the outline of a dove holding an olive branch in his beak, or the "footprint of the American chicken." I heard this one a lot from people who were in the United States singing "Love It or Leave It" during the Viet Nam war. I heard more of the first version from friends coming back from the Viet Nam war.

It might not arouse the same sentiments that it did back in the day, but it's nice to see the peace sign make a comeback. And if some of these people wearing it on their earlobes and wrists also start wearing it in their hearts, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all.

There was one?

"In these volatile times when we are a nation at war, now more than ever is when we need a commander-in-chief, not a constitutional law professor lecturing us from a lectern."

Sarah Barracuda Palin, March, 2010

One supposes that the former 1/2 governor, and noted geographer, is speaking of the former president in terms of being a strong military leader. The noted patriot and Air Force Reserve pilot George Bush. Yes.


But Jay Leno made a good point the other night, saying that America is the only country where you can insult someone by calling them a "teacher." What in blue blazes is wrong with being a constitutional law professor? It seems to me that we could use a few more people in this country - heck, in this state - who know something about the Constitution.

The first thing that anyone hollers when a law is passed that, they feel, impinges upon their right to follow their habitual pursuits, is, "It's unconstitutional!" (I also have heard, "it's inconstitutional," but no matter.)

I am not a constitutional expert by any means, but we certainly need them to help us stay on the right course around here. And should Mrs Palin someday be elected president, let us hope that she will name someone of Mr Obama's acuity and mental greatness as a constitutional adviser. The framers of that great document had the foresight and wisdom, over 200 years ago, to foresee so much, and the fact that this vital document is still the living law of the land pays testament to their vision.

You betcha they even saw the day when people would be entranced by a huntin' fishin' hockey mom, and pay attention to her shrill bleatings. And here she comes again, demonstrating her firm grasp on how our nation's laws work...When asked by ABC in July, 2009, why she felt she would not have to go through the same ethics investigations that wound up with her resigning as governor of the state of Alaska, she said:

"I think on a national level your Department of Law there in the White House would look at some of the things that we've been charged with and automatically throw them out."

Sarah, there ain't no "Department of Law" "there" in the White House. Ask any constitutional law professor.

Master's and Johnsons

You have to like the timing...along comes the Master's golf tournament in Augusta, GA, this week, just at the same time that Entertainment Weekly's cover made it official: Jesse James has now replaced Tiger Woods atop the pantheon of the most disliked, despised and loathed. Even as a veritable plethora (and really, all plethoras should be veritable) of women have piled on Tiger (!) seeking their fifteen minutes of fame and fifteen million dollars for shame, he has delivered several apologetic explanations that were short on detail but long on gulping horror. So golf begins anew and we still don't know if Mrs Tiger will return to the lair or not.

But as if to take the pressure off the golf king, Jesse James -Jesse Gregory James, b. 1969 in Lynnwood, CA -the town that also sent Weird Al Yankovic to a waiting world - saw fit to nudge Woods aside with a little wood of his own. Described in Infoplease.com as "the muscular, tattooed chief gearhead of the reality TV show Monster Garage," (and who wouldn't be honored with that appellation?), JJ also claims to be related to Jesse Woodson James (September 5, 1847 – April 3, 1882), described in Wikipedia as "an American outlaw, gang leader, bank and train robber, and murderer from the state of Missouri." Now that's someone to look up to and claim as kin! (Horrified descendant members of the James Gang have asked him for genealogical evidence, which has not been proffered.) Jesse James the outlaw was a Confederate soldier who freelanced his way before and after the war, robbing whomever he wished, killing likewise, and for some uniquely American reason he is on our list of people we suppose (in error) to have robbed from the rich and given to the poor - a sort of Robin Hood. They said the same thing of John Dillinger, "they" meaning people who were not shot to death by Dillinger. Jesse was more of a robbin' hoodlum.

The modern-day Jesse James has been a bodyguard for thrash-metal bands, a motorcycle designer and bodyguard, the husband of three women, most recently Sandra Bullock, and the star of such well-reviewed tv shows as "Jesse James is a Dead Man" on Spike TV, and "Motorcycle Mania" and "Monster Garage," on Discovery. Speaking of discoveries, JJ recently discovered the fascinating information that the American public takes it to heart when a beloved actress such as Ms Bullock goes on location to film a wonderful movie and then wins an Oscar® for the movie and shows up at all the Oscar hoopla® with her loving husband on her arm, only to find that the whole time she was down South making the movie, he and his arms were busy going South with his apparent estimable paramour, one Michelle "Bombshell" McGee.



At these crucial junctures of our lives, many of us find it comforting to turn to our lawyers. Jesse did. His mouthpiece is named Joe Yanny, and herewith his statement:

"Jesse is in love with Sandra. The single most important thing to Mr. James and the children is that the marriage somehow survive."

The attorney did not point out that most men who regard their marriage as the most important thing in their lives find it best to avoid entanglements with women known by the name "Bombshell."

James has released a statement saying he had used "poor judgment" and deserved "everything bad that is coming my way."

As of today, dispatches from the front claim that Ms Bullock is reportedly ready to file for divorce, Mr James has left the rehab clinic where he sought refuge from this storm, and it might be another year or two before he is invited to join the cast of "Dancing With The Stars" or its predecessor, "Meet The Press."

And all because he couldn't keep it zipped up.

You give me a quiz, I'm gonna answer it!

Who was the last person of the opposite sex you slept in a bed with?
This one is easy. Peggy!

Where was the last place you went out to eat?
Bonefish Grill and we loved it!

What was the last alcoholic beverage you consumed?
Beer. Cold, cold beer.

How many others have you cheated on?
Zero. I would turn red and stammer. Plus it's wrong, plus I still love Peggy with the same pure love since we met.

What is more essential - a pretty face or a great body?
I have neither so I guess I'm SOL.

What is the value of all the jewelry on you?
Watch, from the Timex Ironman collection: 65 semolians.
Reading glasses, from Dollar Tree.
Wedding ring, priceless.

Medicine, fine arts, or law?
I have been chased down by members of all three groups. Law enforcement drives cooler cars though.

When was the last time you got a good workout?
New Year's Eve, and then my sciatic nerve had the nerve to get all spasmodic.

Best kind of pizza?
From Gil's on Belair Rd, hon.

If you need a new pair of jeans, what store do you go first?
LL Bean

Where did your last hug take place?
Nitey-nite hug as Peggy drifted off last night.

What were you doing at 11:59 PM on Saturday night?
In bed, reading a LIFE Magazine from October 1946, wondering why I was up so late.

Are you a quitter?
Quit smoking 9/17/88.
Quit bragging about it 9/17/93.


Is your bedroom window open?
Just a little, it being April, so we can hear how everyone did when they installed their super-loud mufflers over the winter.

Can you speak another language?
Spanish.

How about put your legs behind your head?
Sure I could. I mean, I'd have to cut them off first, but I could.

What is in store for your future?
More happiness, lots of love, back surgery?

Who was the last band you saw live?
That bluegrass group at the St Johns Fall Festival.

When was the last time you went dancing while under the influence?
Dude. Dancing?

Do you take care of your friends while they're sick?
Certainly. I show up with tender thoughts and a slug of Pikesville Rye.

What is your favorite soda?
Quit soda in '05. Not bragging about it though.

How many songs are on your iTunes?
"1802 songs, 3.9 days, 9.54 gb." I should really sit around for 3.9 days and listen to them all!

When was the last time you purchased something over $500?
This very computer, I guess.

Have you been through driver's ed yet?
Yes, and it has been through me.

What will you be next school year?
Still out of it.

Who is your favorite person to have a serious conversation with?
Peggy. Always.

Where was the last place you drove to?
Home from SFW (they say it means Shoppers' Food Warehouse, but I think it means something else!)

Nickname?
Mister Mark, Marky Mark, Mark E. Mark

Are you experienced?
Jimi Hendrix asked that in 1967. No, I'm not.

Any historical figures that you envy?
Elvis A. Presley

Describe what you're wearing in detail?
1/4 sox, green shorts, ratty old t-shirt, ratty old hoodie.

What brand of digital camera do you own?
Canon.

What do you think about people who party a lot?
It's their business (sometimes, literally!)

Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?
Not at all. I worked at 911 for 18.5 years and there were two topics of discussion: sex, and food. I know intimate details about the reproductive systems that would make a gynecologist turn white.

What makes a perfect evening?
good dinner, movie or something to watch, reading a little, being with Peggy.

How often do you tan, if you do at all?
I avoid the sun and its imitators.

What was the last CD you purchased?
Tie between Nellie McKay "Normal as Blueberry Pie" and "Britney -The Singles Collection," which is, of course, a standard fixture in all American homes. Online I downloaded "Ernest Tubb Live, 1965."

Have you ever been offered a job?
Yes and have often accepted. Realizing that I wasn't going to be able to coast through life on my good looks was an early motivator.

What are two bands/singers that you will always love?
Elvis and Britney and Love w/ Arthur Lee. Sorry, I cannot leave any of them out.

Who was the last person you rode in a car with?
It was a police officer in a police car but we were going to lunch, not for pictures and prints!

What of the seven deadly sins are you guilty of?
Wrath not so much, greed I don't believe so, sloth meh, pride not to excess, I hope, lust not the wrong kind, envy not at all, and gluttony not terribly much..

Do you do homework in coffee shops?
Coffee shops make me jittery.

"Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough."

The title above is a quote from Garrison Keillor, and it's no secret that I regard him highly, because he thinks things like that and then says them.

I have spent a lot of time thinking and writing about gratitude because I don't think there's enough of it going around. I include myself on any list of people who ought to be doggone grateful for what they have.

But I'll tell you one thing that we all had and can never have again, and that is yesterday. Saturday, April 3, 2010 will never occur again, no matter how we wish and hope. We only have one chance to make a good day out of a day.

You may or may not be Christian, but I think that all members of all faiths can take hope in the resurrection spirit that comes with Eastertime. After a long deep wet winter, the grass is greener than ever, the blossoms are blossoming, the birds are singing show tunes beginning with a breakfast recital at 5 AM, the convertible tops are coming down and the shorts and t-shirts are out in full force everywhere you look.

I am not a huge fan of spring, leading, as it does, to the heat and humidity of summer here in the Drain Forest, but I can look at the buds on the maples and oaks and know that they will be pretty gold and yellow leaves in a few months.

So many good things happen in spring. Young people fall in love. Old people fall in love. Love falls in with people old and young. Baseball returns. Opening Day is this week.

I have a feeling this is going to be a good year. Will you join me in that? I'm grateful for your company. Meanwhile, let's enjoy every day together.

Lyric Theatre

Bob Dylan once said that Smokey Robinson was America's greatest living poet, and even though Allen Ginsberg lodged a foul, the point was made that the songwriters of today are the great lyric poets of yesterday.

And by today, of course, I mean most any song written since the silly 50's heyday of "Sh'Boom," How Much is that Doggie in the Window" and "Come on-a My House."

It's all about the lyrics to me. I might be alone in that. Generally, when Peggy likes a song, it has to do with the melody, the beat, the music. Peggy used to dance, until she married a guy who moves like the south end of a northbound horse. But that crazy fascinatin' rhythm is still in her heart.

For me, it's the lyrics. They can be clever, or poignant, or mournful, or gleeful. But they have to catch on with a part of my experience; they need to glint off one aspect of life.

But to prove a point, I hit shuffle on the old 'Pod and came up with this glinting gem, done by Tompall and the Glaser Brothers, and written by Tompall himself. This family trio did some great harmony backgrounds for such artists as Hank Snow, and released some singles and albums on their own, with limited success. One of the articles I once read about them said that Tompall Glaser had a "prickly" personality. Not a good trait for someone in a people-oriented business!

But check the lyrics to "Gone On the Other Hand"...and hear it on your computer!
http://video.aol.com/video-detail/tompall-and-the-glaser-bros-gone-on-the-other-handmpg/66991670

Someday I think I'll take up thinking
and try my best to understand
How she could be loving me forever
and leaving on the other hand

Last night I thought I'd see a movie
to help me get my thoughts in hand
I think what I saw was a western feature
or James Bond on the other hand

I placed a ring upon one finger
of her left hand
The one who said she'd stay forever
is gone on the other hand


But today the world looks brighter
I feel just like a brand new man
I love her no longer; I don't miss her
I'm lying on the other hand

She's gone I know I'm being foolish
I should act like a grown-up man
But things could get worse I could start crying
I do on the other hand

I placed a ring upon one finger
of her left hand
The one who said she'd stay forever
is gone on the other hand
The one who said she'd stay forever
is gone on the other hand

Those are some lyrics, my friend!

Spice of Life

At last count, my little purple iPod was host to around 1200 songs, and yet there are times when there's nothing I can find on there that I feel like hearing.


Cable TV was the big deal when we got 34 channels. Now we get just short of a gazillion. Comcast is doing away with the FOX Reality Channel, not be confused with their news channel, the FOX Unreal Channel. It's been replaced with a National Geographic channel, bringing the total of National Geographic channels to 108.


By the way, when former 1/2 Governor S. Palin caterwauls about the "lamestream" media and is so thoroughly lionized by FOX, does she think that FOX is some little cable news access channel out of Burnt Toast, Kentucky?


But back to my point. Breyer's used to have four flavors of ice cream: Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry, and Vanilla/Chocolate/Strawberry. Now the amount of their flavors even exceeds the amount of felony charges facing Gary Coleman.


Satellite Radio gives one the chance to listen to whatever kind of music they like, pinpointed with precision to "narrowcast" to very specific audiences. So, if your taste in entertainment runs to Slavic folk ballads or Welsh sea chanties, just punch up your station, put on the authentic getup and hum along.

There are said to be just as many positions of attaining connubial congress as there are days on Charlie Sheen's calendar.


Go to any major intersection in Suburbia, USA, and you will see four restaurants, at least. McDonald's used to sell burgers and fries and cherry pies. Now they hardly even mention that stuff in their ads for salads and lattes and Chicken McBistro sammies, although if you ask nicely enough, they'll probably fry a Big Mac for you, if anyone knows where that big tub of sauce is in the back room.


Author William Saroyan said this:
“In the time of your life, live - so that in that wondrous time you shall not add to the misery and sorrow of the world, but shall smile to the infinite variety and mystery of it.”


To which I only humbly add that while flicking through the channel changer of life, picking out where to dine at the fountain of wisdom, and letting the song in my head be chosen by random shuffle: I should try to keep an open mind. So should you, I guess, but that would be up to you. There are trillions of ways to have your mind set. There was a time when I thought I hated stewed tomatoes. Now mac and cheese seems naked without it. No need to change our minds just for the sake of so doing, but why not save room for a different thought sometime? Just for once?

(Note: Offer does not apply to political opinions, marital fidelity and loyalties to teams, three sacred bonds we all hold dear. Examples of celebrity indictments and priapism for entertainment purposes only. Penalty for changing your mind back again too soon. Member, FDIC)

Today's the Day!

Check the calendar. I just know that today will be the day that the people who have been behaving so abhorrently of late will stop, sit down, put down their misspelled signs of illogical, ill-informed protest and reveal that the whole thing has been an elaborate ruse, or hoax, a prank, a series of practical jokes both orchestrated and broadcast by a network whose motto (Fair and Balanced) is neither!

As a child, I used to see things going on in the adult world and say, Oh, he or she is not really going to do/say/believe that, is he or she?

As in, why is it OK for an intoxicated person who lives up the street to drive a car down the street?

Why would a church discourage people from attending just because they are of a different skin color, while downstairs in Sunday School, the kids are singing "Jesus Loves the Little Children"?

How come when a teacher is wrong about something, he can't just admit that he was wrong about something? Why go through this foolish "The teacher is always right even when he's wrong" charade?

We're not really going to commit troops to a ground war in Southeast Asia, are we?

But then I reached maturity and put aside the questions of youth. I gave up my long-held belief that Allen Funt was going to step out from behind some curtain and say it was a great big Candid Camera stunt. Today, I just know that these people who so foolishly question the birthplace, the loyalty, the patriotism and the very decency of the man who was elected president less than two years ago - without the use of hanging chads and friendly Supreme Court decisions - the people who have their knickers in a twist over the Federal version of the statewide healthcare plan put in place in Massachusetts by a Republican governor, the people who scream about Nazism and socialism and totalitarianism and can define none of those terms, cannot identify their county councilperson, state delegate, US Senator or member of Congress, the people who said nothing when President Bush spent billions and billions of dollars on a feckless foreign invasion designed to injure and wound who now scream bloody murder about a health plan to heal the injured and the wounded, the people who will kill medical providers in the name of life, the galoots who holler out on the floor of Congress as if they were in the cornfield on "Hee Haw," the conspiracy-finders, the obstructionists, the geographically challenged who see Russia from their living rooms: I just know that today is the day they're all going to say, "What? You thought we were serious with all that? Come on, buddy boy, we was just a funnin' with ya!"

I'll believe that til the day I die.