Ordering The Court part 2

I'm sure this happens to everyone who lives and works in the county seat wherever you live.  I was there the other day for a trial and it happened again; a guy and his wife asked for directions to the Circuit Court building.

In our system of justice, we have District Court, which is for non-jury cases such as minor thefts, assaults, check forgery, speeding and nepotism.  This is considered minor-league justice and is much less formal.  In fact, it can be downright entertaining to hear defense attorneys plead for mercy for their clients with such gems as these:

• "Your honor, my client freely admits that he did drink a glass of beer six hours before leaving the party, and when the officer saw him weaving on the road home, it was because he had swerved to avoid hitting a mother duck and her six ducklings as they waddled along home."
• "Your honor, it is the position of my client that he could not have been speeding along Cromwell Bridge Road at that time because he is well aware that there is usually a speed trap set up there in the afternoons.  Excuse me, your honor.  I meant to say, a 'traffic enforcement zone'."

• "Your honor, my client had every intention of purchasing the purse, and all the merchandise she had placed in it.  She had taken it out of the store to show it to her mother, who was waiting for her in the K-Mart parking lot. She wanted her mother to see the purse and the five blouses she had temporarily placed in there, so she wouldn't have to take a shopping cart out of the store, which she knows to be illegal.  She simply left the store to check with her mother, and was aghast at being stopped by the security officer."

This all reminds of the old Cheech and Chong bit in which the attorney whines, "Your honor, my client had FOUND those drugs, and was on his way to the police station to turn them in when he was apprehended."

Circuit Court is major-league, involving felonies, juries, and long terms away from friends and family for many felons, except those who already have friends and family in the big house.  That's where you'll see the TV news crews outside, all the camera people hanging around together and all the reporters checking their makeup, waiting for trials to end.  Then, they rush to interview the attorneys, who re-try the case there on the courthouse steps.

Not Melanie.

Speaking of the courthouse steps, it was twenty years ago last month that a local radio station convinced the powers that used to be to let them have a free lunchtime concert featuring "Alice Cooper."  Believing that Alice Cooper was a flaxen-haired woman in a chambray shirt and jeans, strumming a guitar and singing songs of people working on the railroad all the live-long day, the town fathers said go ahead with the concert.  They were stunned to see the crowd that showed up for the show, and even more put out when Alice himself took the stage to sing the mountain folk ballads that had made him so popular on the hootenanny circuit, songs such as "Under My Wheels," "Halo of Flies" and "No More Mr Nice Guy."  The band rolled in about 8 speakers, each the size of a small school bus, and the buildings were still shaking, days after the last sweet note of the encore medley of "Elected" and "School's Out" had faded into memory and oblivion. 


But, what happens a lot, that I started to tell you about, is that people who are on trial for the first time in their life - in this jurisdiction, at least - will approach bagel-toting local employees and ask for directions to this court or that.  So it was not unusual for a red pick-'em-up to roll up to me.  The driver, a young man who had dressed for the occasion in a fine white undershirt, asked me where the circuit court was and where he should park.  I pointed to the courthouse and told him he had a choice of three garages: one right here << and two over there>>.


Here's where it got interesting.  His wife stuck her big blond head in front of his and told me, reproachfully, that "another guy said Circuit Court was down that way!"  


I found myself having to defend my directions, and finally thought it best to keep it terse, so I simply replied, "So? He was wrong!"


Trust me!

Ordering the court

I've been in courtrooms plenty of times (only once as a defendant, and my plea for justice in the case of a cleverly-hidden "No Left Turn" sign is probably a landmark in American jurisprudence by now) and I have a pretty good idea of how things ought to be done.  In my professional life, I have testified in trials ranging from homicides to dog bites, and one thing is certain for me:  the people involved: the crooks and the cops, the evildoers and the lawbringers, and the witnesses who saw everything and the eyewitnesses whose eyes were taking a day off that day, all deserve fair treatment and honesty from the bench.

More and more, I came to see judges who seemed to wish they were on one of those Morning Zoo radio shows, with a sycophant or two making appreciative chortles, and a hapless participant in the hot seat serving as the comic foil. All across the country, judges have been criticized, censured and disciplined because they saw the bench as a stage from which to perform their standup act, while sitting down.  Holding a witness up to ridicule, criticizing the section of town that a person comes from, and grandstanding for the police and other lawyers in the room might give them something to share with the room later, but court ought to held with an air of dignity and probity.

It seems to me that a lot of this started with the popularity of Judge Judy, the shrill harridan who shrieks such witty remarks as "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining!"(whatever that means) to the stunned people before her.  Once she opened the gates, former judges from all points on the compass were flooding into TV studios, hiring a "bailiff," and swinging the gavel.  The way it worked for Judy and the others was, they would find people who had a bone to pick with someone.  Let's say you let your buddy Howie Doohan borrow your ride to run down and get pizzas for the Little League banquet, and on the way home, he backed your hoopty into a dumpster, causing $834.68 worth of damage.

Howie comes back to you, hands you the keys to the dented machine, and says, "How was I to know they put a dumpster right in the parking lot of Pizza City? I'd complain, if I were you!"

And then he tells you he doesn't have insurance.  Here are your choices:

a) pay for it yourself
b) smite him zestfully around the head and face with a softball bat
c) go on Judge Judy.

Judge Judy and the rest of those shows are always looking for flamboyant, verbose people with grievances against former friends, lovers, coworkers, whatever.  The deal is, you both get paid a "talent" fee for being on the show, and everyone goes home happy, except for the poor sound guy who has to try to control the mic output of Judy's voice.  The people on the show are just doing what they would have done in a real court, but with more theatrical value.

There is a fairly new show that caught my eye one day; it's called "America's Court with Judge Ross."  The gimmick on this show is, they don't even make a pretense of it being real.  They hire actors, and the thing is taped in Hollywood, so there's no shortage of men and women willing to play the part of Roommate Who Got Burned On The Rent Two Months In A Row. or Husband Who Caught His Wife Cheating With the Domino's Guy.  At the very end of the show, there is a split-second flash of info on the screen that says that "all characters displayed are fictional and any resemblance to actual persons is coincidental."

So, when watching judge shows on TV, and heaven knows they are popular all afternoon, we now have a choice between real reality and fake reality.  Let us pray for wisdom enough to know the difference.

Police Lion: Do Not Cross

Hanna, right. Guy who looks like Ned Beatty, left.

Question:  What's worse than looking outside your house on a stormy day and seeing Jim Cantore standing there with a camera crew?

Answer: Living near a wildlife preserve and seeing Jungle Jack Hanna standing around holding a press conference.

So, the press conference might not have come as too much of a shock to the residents of Zanesville, Ohio, who are not sound sleepers to begin with, what with Terry Thompson's Home For Dozens of Lions and Tigers and Bears.  

Oh my.

Here's the story:

This Thompson fellow had a farm, but on this farm no one went "Ee-I-Ee-I-O."  They went "growl" and "roar" and "chomp."  He had over 50 animals - mountain lions, grizzly bears, monkeys, tigers, you know, the usual assortment of critters.  There were cheetahs, wolves, giraffes and camels.


Even a giraffe can be pretty tough to deal with.  I saw a guy get looged on at the Zoo once by a giraffe, and it was not all that funny, according to him.


And Thompson had the usual assortment of issues with the local officials, and people called in complaints about the treatment of the animals, and he went bankrupt a couple of years ago.  And the US Dept of Agriculture took away his animal license because he let people wrestle with one of his bears. 


So you see, this is not a stable American we are dealing with.  Or "were" dealing with, more accurately to say, because he had his Richard Cory moment on Tuesday night, shooting himself dead, after letting all the animals out of their cages AND removing the locks from the cage doors so they couldn't be caged up anymore. 


Well, you heard the rest of the story.  The animals left the farm like you'd expect they would. How are you gonna keep 'em down on the farm, after they've seen the farm?  Most of the animals ran off, although it was reported that several of them hailed cabs out on the main road. The local cops, animal control officers, veterinarians and who-all else came running after them.  Did you know that when you shoot a big cat with a tranquilizer dart, it takes eight minutes for the cat to go to sleepytown?  Well, it does, as they found out in Zanesville.  Do you have any idea how far a cheetah can run, and how many things he can do, in eight minutes?    Ask them in Zanesville.


As I am writing this, they are still out there roundin' up the herd, and one supposes that the survivors will be taken to the Columbus Zoo and forced to appear on tv talk shows with Mr Hanna. 


As I am writing this, no humans have been harmed.  But one guy was arrested for trying to steal the body of a dead tiger.

As I am writing this, Mr Thompson is still dead, and as sorry as I am for those who mourn him, I feel he took the chicken's way out, and I'm not lion.  Bear with me.  I didn't steal these jokes; that would make me a cheetah.


As I am writing this, I am wondering just what it takes to be the sort of person who captures animals who belong in the wild and forces them to live in Ohio. 

All in a spin

I like that "Modern Family" show on ABC, and believe it's the best sitcom on the air right now.  It's even funnier than that show with Howie Mandel - "Howie Met Your Mother" - which would be funnier if Howie showed up every once in a while.

And I think that Sarah Hyland, who plays space cadet daughter Haley Dunphy on "MF" is a very funny actress, but I have just decided that even if she pulls up into my driveway and offers to give me a ride to the Asian Buffet, I'd rather walk.  Ripped from the headlines: 

'Modern Family' Star Sarah Hyland Spins Out To Adele's 'Someone Like You'

Modern Family star Sarah Hyland and her boyfriend had a lucky escape last week after they lost control of their car while driving through a storm.

The young actress, 20, was accompanying her beau to an acting audition when their vehicle spun out of control on a Los Angeles freeway, and Hyland admits the scary incident left them "shaken up."

She tells Eonline.com, "It was so foggy you couldn't see 10 feet ahead of you. He (her boyfriend) had an audition and we were going through lines. He would have been focusing on remembering his lines (but) (Adele's song) 'Someone Like You' came on the radio, so we blasted it to sing along to it. And then we hit a water pocket...The wheels turned to the right and locked and then it spun.

"We were just really shaken up."

What I have always loved about showbiz kids is their total dedication to what they like to call their "craft."  Here's Sarah Hyland, riding along with her bf, in weather that calls for extra vigilance, and he's rehearsing his lines and they're blasting the radio to sing along with a lugubrious ballad, and suddenly they hit what they call a "water pocket," which I take to mean a "puddle."  Instead of, you know, paying attention to the road and all. And suddenly the wheels turned to the right, just like the volume control on the radio, and they spun out!

And I bet he kept doing his lines all along!

My free advice to Sarah Hyland - you're making plenty of money now.  Please hire a limo or call a cab if you two can't stop howling along with Adele instead of focusing on your driving!

My free advice to Adele - please sing like this.

Not that they will take my advice...

How I spent my October vacation

We went to Lancaster PA for a couple of days while on vacation last week, and if ever there was a tonic for the soul, it's that part of the world.  Lancaster (say "LANG-kister" if you want to fit in) is in the heart of the Pennsylvania Dutch country, and what fine people live there!

Instead of the usual sounds of gunfire and contumacious disputes that Baltimoreans have for the soundtrack of their lives, up there one hears the gentle klip-klop of horses and buggies rolling by.  Instead of the stank of air pollution, one smells farm smells - freshly mown hay, produce hauled to a roadside stand. And the locals and most of the visitors that we meet are only too glad to chat, offer directions, hints on good places to try, that sort of thing.

We wanted to try the smorgasbord that my friend Fran, the noted locksmith and food expert, recommended, so we headed off from our motel room to the town of East Earl.  And to get there, one leaves the town of Bird in Hand and drives through a town called Weavertown.  To a place with a 160' buffet line.

I would have walked, to tell you the truth, but we took the SUV.  Good thing we took my cell, because I had to crank up the GPS to find our way home.  For one thing, they don't just decide to cut a road through up there, and leave the farmers to deal with a property that looks like a pizza cut up in random fashion.  The roads follow the property lines of the farms, and the twists and turns can be trickier than following the logic in a Michelle Bachmann speech. So the female who speaks to me from GPS Headquarters, barking out the "turn here!" instructions like some sort of car boss, really had to stay on her toes, lest I miss the turn at Zeltenreich Rd off Musser School Rd.

And it was then that I figured out why it must be heavenly to live up there, a scant ninety minutes from crime-ridden Baltimore.  It's dark up there.  And there are no mercury vapor lights to dispel the Stygian darkness along those serpentine roads. And the people don't have to put up stadium-style banks of lights to light up their back yards, the better to see the invading hordes coming to plunder and pillage their sheds.

Big cities spend a fortune lighting up the night, to make it easier for the police to see the crime scene when they arrive.  Small towns have no need to, as Wynn Stewart sang years ago in a song called "The Tourist," live "where lights make night as bright as day, and day as bright as night."

There was a crime written up in the paper up there.  The one-man police department in one of the next towns over was now short one man, so they had to hire a temp.  The officer they had is suffering from being prone to temporary blackouts, so when he heard a call for a hit-and-run auto accident, he scooted right over, and the female in the victim car told him that it was he who had hit her and taken off.  They called in the State Police, and the officer allowed that if she were hit by a town police car, he must have been at fault, because there is only one town police car.

Why we don't all move up there tomorrow, I can't tell you.  She wasn't injured, no big deal, and the food at the Shady Maple Smorgasbord is something to write home about, so I did!

Captured on film

Please excuse the ad for Hungry Howie's, for the love of Pete, but I think this video is really worth seeing. It's the story of a man who was a tail gunner in a fighter plane in World War II.  The plane was shot down, but by a miracle, a navy ship was close by and rescued the crew of the airplane.  Aboard the ship was an officer who happened to be shooting a film that day and caught everything.  You'll see it all when you click on the video link above.

But it brings two things to mind.

One, these days there is video of just about everything. Malls, stores, street corners, all have cameras rolling.  Most of the time, when a crime occurs, police have a variety of surveillance videos to go through before getting hi-quality images of the evildoers.  If not that, why just about everyone is carrying a cell phone around that turns into a tiny video camera in a second, and when it starts raining beer or something, whoop! out come the phones, and the video is on YouTube in about ten minutes.  So, for that navy guy just happened to have the Bell & Howell film camera going that sunny wartime day, that was something, all right.

The other thing that comes to mind is, how come it took all these years for this film to come out.  I don't want to spoil the story for you; they tell you, when you watch, that the film was stored away, but I wonder why the naval officer did what he did.

Unless it was that when he got home, he was just sick of the images of war.  Yes. I think that was it.

Watch, and think of how it must have been to be there.

No happy ending for this story

Crime marches on, according to my local Patch: 
 Baltimore County police shut down an unlicensed massage parlor on Harford Road in Parkville Tuesday evening and arrested a New York woman inside the business charging her with prostitution, according to police spokeswoman Elise Armacost. 
Li Wang, 38, of Flushing, NY,  was arrested and charged with a violation of massage therapy law and two counts of prostitution, Armacost said. Wang is free on $5,000 bond.
Police executed search warrants at two locations, the massage parlor and an undisclosed address related to the business.  Police also found and seized what Armacost called a "sizable amount of cash."
The unlicensed massage parlor was operating on the second floor of a building at 8910 Harford Road.
"We expect more arrests to come out of this investigation," Armacost said.
"We know there have been concerns in the neighborhood about this establishment, and we’ve been anxious to take action against it," Armacost added.

Of course, all those who live in the throbbing Harford Road corridor have been for some time rubbed the wrong way by the presence of a massage parlor in their neighborhood. 

But here is some advice for those planning to open another Handjob Hilton: try a last name different from "Wang."  Believe it or not, the names of the people involved in a business have a lot to do with how long that business will be around! There was a driving school near there for a while, but no one wanted to send their kids to learn to drive at Rex Carr's School of Driving. Dr Butcher, the surgeon, did not fare well either in our town, and the Russian mani-pedi shop owned by Natasha Kutchahandov  was out of business in short order too.

Just a little free advice from the Bitter Bidness Bureau.

Saturday rerun: 3 things I heard today

1 - On an NFL weekend-preview radio show, referring to Denver QB Jay Cutler, "He's more athletic than people give him credit for." He is a quarterback in the National Football League, and even people who don't care for football would have to admit that it takes a certain athletic proficiency to lead the offense of any of its teams.

2 - Same show, "Make no mistake about it; the Cleveland Browns would love to beat the New York Giants this weekend." Hold the presses! A team wants to WIN its game. And they probably will, as long as they are more athletic than people give them credit for. It just depends on whether their guys truly come to play, and make sure to give it 110%. It's really a matter of scoring more than the other team.

3 - On the phone, the outgoing voice mail message of a fairly prominent local businessman: "Hi, this is uh "Hugh Janus" ; uh leave me aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa message and I will uh call you back."

Now. I've talked with the guy plenty, so he is not afflicted with any sort of speech problem. So now I wonder, it's either a) he was too busy to re-record his greeting or b) this was take 27, and the best he could do (although, again, I have spoken with him and seen him speak to a fairly large group, so it's not a speech problem) or c) he figured he's cool, mistakes and all.

The uh only people who are uh allowed to insert uh into their speech are the uh airline pilots.
Here's noted airline Captain Glenn Quagmire speaking to a plane full of freakin' fliers:

[over the plane's intercom] Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this is your captain Glenn Quagmire, uuuhhh we're lookin' bout a four and a half hour flight time today, uhhhhhhh got clear skies, good visibility. The temperature in Atlanta is sixty-four degrees, uhhhhhhhhhh the flight is gonna be a little longer than we've expected, uh we've got some very strong head winds, gigity. Uh, flight attendants, please prepare for takeoff.

I don't care

Here is brief list of things that I don't think about, in case you were planning to check:

• whether or not being a Mormon is Christian enough to suit conservative voters
• what two consenting adults do in the privacy of their home, parked vehicle or deep enough in the woods that no one has to see
• whether there is professional basketball
• the career of Russell Brand and his humor
• that chicken who pecked me on the knee when I was a kid.  Hey, Foghorn!  Your descendants were tasty!
• how much snow we get this winter
• what's on OWN, the Oprah Winfrey Network
• how awful the Orioles are. It's still major league baseball, and lots of towns would love to have a team.
• eating artificial cheese.  There is plenty of real cheese.
• Eric Cantor's belief that the Wall Street protestors are a "mob" pitting "Americans against Americans" when his teabaggin' friends do just that every second of every day - and the protesters don't!
• what Freud would think of everything.  I mean, sometimes a person can dream of running around the Washington Monument in a hot dog costume and falling into a deep hole without it meaning more than a pepperoni dream.
• all the news reports from "leading medical researchers" who say that drinking a couple of cups of coffee per day will shorten/lengthen/have no effect upon   your life
• the theory that approximate spelling is good enough
• who in hell Christian Bale is
• how it is that people can have a wedding WITHOUT the chicken dance
• how it is the people can have a chicken without the wedding dance

She must have been very mad

As Stewie would say..."here we go.........."

From NBC News:

ARBUTUS, Md. — Authorities in Maryland say two women threw bleach and another chemical on each other during a fight at a Walmart, prompting officials to evacuate the store for two hours and call in a hazardous materials team.

Fire officials say 19 people had to be taken to hospitals, although only one was thought to have serious injuries. That person was taken to the Wilmer Eye Institute with a potentially serious eye injury.

Fire officials were called to the store in the Baltimore suburb of Arbutus shortly before 11 a.m. Saturday.

Fire Department spokesman Glenn Blackwell says one person was arrested and charges are pending.

"This is obviously not the type of behavior we would expect from people at our stores. We apologize for any inconvenience this caused to our customers," Walmart officials said in a  statement.

This is the other end of the county from here,  but do you see what's going on?  Unwilling to rely on conventional weapons, this woman chose to wage chemical warfare on the new girl seen on the arm of her baby daddy, according to the police down there.  And not only did she toss bleach on her rival, she followed that with Pine-Sol, which contains ammonia, and every schoolkid knows, that's a combination that makes chlorine gas and other unpleasant reactions.

They had to evacuate the entire WalMart on a Saturday morning, causing moans to be heard from here to Bentonville, AR.

And then the bleach-bomber showed up at the police station, asking to take out a protective order to keep the victim from getting back at her!

Now I have to worry every time I go into a WalMart.  I can assure you, if you're looking for the guy who is stepping out with your baby momma, I am not the guy.  Among my manifold sins you will not find infidelity.

But there just might be those who would want to toss something unexpected on me in a huge megastore.  For their convenience, here is a list of things that I would accept as incoming liquid projectiles:

• Kozy Shack rice pudding is always nice.  Reminds me of diners.
• English Leather after shave.  It's all I ever use, after I shave.
• National Bohemian beer
• A homemade milkshake 
• Cole Slaw

So you see, there is no real need to toss hazardous chemicals at one another, when much more pleasant fluids can be flung. If you ever see much dashing out of a WalMart with bits of cole slaw trailing behind me, and smelling like I just shaved, please say hi! And I'll share the rice pudding.

There's only one per week

Not that I go in for filling my blog with cheesecake pictures, but the one above amuses me.  Today is Wednesday, and the picture is of Wednesday.  Wednesday Addams, the spooky little girl from the creepy, kooky Addams Family.  The character began in the pages of The New Yorker magazine, in cartoons such as the one to the left <<.

And then the cartoon became a tv show and several movies.

And Wednesday - what a cool name for a girl!  There was an actress named Tuesday Weld, but <<here's the queen of all Wednesdays, as played by Christina Ricci, who now plays a stewardess flight attendant in that "Pan Am" show. 



Happy Wednesday! 

Coming up tomorrow: Thursday!

Advice from someone 90 years of age

Got this online from a buddy, and it contained a lot of wisdom for me...hope you feel the same!

 

  
Written by a 90 Year Old.....

This is something we should all read at least once a week!!
  Make sure you read to the end!!!!!!

Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of the Plain     Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio ..

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life      taught me. 
It is the most requested column I've ever written.

My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what  their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath It calms the mind..

17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words :'In five years, will this matter?'

27. Always choose life..

28. Forgive everyone everything..

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

42. The best is yet to come...

43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

44. Yield.

45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

 

Busted

I am happily drinking up all the information to be learned from the PBS/Ken Burns documentary "Prohibition."

I would like to rewrite that first sentence as Hank Williams, Jr, would have put it:

Me and all my Rowdy Friends are happily Drinking UP all the Information to be Learned from Them Liberals at PBS and Ken Burns in that Documentary called "Prohibition."  This was NOT written by Some Publicist.

Back to live action: as always, Burns's film is interesting, well-told, and full of new nuggets.  Such as, didja know that at the height of the lawbreaking, when people came to realize that a handful of abstemious goofs had denied the entire nation their right to sip beer, wine, whisky, and even hard cider, the Boston Globe newspaper had a contest to come up with a new word to describe those who drank in spite of the law?  And two people had to split the prize (which should have been a basket of cheer) for coining the neologism "Scofflaw."  We still use this word today, usually to describe the actions of Bush's Enron contributors. 

And we use it to describe the actions of those motorists who choose to zoom right past a school bus which has stopped to pick up or discharge passengers.  They can't claim not to know the bus has stopped for this reason; it's a huge yellow vehicle with 87 blinding flashing lights, and just for good measure, an illuminated red octagonal STOP sign pops out on the driver's side.

Still, you'll see people stop and then drive past the bus.  Sometimes, you'll even see people sail right on through without so much as slowing down, as schoolkids scatter like duckpins.  This is unsafe and there are laws against it, and here in my county, the police are considering a crackdown.  Give the kids a "brake," if you will.

ON THE OTHER HAND, parents could give drivers a break by putting the kids on the consarned bus!  On many mornings, I am captive audience to a purely American tableau as a certain mother puts her child on the bus.  You could boil a three-minute egg using them as a timer.  She kneels down, gets right in the kid's kisser, and exhorts and inveighs and encourages and I don't know what-all else.  Just put the young 'un on the bus and get on with life, please.

And then, we also get to see the kids whose parents are so against them being exposed to any natural elements that they keep them in the SUV at the bus stop until the bus arrives.  Of course, they are amused by watching DVDs in the SUV, shows with "entertainment" by The Wiggles, a group of men paid huge salaries for singing silly songs.  Anyway, the kids get out of the SUV and saunter over to the school bus with the same plodding gait used by James Cagney on his way to the electric chair in "Angels With Dirty Faces."  I mean, one time I was listening to the Books On DVD version of "The Brothers Karamazov" (as read by Pauly Shore) and he got through two of the three Russian Monk chapters from Book VI while I waited for little Throckmorton and wee Bathsheba to hop on the ride to school.

Clearly, this is an issue that bears further discussion.

Sunday rerun: another of those quizzes

Is it ever too late to apologize? Why or why not?
Absolutely not. It's good for the soul, and one size fits all.

Do mistakes only harm your life? Or do they actually help? Why?
The only mistakes to regret were actions done out of malice. Honest efforts that fall short are still honest efforts.

Do you believe it is possible for someone to lose themselves?
Yes, and it's dangerous in certain sections of the city.

Honestly, does your mind focus on the past, present, or future?
I dwell in the past more than I ought to. It's because I don't know anything about the future, and I can't believe what's happening in the present.

When you say you don't really care, do you mean it?
I don't really care to answer this.

Is there anyone you can say you honestly hate?
"Hate" is a very strong word. "Like to see them boxed up, covered with syrup and dropped off on an anthill" is so much nicer.


Name a moment you felt you couldn't go on with your life.
Never had one and I don't think I will until the day when the Great Umpire calls me out at the plate. So to speak.

Have you ever felt you've fallen in depression?
Only when reading about the Great Depression.

All men are the same, all women are the same. Agree or disagree, why?
All generalities are ridiculous.

Honestly, have you ever purposely taken something or someone for granted?
I always took the leader of the Union Army for Grant.

Would you rather have a true best friend or a boyfriend/husband, why?
I've got them both all in one sweet person!

Would you date someone who had different religious beliefs than you?
People who spend a lot of time around me soon become deeply fervent in their prayers.

Honestly, have you built up your walls from the world yet?
I spend my life knocking down walls.

Your past experiences, did they just hurt you or help you?
"What's past is prologue" - William Shakespeare

Is there anyone you can say really understands you?
Just Peggy. Everyone else is stymied.

Before you love anyone else, love yourself. Agree or disagree?
It's The Greatest Love of All!


Do you believe everyone eventually ends up harming you?
Absolutely not!

Do you always talk your mind or keep your words inside?
I always erase any doubt that anyone anywhere wonders how I feel about anything.

Quick, randomly tell me a quote!
"Don't go away mad, just go away"

Do you think it's possible to be 'different'?
You're asking ME this?

Have you ever walked in the rain while crying?
Yes, but I let a smile be my umbrella.

What has you feeling the way you feel now?
I'm hungry; dinner was 12 hours ago.

Are you a believer in karma?
People who don't believe in karma now will later wish that they had.


Is there anything you want to say to someone? Or has it all been said?
Yes. You know the popular expression, "You do the math!" (denoting that something adds up, with just a moment of reflection)? I want to start saying, "You do the English!" I'll let you know how that goes.

Tell me a promise you've promised to yourself:
Lose weight, get in shape.

Was the person you last texted single?
Yes

Do you get jealous easily?
Oh no. I would hate to think so. I think jealousy is the worst form of human emotion, even worse than that Jesse James.


Who were the last people you saw besides from family?
My work family.

Which of your friends lives closest to you?
Sam and Nancy, right next door.

How do you feel about Diet Dr Pepper?
I'm glad he went on a diet, for his sake and for Mrs Pepper too.


Do you go to the tanning bed on a regular basis?
If God wanted me tan, he'd have named me George Hamilton.

Does your bedroom need cleaning?
It's neat as a pin at all times.

Flowers or chocolate?
Neither, really.

Pretty Woman or Sixteen Candles?
Hint: Long Duk Dong!

Sushi of choice?
Sushi Q!

Do you ever hang out with someone of the opposite sex?
Yes.

Are you comfortable with your height?
Yeah, the view is great from up here.

Anything on your walls?
den walls: Oriole/Ravens memorabilia, old photos, shadow box.

What do you bite more, your tongue, lip, or cheek?
I tend to gnaw on my tongue while sleeping.

What is the last non-alcoholic beverage you had?
Iced tea


Do you have a box where you keep all your important things?
I think there are like 150 of them


Most memorable thing that's happened to you over the summer?
It hasn't even started yet. I'd say the merciless, relentless, searing heat, wilting even the strongest among us, is something I can't forget.

Are any of your friends taller than you?
No. At 6'5" I tower over most people. I know if you clean the top of your refrigerator.

Ever liked someone whose name started with a B?
Bea Benadaret, Bob Brady and the Con Chords, Bobb B. Soxx and the Blue Jeans, Bebe Neuwirth.

Have you ever been on a motorcycle?
Yes, back in the restless days.

Where was the last place you were when you got sick?
It's always at home. Hmmmmm.

Saturday Rerun: Joe Gould's Secret

Stick with me on this one, please.  This story is quite a bit odd, and totally true.

The old man loved the seafood

There was a man by the name of Joseph Mitchell (1908 - 1996) who came from prosperous farm people in North Carolina, a state that in about ten months should be seeing a boom in baby boys named Earl, and little girls called Earlene. But that has nothing to do with Mitchell, who came to New York in the early 1930s and worked for a time as a newspaper reporter in those golden days of newspaper reporters.  He moved on to The New Yorker magazine, where he became a chronicler in long form of the city's offbeat characters.  When that old TV show said there were ten million stories in the Naked City, they surely knew what they were talking about.

Mitchell wrote about the denizens of the docks, the bars where longshoremen congregated, the seafood restaurants and the seafood.  He loved seafood so much that he called himself a seafoodetarian ("When I get through tearing a lobster apart, or one of those tender West Coast octopuses, I feel like I had a drink from the fountain of youth."). Such a way with words had Mitchell that he found plenty to write about in the history of bars, such as McSorley's Saloon, and people who hung around in bars, such as Joe Gould.

Joseph Ferdinand Gould (1889 - 1957) was a Boston-born, Harvard-educated man of, again, prosperous parents, but whereas Mitchell earned a nice living writing about the pre-beatnik bohemians and free spirits of the waterfront, Gould found it less profitable to be one of those spirits.  Having himself worked as a newspaper reporter for a time, Gould hit upon a great idea: to write the longest book ever written, and so he told everyone that he had begun to compile An Oral History Of Our Time.  Oh, what a book it was going to be. Gould claimed that he was interviewing scholars, journalists, eyewitnesses and people who knew something about anything and writing this epic tome.  For years it was all he could talk about, and he did so with such a sense of self-promotion that Mitchell began writing about Gould writing a book. (Later, someone wrote a movie script about Mitchell writing about Gould writing a book, and here I am writing about someone writing a movie script about Mitchell writing about Gould writing a book.  You see what happens when you let this stuff get started?

Gould was not Mitchell's only subject, but he did figure prominently in Mitchell's life, occasionally cadging dinner, a drink or a night's sleep on the office sofa.  He kept writing until 1964, when he published Joe Gould's Secret, and the secret was that there was no book.  All the "manuscripts" that Gould had left buried here and there were blank pages or old scrap paper.  Gould was dead by then, but something else died too: Mitchell's ability to write.

From 1964 until 1996, Mitchell continued to report to work at the New Yorker every single day, and never wrote another word.  Those who know about the magazine's bizarre business model in those days were not surprised to look up toward the end of the man's life and realize that hey, it's been years, he goes into that office every day and does who-knows-what, and then writes nothing.  Roger Angell, a great writer and editor at The New Yorker, wrote these words after Mitchell passed away in 1996: "Each morning, he stepped out of the elevator with a preoccupied air, nodded wordlessly if you were just coming down the hall, and closed himself in his office. He emerged at lunchtime, always wearing his natty brown fedora (in summer, a straw one) and a tan raincoat; an hour and a half later, he reversed the process, again closing the door. Not much typing was heard from within, and people who called on Joe reported that his desktop was empty of everything but paper and pencils. When the end of the day came, he went home. Sometimes, in the evening elevator, I heard him emit a small sigh, but he never complained, never explained."

Mitchell himself, toward the end of his days, allowed as how he thinks his preoccupation with the Gould "book," and his dismay at being hoodwinked over it, led him to the 32-year case of writer's block that he suffered.  Mitchell was an intelligent man, fond of New York history and architecture, and conversant on many topics. But these sad words to a newspaper reporter four years before he died say so much about a life confused: "You pick someone so close that, in fact, you are writing about yourself. Talking to Joe Gould all those years he became me in a way, if you see what I mean."

Robert Frost wrote this in "The Road Not Taken:"  

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both  And be one traveller, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth..."

I love Mitchell's writing - books of his pre-1964 essays are available - and he had a marvelous way with our language.  I wish he had written more, but perhaps he followed the path to which life led him.I think about all those lonesome days in the office, and I wonder how that must have felt, to be on such a lonesome path.

Those who forget history are doomed to repeat 11th grade

ON Sunday, The Simpsons was all about Superintendent Chalmers shaming Principal Skinner by getting Bart to develop an interest in learning about Teddy Roosevelt.  And if you know anything about The Simpsons, you know what a feat that was.  

Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt, namesake of the Teddy Bear, giver of football, first to say "Speak softly and carry a big stick," an outdoorsman, naturalist, historian, explorer, first police commissioner of New York City (look for his picture on Tom Selleck's office wall in "Blue Bloods") and a man who was shot in 1914 as he began making a speech in Milwaukee, always a tough town.  Shot in the chest!  And he still kept talking for ninety minutes!

(I hope that the local news anchor who referred to Sen. Edward Kennedy, on the night of that wonderful man's passage into heaven, as "Theodore" Kennedy, was watching The Simpsons the other night. He might have learned something.)

Czolgosz

I was disappointed that the cartoon didn't mention Leon Czolgosz.  Czolgosz, known in every schoolbook as "crazed anarchist Leon Czolgosz," assassinated President William McKinley in Buffalo in 1901, and that is how Spanish-American war hero Teddy became el presidente.  Czolgosz, having shot the president on September 6, was granted a speedy trial and given three 1800-volt jolts on October 29, which ended his days on earth rather suddenly.

Twenty years prior to the McKinley slaying, President James Garfield was shot to death by the assassin known in every schoolbook as "disappointed office seeker Charles J. Guiteau."  Guiteau shot Garfield in the DC train station in July of 1881. Mortally wounded, Garfield nevertheless lived for 80 days, succumbing to his wound eighty days later, and Guiteau was put to death in June of 1882, following a slam-dunk trial that saw him sing to the jury, publish his autobiography - with an appeal for a "nice Christian lady under thirty" - in a newspaper. He even admitted to choosing the murder weapon based on finding a gun that would look in a museum.   


You can't really believe it when people say history isn't interesting!

A good dressing down

At a legal function the other day, I saw a young family in attendance. The father was wearing an oxford dress shirt and blue jeans, with the tails of the shirt rakishly blowing in the breeze, had there been one.  

I, good old hidebound traditionalist that I am, raised an eyebrow in opprobrium. I don't think that dressing as if one is heading out to sweep out the garage is the proper mode of apparel for interacting with the justice system. 

This is hardly the first time I have been reducing to headshaking this way.  Not that many years ago, I had to wonder about a guy who showed up in District Court on theft charges, and thought it would set a nice tone for the trial by going through his extensive t-shirt wardrobe and choosing one with the slogan "Don't wait up for the shrimp boats; I'm coming home with the crabs" neatly emblazoned on it.

And just two days ago at the grocery store, I encountered a woman who betrayed no sense of irony while wearing a t-shirt that read "You know your from Kentucky when..."

It was over thirty years ago that my very foundation was rocked by seeing a guy show up for a wedding wearing a flannel shirt.  And these days, if you get married anywhere between April and November, count on seeing guests who look like they just got dropped off on their way home from the beach.  

My point is that it shows a certain amount of respect for the law, for the church, for the deceased and for the other guests to wear a tie and jacket or dressy clothes to court, preaching, funerals and weddings.  Shirttails a-flappin' are perfectly fine for casual events such as going to the mall or unloading freight trucks. Legal and solemn events are not casual, and we undermine our dignity by treating them as if they were.

Yes, I'm old fashioned, but it feels nice to know that I cared enough to leave the bib overalls home for a day. 

He's so doltish, I could cry

"I hear America singing," said Walt Whitman,"the varied carols I hear..."  The great thing about this country is that we are all part of a huge chorus, and we can sing any carol we want to.  

Well, sir, that also means that we believe in free speech.  So I have absolutely no issue with what Hank Williams Jr said the other day, stupidly comparing our noble president with the Worst Person Who Ever Lived, A. Hitler.  And I don't blame his lack of formal education for his math problems, as in calling Messrs. Obama and Biden "The Three (sic) Stooges."  
 
It looks like old Hank got his drawers in a wad over the president playing golf with John Boehner, but I don't know.  Last time I checked, the president is free to golf with whom he desires, and that's why no one should have been all teed off about it. The man who calls himself 'Bocephus' was busy making a bocephus of himself the other morning on the FOX news.  Even the people on that channel were sort of shaking their heads at him.


It must be tough, being the famous son of a famous man, and having about 1/10th the talent.  For what it's worth, even though Junior here did not excel in writing country songs and singing them, he was at least smart enough to get songs written by others and sing them acceptably.  And he was among the first to do a country-rock fusion sort of music.  But his daddy used to end his radio shows, promising to be back next time "if the Good Lord's willin' and the creek don't rise."  Hank Sr saw no need to muddy the waters by exercising his free speech jaw muscles.


For the record, yes, absolutely, HW Jr has the total right to speak his mind.  Also, for the record, ESPN has the total right to speak their minds and tie a can to him.  I know I have quoted my sainted father in this space a thousand times, but here's another one he brought home from the WWII Navy (along with a flashlight that still works and a Japanese mess kit): "They can't make you do it, but they can make you wish you had."  The concept of prior restraint means that no one is about to tell the son of the greatest country songwriter that he can't open up his gaping maw and let the dumb flow out.  


But now that he's crawling, don't you think he wishes he had just stfu'ed the other morning?


Here is his latest epistle to the masses, right off his website:

Thanks To My Supporters

“I have always been very passionate about Politics and Sports and this time it got the Best or Worst of me. The thought of the Leaders of both Parties Jukin and High Fiven on a Golf course, while so many Families are Struggling to get by simply made me Boil over and make a Dumb statement and I am very Sorry if it Offended anyone. I would like to Thank all my supporters. This was Not written by some Publicist.”  -- Hank Williams Jr 

Hank, we were pretty sure that it wasn't...

Stay Home!

I'm no world traveler.  I can hardly be considered a United States traveler, but it's just not my thing to traipse off to distant lands just to unpack my suitcase and load it up with tiny samples of shower gel, shampoo and mouthwash.

Although I do treasure the shower cap we got in Williamsburg, because it came in a little box that said, in that bilingual manner we have all come to love: SHOWER CAP / CHAPEAU DE DOUCHE

Anyway, here is what I don't get, to tell you the truth.  I am writing this on Monday morning, a few hours before the Amanda Knox verdict is to come in.  I don't know whether or not she is guilty as sin or innocent as an angel.  It does seem apparent that she went to Italy to study and got involved with some people who are into some pretty weird stuff.  I mean, just to read that Amanda and her boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito were smoking hashish and reading his collection of sexually explicit comic books makes this sound like a bad 60's movie.  By the time this blog gets blogulated, I guess we'll all know what the Italian court has decided for Amanda.

And then we have the three young Americans who decided to go hiking in Iran, and wandered over the border into Iraq.  Bad idea.  After a couple of years in the friendly confinement of an Iraqi jail, they are home and free, but really, was it worth it?

If you just absolutely must travel to foreign countries, take it from one who hasn't: don't get involved with weirdos and their sex games, and don't go hiking within 100 miles of any border of any country where the people just can't stand Americans!  There are plenty of local American weirdos to get involved with right here, just a phone call away. 

No, I do not have that number. 

A Bang for no buck

From our "What could possibly be wrong about this idea?" file, here's a story from the Frederick MD News-Post.

City ponders empowering volunteers to patrol parks by Patti S. Borda

Frederick is prepared to arm volunteers with a weapon to get litterbugs and park scofflaws under control.

Aldermen agreed in theory with the concept of authorizing trained volunteers to pack mighty pens and write citations when people park on the grass, leave litter or fail to pick up their dog's feces.

"We're lacking any kind of enforcement in the parks," Alderwoman Shelley Aloi said. "This is an immediate solution to that problem."

Aldermen agreed with Roelkey Myers, deputy director of parks and recreation, that one outstanding volunteer has been doing noble work, but without much teeth behind her effort. Jolene Hart has been handing out informal citations, but they were little more than words of advice.

Hart, "one very, very dedicated volunteer," stepped forward to keep an eye on parks after two paid enforcement officers left and the city decided not to fill their jobs, Myers said.

Many errant park visitors reformed once they knew the rules, Myers said. Other offenders don't hesitate to park on grass a day later or let their unregistered canines use the dog park, he said.

"One of the biggest things ... is seeing vehicles parked on city land," Myers said.

Aldermen discussed how to grant the new authority to more than just Hart, who has gone through training as a member of the police department's auxiliary. Aldermen did not decide whether the police auxiliary should write citations.

Myers hopes to attract other volunteers to join Hart on the job. Myers said he would work with city staff to formalize the training and application process for future volunteers.

"I do not want to let bureaucracy get in the way of a good idea," Alderwoman Karen Young said.

As for liability concerns, all the duly appointed volunteers will be covered by the city's insurance policy, said Saundra Nickols, city attorney. Myers said they would not be expected to put themselves at risk in dangerous situations.

"They wouldn't be breaking up fights," Myers said.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Frederick is known as a pretty cool city these days.  It's on the road between Baltimore and Western Maryland.  They have a minor league baseball team, lots of up and coming techno-industry, and - the sure sign of a hipster haven - plenty of brewpubs and cafes. 

Mrs Fritchie

Back in the day, Frederick was known to elementary school kids as the destination of a field trip.  Everyone would pile onto school buses and go see the home of Barbara Fritchie, who, according to a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, stood in the street and waved a flag to try to stop Stonewall Jackson's troops during the Civil War.  The fact that she was home sick in bed as the rebels strutted through town, the fact that the Confederates didn't get within a half-mile of her house, and the likelihood that she was upstairs waving her hair, and not a flag, have never stood in the way of this stirring myth.   All fifth-graders who get to go on this field trip return home profoundly moved, usually because they saw their teacher sneaking a smoke behind the bus before they all went back home.  I know we did!

If you've ever known anyone who fell this thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis short on getting on the cops as a career and wound up doing security in polyester at a construction site or bingo hall, and yet still walked around like Barney Fife in blue, you have known the sort of person who craves authority and power, and finds them by being given a modicum thereof. 

So take some yahoo with a closet full of guns 'n' Four Roses, let him strap on a .40 and hang around the park, on the prowl for litterers, people who walk on the grass in defiance of Keep Off The Grass signs, people who bring beer to a picnic, or dare to enter the park after dusk. Am I the only one who thinks that Really Dirty Harry might see the need to fire off a round or two in order to bring peace, justice, law and order to the crime-ridden parks of Frederick?

I don't think this will turn out well.  And remember, I'm the guy who begged you not to go goose hunting with Dick Cheney.

Quiz time again!

How many people have you had REAL STRONG feelings for since highschool started?

178.

  

Are you easy to get along with?
I like to think so.  I don't ask for much out of life. (That sound you heard, like a muffled chortle?  Oh, that was Peggy.)

Would you hook up with the last person you texted?
I don't think he would be interested.

Do you have a best friend of the opposite sex?

99 44/100 of my friends are of the opposite sex, so yeah

Does it bother you when you text somebody and they take forever to respond?

Yes, I prize promptness

Where was your default picture taken?
At the gift shop at Cafe Hon the night we were reunited with the marvelous Ann Howell!

Can you play guitar hero?
I can play records, cassettes, MP3s and CDs

Do you smile a lot?

I cheese all the time, figuring, if you're not happy now, when do you plan to start?

Do you think age matters in relationships?
Yes because one of you has to be old enough to get the senior discount at Walgreens!

Have you ever been kissed on the cheek?
Yes, I tell people to kiss me there all the time!

Can you honestly say you're happy right now?
I'm always happy, even when I'm not

Have you ever dyed your hair?

I let mother nature do it for me

Is there anything stressing you out currently?
Oh, Stressing me out?  I thought you said stretching me out!

Do you need to talk to someone right now?
If I need to talk, try and stop me

What was your favorite grade?
'C' because I saw a lot of them


Do you think more about the past, present, or future?
The past.  I know more about it than I do about the future.

Is there anybody you wish you could be spending time with right now?

No matter where I am, I'd rather be with Peggy

Honestly, did you really love the last person you said I love you too?
I never lie, and I always mean it. I love almost everybody

Is anything wrong with your eyes?

I had two cataract surgeries and now I see better than I have since I was a little Opie-style kid.

If something was wrong, who is the first girl you would go to?
Uh, Peggy!

Who's thinking about you right now?

1979

Do you like thunderstorms?
Love 'em.  Enjoy seeing them arrive, love the lightning and thunder and the downpour, which is usually rain that we need.  Only downside is the damage they cause here and there.

How fast does your mood change?
Slow to anger, quick to cheer up

Are there things that can't be joked about with you?
I draw the line at sick humor about ineffable topics such as the challenged among us

Is there something that you want to tell someone but can't?

To think of even having such restraint is imponderable.  I say what I feel like saying all the time

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months or more?
38 years and going strong!

Do you crack your knuckles?

I crack knuckles and lousy jokes

What is the last non-alcoholic beverage you had?

Tea

Ever literally cried your heart out?
I never cry

Is there a difference between love and IN love?
Oh yeah!  It's the difference between watching a love story and living a love story

Would you kiss any of your friends?
A peck on the cheek will do

Do you have a ‘thing’ for some of your friends?
Yeah, and it's a joke.

Would you ever make out with someone of the same sex?

No.  Not that there's anything wrong with it!

What did you do for your last birthday?

Had a cool party here at the house

If you had $250,000, what would you do with it?
I would buy Sarah Palin a set of encyclopedias

Hey Now!

I’ve been doing this tribute to October 1 since the days of the Larry Sanders Show on Showtime.  Talk show host Larry had an unctuous sidekick named Hank Kingsley, who wrote a monthly three-dot journalism column called “Hank’s Thoughts” for his fan club’s newsletter.  Three-dot journalism is that Larry King sort of writing, where disjointed mental flotsam is joined by the use of…three dots…

Hank’s column started with the seemingly profound statement, “Well, it’s October.  And we all know what that means.”  

Here are Mark’s thoughts.

Well, it’s October, and we all know that means no more baseball in Boston.  We enjoyed seeing the Red Sox collapse this year! Nice to see Bill Buckner in the crowd for that final game down at Camden Yards…No truth to the rumor that 5 of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Men have found a great hideout: they got talk shows on OWN, the Oprah Winfrey Network, and no one has seen them since…One amusing part of becoming a sexagenarian is that the younger people at work would sooner give up their fedoras than call me by my first name.  They don’t want to call me “Mr” and yet they don’t want to call me “Mark” so they don’t even call me…Have you ever seen Seth “Family Guy” MacFarlane without that smirk ‘n’ smile?  Me neither…Research shows that only 10% of the populace can pronounce “edamame” and the other 90% of us salute you…In Toronto, a trial is going on involving a former physician who gave that career up to become a stalker of Shania Twain.  He has been ordered to keep 500 meters away from the singer.  Good thing I’m not a Canadian stalker; if they gave me that sentence, all I could say would be, “How far is 500 meters, Judge?”…My favorite Baskin-Robbins double-dipper: nutty coconut on the ground floor, with Pistachio Almond towering overhead…Clergymen from all over who have been all over spreading the gospel to those in need say it’s the best job ever! “You just can’t beat a missionary position,” beams one happy preacher…How about that rumor that says Preakness winner Shackleford is up for the lead in “The Prince Charles Story”, out soon from M-G-M? Don’t bet against him!…FLOTUS? She doesn’t even know us!  But how cool is it that Michelle Obama shops at Target.  Try to picture Laura Bush running down there to pick up some picture frames, tights, Fruit ‘N’ Nut mix and some coloring books for George…You can use shower gel for shampoo and shampoo for shower gel, but just forget about using shaving cream to brush your teeth…My pick of the new TV shows: Maria Bello in “Prime Suspect” and Zooey Deschanel in “New Girl.” Returning favorites include “I Make a Lying Ass of Myself Every Night on FOX,” starring the whimsical Bill O’Reilly, and “Let’s All Holler At Once,” with Barbara Walters, Whoopi Goldberg, Joy Behar, Sherri Shepherd, and Elizabeth Hasselbeck…James Dean died on 9/30/55.  He only lived long enough to see 23 Octobers.  Make yours a great one, won’t you?