On burgers, briefs, buffoons and bones

A few random thoughts:

I saw a story on the Internet this week clearly illustrating that some people have too much time on their hands and also are horribly misguided. A watchdog group called Corporate Accountability International is mounting a campaign to have Ronald McDonald removed as mascot of the fast-food chain bearing the same name, apparently because he is leading kids to potentially unhealthy fast food. Now, certainly, kids think Ronald is a pretty cool guy, and they're big on the Happy Meals, but Ronald isn't going to their houses and giving them rides to the Golden Arches. It's up to parents to decide whether their children get a Happy Meal or a Filet-O-Fish or a Big Mac and fries. We can only assume that Corporate Accountability International will be coming out in favor of the Hamburglar, with hopes that he will snatch cheeseburgers from the hands of children. What they should really do is just shut up.

When it comes to groceries, I'm very picky about what I buy. I'm not saying I only buy healthy foods, but that I make sure the junk that I'm putting into my body is top-quality junk. When it comes to clothes shopping, I'm not nearly so meticulous. Ask anyone who has seen how I dress. My inattention to detail proved to be a problem the other day. I was in the market for some underwear, so I went to the local store with the bull's-eye logo and checked out its offerings. I've always been a briefs guy, and when I spotted a six-pack of nice-looking, well-priced “sport briefs,” I tossed them in the cart. It was only when I got them home and tried on a pair that I noticed ... there's no hole in the front of these briefs. My underwear have always had holes in a useful place, so this has required a bit of an adjustment in my bathroom routine. The whole thing left me wondering, though. Do "sporty" people not go Number One all that often? And when they do go, do they maybe sit? Sorry. That's just how my twisted mind works.

No one does a better job of treating their viewers like drooling imbeciles than local TV newscasters. During prime time, they'll breathlessly run promos for their 11 o’clock news with teasers like this: “Is a serial killer stalking South Hills residents?” Then they'll come on at 11 and tell you that, no, it was a false alarm. I was actually just a raccoon going through people's trash cans. I exaggerate, but you get the drift. This next part is real. The other night, the irritatingly kooky Wendy Bell on WTAE was teasing an upcoming story about the Steelers’ preseason schedule. She said something about the Steelers facing “strange competition” next preseason and telling viewers to stay tuned to find out what “enemies” the black and gold would be facing. This really had me wondering. Would the Steelers perhaps be squaring off against the Colgate University lacrosse team? Canadian female curlers? The Bangladesh national badminton squad? Uh, no. Turns out they'll be playing a couple of teams they don’t normally play in the exhibition season. And what’s with this “enemies” stuff? Those preseason games are glorified practices. There's not enough anger or enmity in those so-called contests to fuel a go-cart. The real rage should come from season-ticket holders who have to pay top dollar for the right to attend those auditions for third-string tight ends.

Finally, let's talk about lunch meat. It never seemed odd to me when stores advertised “ham off the bone.” Real hams have a bone right down the middle, and one could easily imagine somebody carving lunch meat off of them. But last night on TV, I saw a Shop ’n Save ad touting turkey off the bone. Huh? Last time I checked, turkeys had lots of bones, and I couldn't think of one particular turkey bone that a butcher might be carving slices of lunch meat from. What's next? Bologna off the bone? Salami off the bone? Maybe head cheese off the bone? Just wondering.

Snow of the century

The recent snowstorm was, in many ways, a learning experience. We learned, once again, that it's foolish to trust TV weather forecasters, or, as I like to call them, the boys and girls who cry "wolf." Typically, they oversell the storms that are approaching, calling for six or eight inches when we end up with one or two. But in this case, they called for a lot of snow, and we got a LOT more than they predicted. We also learned that Allegheny Power is a pretty darned good utility company. At my house, we lost power about 10 p.m. Friday, and we didn't get it back until we got home from work Monday evening. At the time, when you're freezing your behind off INSIDE the house and have no water because the well pump runs on electricity, it seems like a ridiculously long time to be without power. But when you consider the magnitude of the job – more than 400,000 people without power just in Allegheny’s service area – you realize the great work they did, and you have to applaud the dedication of those who work for the utility company. As of today, Allegheny Power was still trying to restore service to about 30,000 people in Greene and Washington counties. I can feel the pain of those still waiting, because you really don't realize how much you depend on electricity, and how much you take it for granted, until it's not there. You're left huddling under mountains of covers in the dark, and it's not a pleasant experience. I personally learned that complacency is a very bad thing. I could have checked my generator on a warm September day, but I didn't. Heck, the power never goes out for more than a few hours at a time, right? And the generator will fire up without protest despite not running in ages, right? Wrong and wrong. When the generator doesn't work during a long power outage, that's not good. I know that now. Thanks to my Uncle Bill, one of those people who can truthfully be described as being so kind and generous that he would give you the shirt off his back, the generator is back in service. He went way beyond the call of duty. Which is another lesson. We need to be more thankful for family and friends who are there for us in tough times. I couldn't count on both hands the number of people who either lent us a hand or offered to take us into their homes. It was greatly appreciated. I also appreciated the work done by PennDOT and the local road crews. People like to gripe about PennDOT, but my trips to and from Washington were blessedly uneventful, thanks to their untiring efforts. I also gained more appreciation for my wife, who hung in there like a trouper and was everything you could hope for as a partner in a tough situation. Those city girls can be tougher than one might think. And I'm sure about one thing: From now on, when I flip a light switch, adjust the thermostat or turn on the faucet in the kitchen sink, in the back of my mind, I'll be telling myself not to take those things for granted.

Where have you gone, hefty PB cups?

In the 1942 movie “Kings Row,” a newly legless Ronald Reagan famously asks, "Where's the rest of me?" That was sort of the feeling I had today when I bought a two-pack of the Reese's dark chocolate peanut butter cups. The package was so light that I thought they might have to tie the candy bars to the rack so a light breeze doesn't blow them away. Folks of my generation have memories, which we're only too glad to share, about the days when a kid could take a dime into a store and come out with a Hershey bar and a Coke. And in those days, a Reese's peanut butter cup was a good-sized piece of candy. Maybe I'm overdoing it a bit, but it seems like a single Reese's cup from my youth weighed more than the two in the pack I bought today. Food producers are a pretty tricky bunch. We all remember how the coffee cans started shrinking so we paid the same price for less coffee. It's been the same deal with ice cream containers. And I even noticed that a package of hash browns, which used to weigh 2 pounds, now comes in at around 34.5 ounces. On the good side of food news, we are now able to buy "throwback" Pepsi and Mountain Dew, which means they are produced with real sugar rather than the corn syrup that has been used, as far as I can recall, since the 1980s. The difference in taste is remarkable. The bad news is that Pepsi says the "throwback" versions – also known as “Mexican,” because sodas in that country still are produced with real sugar – will be available for a "limited time only." Let's see if I have this right. Pepsi puts out a product that is clearly preferable to the one that had been available, and then plans to take it back off the market. In other words, they're screwing with us. It's like McDonald's and the McRib sandwich. I rarely eat at McDonald's, but I will stop by if I see that the McRib is making one of its occasional "limited-time-only" appearances. And then, just as quickly as the McRib reappears, it is gone again. Why do they do this?

In reality, dogs rule

This will probably come as no surprise, but a new Associated Press-Petside.com poll has found that more Americans like dogs than cats. Plenty of people like both, but the poll found 74 percent of respondents like dogs a lot, but just 41 percent like cats a lot. I've had dogs and cats since I was a young child, and while I've had some very lovable cats, I really don't find them a match for a good dog. The photo above shows my "baby" with his muddy paws on the coffee table that he chewed at every opportunity when he was a pup. I think Joseph Moreus, a California man interviewed for an AP story about the poll, summed it up pretty well when he said, “Cats are all about cats ... Cats don't care if they please you or not.” That's pretty much it. Cats do their own thing. Our current cat, when she's not fending off the retriever, spends most of her day sleeping under a piece of furniture in the living room. She doesn't care whether we humans go upstairs, downstairs or outside the house. Dogs, on the other hand, want to be where you are. They're sad when you go somewhere and happy as all heck when you come home. You want to play, they'll play. You want to hit the couch for a nap, they'll curl up next to you. You want to pee in the yard, they'll join you. OK, maybe that was a bad example, and don't try that family "whiz break" if you live in town. I should mention, for my own personal safety, that my wife does NOT join us for that particular group activity. But back to my central point, which is that it's hard not to love dogs. My dogs are happy when I'm happy, and comforting when I'm not. My life is better because of my dogs. And I think that's the best endorsement I can give.

An old-man rant

If you've heard this before (and if you're a longtime reader of this blog, you have), please bear with me. I'm going to climb back up on my soapbox to bemoan the drop-of-a-hat frequency with which school districts either order school delays or call off classes entirely. As early as Sunday night, school districts in Western Pennsylvania already were posting two-hour delays for Monday’s classes. By Monday morning, a lot of them were changing those delays to cancellations, apparently because of the inch of snow we received. I'm all for keeping our children safe, but has anyone calculated the amount of instruction time lost when all those two-hour delays are added up? At the risk of being labeled an angry old man (I am one), I have a tale to spin for those who grew up any time after the 1980s. Back in the dark ages, 30 or 40 years ago, kids went to school in the winter, waiting outside at bus stops, if necessary, unless there was a "real" snowfall. And by real, I mean something along the lines of five or six inches of snow. We had a lady who drove our school bus along the snowy ridges out back of Taylorstown and Claysville, and I'm guessing it never occurred to her to check the radio or television for a delay or cancellation when a couple of inches of snow fell from the sky. And if someone had suggested that school be delayed because it was COLD IN THE WINTER, they'd have been looked at as if they were nuts. But today, little Suzie and little Bobby can't possibly be expected to stand outside in cold weather, even if they'd just spend the weekend playing outside for even longer periods. When I was a youngster, I never once remember one of my classmates having to go for treatment at the nurse’s office for a case of frostbite after standing at a bus stop. And while I'm ranting about how soft we've become, I'd also like to discuss, and get your thoughts, on the goings-on at Texas Tech, where the coach was run out of town after it was found that he had made a player sit in a dark tool shed a couple of times. The player in question was Adam James, son of college football legend and current TV sports analyst Craig James. The facts in this case are about as solid as butterscotch pudding, but it seems that the younger James indicated to coaches that he thought he had suffered a concussion, so the response of Coach Mike Leach was to have him sequestered in a dark equipment shed. After complaints from James' famous daddy, Leach was gone. Perhaps the coach wasn't overly sensitive in shaming a possibly injured player in front of his teammates, but from most accounts, this wasn't an instance of a tough-as-nails, hard-working player being reprimanded for a singular incident. Sources say Adam James wasn't well-acquainted with the terms "dedication" and "work ethic." In fact, acting offensive coordinator Lincoln Riley, in an e-mail to university administrators, called James "unusually lazy and entitled." That's not surprising in this day and age, when outstanding athletes, especially those from prominent families, are coddled from an early age and told they're the greatest thing since sliced bread. Texas Tech fans weren't exactly lining up to support James. An Associated Press story about the Red Raiders' Alamo Bowl victory on Saturday night said that James was booed so loudly as he left the field at halftime that it drowned out the marching band that was on the field. And Leach isn't the only coach to lose his job for being less than charming. Kansas recently ran off football coach Mark Mangino, whose crime reportedly was being mean to his players. All of this makes me wish that players like Adam James and the ones who whined about Mangino could spend a couple of weeks with Bear Bryant. They'd last less than five minutes before running home to Mommy.

Season’s greetings

I want to wish a happy and blessed Christmas to all of my Christian friends, and to extend the same wishes to those who may be marking other holidays and observances during this time of the year. Underneath all of our beliefs, or lack thereof, we have the same basic hopes and dreams for those we love and care about, and for our world as a whole. May peace be with you, and may all of us have a wonderful 2010.

Say it ain't so, SpaghettiOs

There are some minor events in one's childhood that stand out while other, more important events are forgotten. It's been more than 40 years, but I can still recall my introduction to one of the greatest foods known to man: SpaghettiOs. And I'm still eating them (meatballs version only; don't even talk to me about sliced franks). But life as I know it is about to change, and not for the better. Campbell's Soup Co., the makers of this delectable treat (Even cats like it!), has announced that it will cut the amount of sodium in SpaghettiOs by as much as 35 percent. Said Sean Connolly, president of Campbell's U.S. soups, sauces and beverages division, "Changing the recipe of SpaghettiOs comes on the heels of reducing sodium in our condensed kids soups to healthy levels. It's also consistent with our commitment to advertise only sound food choices to children." Screw that. What about us big kids? Couldn't they make a "classic" version of SpaghettiOs for those of us who don't give a damn about our sodium intake and make a tasteless kids version? This is just another assault on traditional (bad-for-you) foods that we all knew and loved. Oreos and Twinkies are now just poor imitations or their original selves. I don't know what they did to Dinty Moore beef stew, but it isn't good. And don't try to tell me that McDonald's fries are as good now as they were when Ronald was deep-frying his taters in beef tallow. I'm all for giving our kids healthy food, but the occasional can of SpaghettiOs isn't going to ruin them. Heck, I ate a boatload of SpaghettiOs when I was a kid, and I was skinny as a rail back then. It wasn't until I made beer the base of my own personal food pyramid that I climbed aboard the train to Fatville. So, in the name of all that is decent, good and holy, I beg of you Campbell's, leave my O's alone.

Tell the whole truth

Alice Roosevelt Longworth once said, "If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me." I always liked that. What I don't subscribe to is the old saying that you don't speak ill of the dead. Perhaps what I really mean is, you shouldn't lie about the dead to make them seem better than they really were. There were two deaths in the past couple of days that I'll use to illustrate that point. Yesterday came the news that KDKA radio talk show host Fred Honsberger had died. To hear everyone talking about him, you would have thought a saint had gone to his reward. As an occasional listener to Fred's show, I thought he was a lie-spewing, truth-twisting, rude and nasty jackass. He was a leader in coarsening and debasing public discourse in our region. Some might say that it was a personna Fred displayed on his program and that he didn't really believe in everything he was saying. Well, in that case, he was a fraud. Take your pick: jackass or fraud. Then, today, we learned of the death of Cincinnati Bengals receiver and former West Virginia Mountaineer Chris Henry, who was fatally injured when he fell from a pickup truck driven by his girlfriend. For those who don't follow football closely, Henry was a sad excuse for a human being when he played at WVU, and he assembled a rap sheet as long as your arm while with the Bengals. But because he hadn't been arrested recently, everyone's talking about him as a "young man who really turned his life around." Really? The guy died while chasing his girlfriend during a domestic dispute. Sounds like a regular Ward Cleaver. I'm sorry that both these men died, especially at their ages, and I feel for their families and friends, but let's not whitewash reality. And let me make it clear that I want the same honest treatment when I die. Feel free to say that I was sometimes (most of the time?) a horse's ass. I believe strongly in telling the truth. ;-)

Best wishes

Wishing a happy Thanksgiving to one and all. I'm thankful for a lot of things this year, including the people I've come to know (and argue with) on this blog. And I actually plan to have some new content soon. Been a busy week. Take care, all. Travel safely and eat hearty.

Time to clean house

There’s a television show on the A&E network called "Hoarders." It delves into the lives of folks who have a compulsion that leads them to save anything and everything. Some of these sad folks specialize. One fellow collected stuff that he bought at hardware stores because he was convinced he would need it someday for household projects, which mostly never got done. There also was a lady who had grown up poor and now hoards food. Unfortunately, her house was full of rotting produce, canned goods that carried expiration dates from years ago and a refrigerator filled with unidentifiable materials in various states of decomposition. I have to plead guilty to a little hoarding of my own. It's not like the affliction of the people on the TV show. While I have no problem with common filth (just ask my wife), I hate clutter (except in my car). My weakness was for old e-mails. My Yahoo! account had something on the order of 5,000 old e-mails in it. Some of it was just neglect in not killing out junk. But some of it resulted from e-mails that I thought might contain a snippet of information, or an e-mail address, that I might need again someday. On Monday, I made the decision to clean it out, once and for all. I thought about a deliberate foray through all those old e-mails, trying to preserve those that really did have some nugget of import, but that would have taken hours and hours. So, finally, I killed them all in one fell swoop, with no regard for their content. And since then, as soon as I open an e-mail and read its contents, I kill it out of the system. Now it's time to grad a trash bag and head for the Lebaron.

Just leave me alone

I'm one of those people who truly enjoys grocery shopping, and I've liked it even more since the store I frequent installed the self-checkout aisles. I have one lingering problem, however. Even though I choose to do it myself, store employees are forever trying to pitch in, whether by scanning my groceries for me while I'm at the other end bagging or, even worse, by trying to bag my groceries for me. One reason why I choose the self-service option is that I'd rather not stand there while a checkout person examines my every item as if they have just been handed the Shroud of Turin. Second, I want to bag my own groceries because, for one thing, I can put items in the bags in a way that will make it easier for me to put them away, and I also am not prone to putting a 15-pound ham on top of a loaf of Wonder bread. The other good thing about the self-checkout lines is that they're used by a relative few shoppers. Members of the over-70 set will stand in regular lines that stretch back into the food shelves before they would think of trying those new-fangled grocery scanners. I'm fine with that. In fact, I think people - sorry, but especially the elderly - should be tested before they are allowed to use the self-checkout lines, just to make sure they can proceed at an acceptable speed and are capable of mastering that "futuristic" technology. In the meantime, I beseech the store employees to actually let me do it myself.

Just shut up

It's probably safe to say that the less we hear from Mackenzie Phillips, the better. I find it hard to believe that very many people are interested in hearing anything she has to say. The "highlight" of her acting career was her role on the sitcom “One Day at a Time” back in the 1970s. Since then, she's been best known as a dope addict. But now, 30 years after the alleged "fact," Phillips is coming out with the allegation that her father, John Phillips of the musical group the Mamas and the Papas, raped her on the eve of her first marriage, and that they then had a decade-long consensual sexual relationship. John Phillips is dead and thus unable to defend himself. You have to wonder why Mackenzie Phillips sees the need to air this supposed filthy family laundry at this late date. Could she possibly be trying to help others who might have had sick relationships with family members? Anything's possible, I suppose. But consider these facts: Phillips issued her claims on “The Oprah Winfrey Show” just at the time when she’s releasing a book called “High on Arrival.” I'm going to go ahead and suspect that her real motivation is to make a buck. And she’s definitely not the only one who is guilty of providing too much information. As a people, we seem to have lost all grasp of the concept that some things are private and best kept to oneself. I avoid shows like “Entertainment Tonight” and “Inside Edition” like the plague because, frankly, I don’t give a damn about the private lives of actors, singers and other celebrities. Why does anyone care what these people, whom they don’t even know, do with their free time? I just don’t get it.

You can take your revitalization and ...

It seems that a good number of Mt. Pleasant Township residents aren't taking too kindly to a proposed "revitalization” of Hickory’s main drag, and who can blame them? Someone got the bright idea to pursue a Main Street project in Hickory, and township supervisors held a meeting to discuss the proposal Wednesday night. About 20 residents turned up to tell supervisors they don't want it. They cite concerns about safety and are worried about the effect on their homes if planned 5-foot-wide sidewalks are installed along a section of Main Street that includes just a few more than two dozen properties. One concern is that the proposed creation of eight on-street parking spaces would cause a visibility hazard along that stretch of Route 50. According to an O-R report, the residents heard from Mark Paluso, executive director of Town Center Associates, who outlined the plan to "establish a vital village center for the community." That plan includes – and I kid you not – the aforementioned 5-foot-wide brick sidewalks, floral gardens, old-fashioned light posts, trees and "a life-sized bronze sculpture of a farmer, honoring the area's agricultural roots." Are you kidding me? Paluso, who by his remarks quoted in the O-R story sounded almost shocked that anyone would oppose his plan, said it would be unwise to do away with the on-street parking spots, unless a clear hazard is proven. "The attempt is to create a mixed-use village center,” he said. "That's where you get life, vibrancy and continuity. You are dramatically hurting your ability to make a village center." Did he ever think that maybe most of the folks who live in that area aren't interested in what he's selling? Hickory is a farm town, and I could be wrong, but I'm going to venture a guess that Paluso is a "city fella." If he's not, he sure has lost touch with his roots. I'm not sure how much money – and you can bet that at some level, it'll be the people's tax dollars – is supposed to be spent on this plan, but do they really think people are suddenly going to be flocking to Hickory, and for what purpose? The proponents of this project should look to Washington, where $15 million was spent on such things as new sidewalks, planters and trash cans. Has anyone seen the fruits of this investment? All I've seen are the same dead downtown and some fancy streetlights that don't work. Mt. Pleasant Township (that's one of its "residents” shown in the above photo; he's "on the fence" about the project) has been around since 1788. It seems to be doing just fine without a "revitalization." Perhaps Town Center Associates should peddle its wares elsewhere. I hear Taylorstown and Sparta don't yet have "vital village centers."

Where are a rope and a stout limb when you need them?

We've all had our "weeks from hell." Let me tell you (bore you) about mine. It all started on Wednesday, July 23, when I had to start preparing for a routine colonoscopy the next day. The process goes like this: About 3 p.m., you take a few Dulcolax tablets. A couple of hours later, you start gulping down glasses of Gatorade that has been mixed with a whole lot of a powdery laxative called Miralax. I was instructed to use 255 grams of Miralax, which is a whole tub of the stuff. I looked at the bottle, and if you're just trying to prod balky bowels, you use 17 grams. Needless to say, once the Miralax kicks in, it's a pretty good idea to be in the vicinity of a toilet. By midnight, I felt as if Mike Tyson had used me for a heavy-bag workout. The next day, I go in the for procedure, and despite the IV drug they gave me, I wasn't quite out of it when the doctor went to work on me with the tube. It felt pretty much like he had stuffed a couple of wolverines up my wazoo. Fortunately, the drugs kicked in shortly thereafter, and the next thing I knew, a nice lady was handing me a Coca-Cola. They also advised that the good doctor had snipped off a couple of polyps while he was "in there," so it wasn't just a casual tour of my lower intestines. After that, I'm figuring that life has to be looking up. Ha ha. It was shortly thereafter that the electrical system in my house began to behave in a strange manner. Out of the blue, half the house would periodically go dark. Just as mysteriously, it would go back on. Sometimes, if the air-conditioner kicked on, that would jump start the part of the house that was dark. I'm still in the process of trying to figure that one out and solve the problem without having to take out a loan. Then, the first of this week, the upstairs toilet and I had an epic two-day battle. I finally won, with the help of an Internet cure found by the missus that included hot water and Palmolive. In the midst of my jousting with the "royal throne," my son calls me at work to advise that something "really bad" has happened to the push mower. He tells me that there's some oil on the deck of the mower. When I get home, I tip it up to see if there's any damage underneath, and when I do that, all kinds of oil and large chunks of metal come out of the side of the engine compartment. Nice. I fully expected a plague of locusts or snakes the last couple of days, but all is quiet. And I got a call yesterday telling me those polyps I had snipped off were benign, so maybe things are looking up. Nevertheless, I'm still on the lookout for lightning bolts, and next week I get to take my car to the shop. Oh boy.

Jon and Kate ... Hey, wait

I don't watch much reality television. For some reason, I'm not attracted to shows such as "Rock of Love," "Bridezillas" and "Big Brother" that seem to feature nothing but scummy, mean-spirited, slimy, venal and repugnant people. But one would almost have to live in a cave to avoid the mass media frenzy over the family featured in a TLC series called "Jon and Kate Plus Eight." The program follows the lives of Jon and Kate Gosselin and their eight children, a set of twins who are nearly 9 and 5-year-old sextuplets. And those lives, of late, seem to be twirling down the toilet. In my limited exposure to the program, it struck me that the mother in the family is what we used to call a "bitch on wheels." The dad appears to be a disinterested schlump. And if you believe the news reports, some from questionable sources, one or both of the parents might be having extramarital affairs, and divorce might be right around the corner. It appears to me that if these two don't actively hate each other, there's an intense and growing dislike. Which brings me to my point: Does anybody involved in this sordid mess really give a damn about those eight kids? I presume that they're all in school now, and I'm guessing that, kids being kids, some other youngster will inevitably ask, "Why does your Daddy have a girlfriend?" or "I saw on TV that your Mommy and Daddy are getting a divorce." The exploitation of these children would be considered deplorable by any caring person, but it's clear, at least at this writing, that the parents are content to allow the apparent collapse of the family to be carried out in front of millions of TV viewers. Could the big money they're raking in be the overriding factor? It's pretty clear that they're now accustomed to living a high life that, without the television program, they would be unlikely to be able to afford. If the producers of the show or the folks at the network that carries it had any morals and integrity, they would pull the plug. But again, money talks - and it's really loud. So, no matter that these children might be scarred for life by what's going on here. There's plenty of cash to be stuffed into the adults' pockets.

View from Brazil

My friend Mark Swift, a music professor at W&J, is currently on sabbatical in Brazil. My wife will be leading a group of young people from First Presbyterian Church in Washington who will join Mark in early July. For a glimpse of life in Brazil and Mark's experiences there, check out his blog.

Say what?

An oil company has an advertisement currently running on radio that praises a driver who switched from an "inferior" oil to the company's synthetic product by telling the driver, "That's using your dipstick." The phrase is repeated several times throughout the ad. They intend it as a compliment. I had a totally different take. Do I just have a filthy mind?

Trickle-down stupidity?

OK, boys and girls, listen carefully. Unwed mother Bristol Palin has some advice for you on how to avoid getting in the "family way." Of course, it's abstinence, which worked so well for her. Bristol gave an interview to ABC's "Good Morning America" in which she said that she wishes she had waited to have sex. I'll bet she does. She also offered this startling bit of information: "I just think that abstinence is the only way you can effectively, 100 percent foolproof way you can prevent pregnancy." Hold the presses. Do you mean that if you don't do the horizontal hokey-pokey, you can't get pregnant? This should solve everything in the area of teen pregnancy, right? Wrong! Even Bristol's baby daddy, who looked like a deer in the headlights when he was paraded around the Republican National Convention and learned that he would be getting married, knows better than that. Levi Johnston, now estranged from Bristol, said abstinence is "not realistic." Smart boy, at least in that regard. "Abstinence is a great idea," Johnston said in an interview with "CBS This Morning. "But I also think you need to enforce, you know, condoms and birth control and other things like that to have safe sex. I don't just think telling young kids, ‘You can’t have sex,’ it's not going to work." Perhaps he didn't say it eloquently, but Johnston is right on the money. We can talk all we want about abstinence being the best bet for our children. It is. There's really no denying that. But the reality, which some find to be an inconvenient truth, is that unmarried young people have been having sex with one another since the dawn of time, and they will continue to do so in large numbers as long as humans walk the Earth. What we have to do, as responsible people, is find the best ways of helping these children protect themselves from pregnancy and disease, and if they foul up, we should make sure that they have access to the morning-after pill. No, it shouldn't be used as a routine birth-control measure, but if a couple of kids screw up, no pun intended, the rest of their lives should not be ruined (and many are undeniably altered for the worse by an unintended pregnancy) when a simple trip to the drugstore could prevent it. Telling kids to just say no to sex is about as effective as telling the ground not to get wet when it rains. If Bristol Palin, a girl from a stable, well-to-do, loving, two-parent family who no doubt had her mother in her ear preaching abstinence for years, goes ahead and has unprotected sex, what are the odds that a girl from a poor, single-parent home with little hope for the future is going to buck the odds and keep her drawers on? We need to help our kids, and ourselves, by offering them more than empty words.

The latest on the same-sex marriage front

This just in from Maine:

AUGUSTA, Maine – Maine's governor signed a freshly passed bill Wednesday approving gay marriage, making it the fifth state to approve the practice and moving New England closer to allowing it throughout the region.
New Hampshire legislators were also poised to send a gay marriage bill to their governor, who hasn't indicated whether he'll sign it. If he does, Rhode Island would be the region's sole holdout.
The Maine Senate voted 21-13, with one absent, for a bill that authorizes marriage between any two people rather than between one man and one woman, as state law currently allows. The House had passed the bill Tuesday.
Democratic Gov. John Baldacci, who hadn't previously indicated how he would handle the bill, signed it shortly afterward. In the past, he said he opposed gay marriage but supported civil unions, which provide many benefits of marriage.
Debate was brief. Senate President Elizabeth Mitchell, D-Vassalboro, turned the gavel over to an openly gay member, Sen. Lawrence Bliss, D-South Portland, to preside over the final vote.
Republican Sen. Debra Plowman of Hampden argued that the bill was being passed “at the expense of the people of faith.”
“You are making a decision that is not well-founded,” warned Plowman.
But Senate Majority Leader Philip Bartlett II said the bill does not compel religious institutions to recognize gay marriage.
“We respect religious liberties. ... This is long overdue,” said Bartlett, D-Gorham.
Maine is now the fourth state in New England, to allow same-sex marriages. Connecticut enacted a bill after being ordered to allow gay marriages by the courts, and Vermont passed a bill over the governor’s veto.
New Hampshire’s House was also expected to vote on a bill Wednesday and send it to Gov. John Lynch, a Democrat.
Massachusetts’ high court has ordered the state to recognize gay marriages. In Rhode Island, a bill to legalize same-sex marriage has been introduced but is not expected to pass this year.
Outside New England, Iowa is recognizing gay marriages on court orders. The practice was briefly legal in California before voters banned it.

The interesting quote here, for me, is from Sen. Plowman, who said the bill was being passed "at the expense of the people of faith." However, the new law does not require churches to perform gay marriages or to recognize them, and it doesn't require Sen. Plowman to like it. The two statements most often offered in opposition to gay marriage are: 1. It's wrong (under some religious belief system) or 2. How do I explain to my children why their friend has two mothers? To the first objection, I would say, we should not be basing our laws on any particular religious belief system. Who is to say that one church's beliefs are better than another's? And there are some churches that are very welcoming and accepting of gay people. As to the second objection, try something like this: "Honey, God created many different kinds of people. It's not for us to judge them just because they are different from us." Or maybe, "The main thing is that Bobby's parents love one another." Trying to shield a child from the fact that gay people exist or that they are married is just idiotic, and it's going to prove fruitless, because someday all people, whatever their sexual orientation, will have equal access to marriage rights. And if you're still convinced that being gay is a choice, you're either in deep denial of reality or you need help matching socks. I'm still waiting for a good explanation from a gay-marriage opponent as to how allowing gay folks to marry hurts them or their own marriage. I'm all ears.

Striking out at some easy targets

New Jersey has become the first state in the nation to require drivers 21 and younger to put a decal on their cars noting that a young driver is behind the wheel. Will that improve highway safety? Probably not one lick. Pam Fischer of the New Jersey Division of Highway Safety says the move will help police to determine whether young people are complying with other elements of the new law, which include a rollback of the driving curfew from midnight to 11 p.m. and banning teens from having more than one other young person in their cars. Also, the state is considering decals that would attach with Velcro so they could be removed when an older person is driving the vehicle. Is it just me, or do you think a young person who is violating one or more of the new restrictions just might pull off the decal? And if you have four teens who are going on a double date, and can no longer travel in one car, you're now putting two teenage drivers on the road instead of one. Is that a positive? And what is the state of New Jersey doing about dangerous drivers at the other end of the age spectrum? Not a damn thing. We just had more evidence of the dangers posed by elderly drivers last week, when a retired priest mowed down people outside a Pittsburgh-area church, killing one of them. His explanation? The accelerator pedal had a mind of its own. Isn't it funny that gas pedals seem to stick only on elderly people's cars? But our government leaders will continue to ignore this threat because old people vote. For the most part, kids don't, so they get the shaft.

How dumb do they think we are? Wait, don't answer that.

I got an e-mail today from someone purportedly representing the customer service department at Bank of America. It was advised that someone was using multiple computers and a variety of password combinations in a bid to secure entry to my Bank of America online banking account. It was urgent, said the e-mail, that I re-confirm my account information to them by tomorrow, or my account would be suspended indefinitely, "as it may have been used for fraudulent purposes." There was one really big problem with this e-mail. I don't have a Bank of America banking account. But you know what? I guarantee that someone, somewhere who also did not have a Bank of America banking account nevertheless sent personal and/or financial information to the site included in the e-mail. Why? Because they're dummies. And scam artists such as the ones behind the Bank of America ruse count on a certain percentage of their targets being stupid people. That's how they make money. There were other signs in the Bank of America e-mail that would lead any reasonably intelligent person to recognize they were a target of a scam. The bank logo was a grainy reproduction, and the entreaty concluded with thanks for my patience in this "mattern." We hear all the time through the media about dummies who give thousands of dollars of their life savings to people they've never seen or heard of, just because they're told that thousands more will be coming back to them if they do so. And yet people fall for this stuff again and again and again. There's an element of greed at work here, but the biggest factor is that some folks are just a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Anyone can fall victim to an identity-theft crime, but for some of these scams, you really have to be a dope to get shafted.

Gay is OK again

Amazon.com has backtracked after what it described as an "embarrassing and ham-fisted cataloging error" that led to tens of thousands of books being removed from the popular online retailer's sales rankings. At first, it was thought that gay-themed books such as Annie Proulx’s "Brokeback Mountain" were the main targets, but Amazon says the "error" involved more than 57,000 books "in a number of broad categories such as health; mind and body; reproductive and sexual medicine; and erotica." According to Agence France Presse, Mark Probst, author of a gay romance novel, said on his blog that he questioned Amazon about the deletion of his work and was told that the company was cutting "adult" materials from its Web searches and sales lists "in consideration of our entire customer base." It's a good thing that Amazon is rectifying the situation, but I'm not buying the explanation that this was an error. An error is dropping the cap from the toothpaste tube down the drain in the bathroom sink. This seems more likely to have been a deliberate act by someone trying to impose his or her own value judgments on literature. That worked in Hitler's Germany. It won't fly here. I hope.

Good job, Boys

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is no stranger to controversy, or stupidity. The group's latest lame-brained stunt involved asking the musical group Pet Shop Boys to change its name to the Rescue Shelter Boys to focus attention on the plight of animals sold in pet shops. The Pet Shop Boys threw PETA a bone, so to speak, by saying the group raised issues worthy of discussion, but they declined the organization's request. According to Agence France Presse, PETA, in its letter to the Pet Shop Boys, alleged that "most dogs and cats sold in pet shops are sourced from profit-hungry breeders who may have bred them in cramped, filthy conditions." Or maybe not. PETA, of course, offered no valid support for its accusations. Also, the group failed to mention that most often there is no information about the breeding of animals one might find at a rescue shelter. Someone who adopts an animal from a shelter really has no idea whether that animal might be susceptible to diseases or conditions arising from improper breeding practices. PETA's core mission, to prevent mistreatment of animals, is a good one. But the group has failed to win broad support because many people consider it an extremist organization and a running joke. Perhaps PETA should be the one changing its name. How about "Jagoffs with too much time on our hands"?

Who do you think is the cat's pajamas?

Even those of us who are happily married sometimes cast a sideways glance at an attractive member of the opposite sex who crosses our path. Some folks might actually stare with their mouths hanging open. Heck, even pious Jimmy Carter admitted to committing adultery in his heart. Some people, men and women alike, have a fascination with celebrities, whether they be music stars, movie stars or just those folks who have no discernable talents (at least ones I can mention here) and are famous for being famous (see Paris Hilton). I’m not much of a star-worshipper. I regularly see women in Washington County who seem to me to be as attractive as most of those on the silver screen. I will take time out of my busy schedule to gawk if images of Scarlett Johansson (above) or Christina Ricci are easily accessible, but I’ve never understood why some men think Jennifer Garner is hot, and I am absolutely stunned that Sarah Jessica Parker is a Hollywood star. I mean, the woman (again, just in my opinion) is borderline homely, and her acting skills have never, ever been compared to Meryl Streep’s. Some men will tell you that they never look in an admiring way at any woman other than their wives. Here’s the deal. I don’t believe you. And you women, don’t pretend that you’re above all this. We men know that if Johnny Depp or Hugh Jackman came a-callin’, the next thing we’d hear from you might come in the form of a letter from a divorce lawyer. For most people, it’s harmless fantasy. We truly love the people we’re married to, and we’d actually turn down Scarlett or Johnny if they showed up at our doors (not that I bear any delusions that Scarlett Johansson will suddenly develop a taste for old, fat guys with no money; I do, however, hear that old fat guys with a boatload of money do pretty well for themselves). But I digress. Share with me and the readers of the blog your picks for the celebrities who mesmerize you, and those who are sex symbols for reasons you’ve never been able to figure out. And while we’re at it, tell us about someone you secretly find highly alluring, even though people would probably think you’re crazy. I’ll go first: It’s Flo, the lady in the Progressive insurance commercials. She raises my deductible.

Now playing an extended engagement in Ottumwa?

The ink was barely dry on the order before the inevitable bleating and caterwauling began. Iowa's Supreme Court today unanimously overturned the state's gay-marriage ban, giving gay people a third state where they can legally be wed. Gay-rights advocates, as expected, hailed the justice inherent in the decision. As for the reaction from the other side, well, I could have done a pretty accurate job of typing up their comments in advance. Said Bryan English, spokesman for the conservative Iowa Family Policy Center, "I would say the mood is one of mourning right now in a lot of ways." He also made it clear that folks like him will now turn to state lawmakers in an effort to have a California-style referendum on the issue. "This is an issue that will define (lawmakers') leadership. This is not a side issue," said English. But of course. With all the issues confronting Iowa lawmakers, certainly stopping people who love one another from getting married should be at the forefront of their concerns. Then the Rev. Keith Ratliff Sr. of Maple Street Baptist Church in Des Moines issued this chilling statement: "It's a perversion, and it opens the door to more perversions. What's next?" I don't know. Maybe cats will start mating with birds in the streets of Davenport. Or maybe Toby Keith will suddenly release an album of show tune covers. According to Salon.com, Iowa Rep. Steve King, a conservative Republican, called the decision an unconstitutional act by "activist judges." A friend remarked that when conservatives get a court ruling that's to their liking, it's a work of thoughtful jurisprudence by the judges involved, no matter how far the decision might stray from past rulings and existing constitutional law, but when a ruling goes against the right-wingers, it's always those darned "activist judges." King also fears Iowa is at risk of becoming a "gay marriage Mecca." I can help him there. Rep. King, I advise you to get your buddies in Congress together and legislatively enact equal marriage rights for all Americans. There. Mecca problem solved. The whole gay marriage debate isn't going anywhere anytime soon, but I can tell you this: The push for equal rights for gay Americans is a relentless tide, beating against the ramparts of intolerance, hate and ignorance. Those barriers will someday fall. It might take five years, 10 years or 20 years, but the die is cast. A new day is dawning. It's just a matter of how quickly we feel that sunshine.

Dog doo and fancy duds

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote: "The very rich ... are different from you and me." He sure got that right. For one thing, they have servants. And sometimes, the relationship between employer and employee sours. Such is the case with NBA superstar Kobe Bryant and his former housekeeper, Maria Jimenez, who claims in a lawsuit that she had to quit her job because of the intolerable and humiliating conditions of her employment. The case centers mainly on Jimenez' allegations that Bryant's wife, Vanessa, is a raging (pick a word that rhymes with ditch). One specific instance of alleged mistreatment cited by Jimenez' lawsuit centered on the ex-housekeeper's handling of one of Mrs. Bryant's blouses. Jimenez said Vanessa Bryant accused her of ruining an expensive blouse by putting it in a clothes washer. Jimenez alleges that Mrs. Kobe then demanded that she put her hand into a bag of doggie doo in order to retrieve the price tag for the blouse and insisted that she work until her next payday to cover the cost of the blouse. Now, the whole doggie doo thing is interesting enough, and I wondered how the tag and the doo came to be in the bag together, but what caught my eye in the AP story on the lawsuit was the cost of this piece of clothing: $690. I'm all for letting people spend their own money as they see fit (though I'm guessing Mrs. Kobe gets her money from Mr. Kobe, and as much of it as she wants in the wake of that messy little sexual assault case that included Mr. Kobe's admission of adultery), but does anybody really need a $700 piece of clothing? Couldn't Mrs. Kobe have found a lovely frock for $100 and maybe used the other $600 to help an adult literacy program or a food kitchen? Perhaps the Bryants already give generously to charities, but my point is that it just seems wrong somehow to fork over that much money for a shirt. I'm far from perfect in this regard. I've spent tens of thousands of dollars on cigarettes and adult beverages over the years, and I could certainly live more frugally. But I've never been one to spend a lot of cash on clothes. Ask anyone who's ever seen my wardrobe. I'm guessing that in the area of everyday clothing, the most I've ever spent for a single item is probably $50 for a pair of shoes. How about you folks? Not counting a dress suit or wedding dress or some such special-occasion clothing, what's the most you've spent on a single item for your wardrobe?

Those Brazilians are one tough breed

From the I-can’t-believe-they-need-to-make-a-law-against-this department comes word that the state of New Jersey is considering a ban on, um, genital waxing. Specifically, the state Board of Cosmetology and Hairstyling – am I the only one who chuckled when reading that? – wants to prohibit so-called Brazilian bikini waxes after two women were hospitalized for infections after undergoing the “procedures.” Being a person not familiar with waxing of any sort, aside from the use of candles, I did a little research and learned that a “Brazilian” involves the application of hot wax and a yanking motion to remove each and every hair from a person’s body “down South.” That’s front, rear and all points in between, I’m led to believe. And just a warning here. Do not, NOT, let the kids look up bikini waxing on Wikipedia. Yikes! I’ll pause a minute here while you all look up bikini waxing on Wikipedia. OK. Now I recognize that ladies like to look their best on the beach in the warm months, and a little, uh, landscaping is probably advisable. But, number one, there has to be a better way. And, number two, it’s not really necessary for you ladies to go to the extremes required for you to wear a bikini with a front the size of a postage stamp. We fellas have a pretty good idea of the general female anatomy in that region, whether you cover it with a cotton ball or a kaftan. You can limit the advertising, is what I’m saying. I’m not suggesting that you want to do your own pelvic tribute to Larry Fine from the Three Stooges, but a little moderation seems to be in order here. I also have learned that some “men” go in for this waxing to remove unwanted hair. You know who you are, and you should immediately turn in your “guy card.”

Where do the hours go?

As you might have read on Park Burroughs' "Grumpy Old Editor" blog, these are trying times for the Observer-Reporter. Like virtually every other newspaper in the country, we're doing what we have to do to keep our heads above water. That has meant some buyouts of longtime employees and even some layoffs. And for those of us lucky enough to still be in the business, it's meant a heavier workload and changes in our jobs. This is a roundabout way of apologizing for my relative lack of blogging in the past couple of weeks. My duties here are changing, as have my hours, and my blogging routine has gone by the wayside. I wonder sometimes where the hours of my days disappear to. Even if we had all the money in the world, we can't buy time. But I was thinking the other day, what if I did have all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted? What would I do with it? We can assume, for the sake of this exercise, that I've just hit a major Powerball jackpot and have no further need to work. I think I would fill those now-empty hours by spending more time with my family, reading and napping. Doesn't sound like much, but it would work for me. Never discount the benefit of taking a nap whenever you feel like it. With these few minutes I have available right now, I'd like to send out a few words to a regular reader of the blog who has a little too much time on her hands right now to ponder weighty issues such as the future and her own mortality. Janice has been fighting a long and difficult battle against cancer, and I just want her to know that my thoughts are with her. Maybe some of you who are good with the "prayer thing" could take a few of your minutes to help her out a little, also. Hang in there, Janice. A lot of people are pulling for you.

Bridging the divide

Eric Holder, the nation's first black attorney general, said recently that the United States is a nation of cowards when it comes to race relations, noting that while blacks and whites are shoulder to shoulder in the workplace, they largely segregate themselves in their social lives. The election of Barack Obama as president was a watershed moment in our nation's history, as was Holder's selection as attorney general, but those events, significant as they are, don't "trickle down" to average Americans. I hear often that we need a "dialogue" on racial issues, that we need to discuss our differences and bridge the gaps between the races. What I don't hear is how we get that process started and how we measure progress. Some people might tell you otherwise, but there still exists a huge level of distrust between blacks and whites, and one need only look at some of the words and deeds during the past presidential campaign to recognize that racism is still far from eradicated in our society. Heck, just look at the daily poll on the O-R Web site on any given day, and the racism is barely concealed, if it is at all. Whites have to recognize their own prejudices before any progress can be made, but blacks have to do their part, as well. Black Americans should spend less time overreacting to each and every stray use of the "N word" and pay more attention to things like the ridiculously high black illegitimacy rate, which spawns other ills such as poor performance in school, drug addiction and violent crime. The powers that be can help with the crime problem by refusing to coddle people who have no intention of conforming their actions to the accepted norms of society. The justice system should not be a revolving door that continually takes in and spits out the scum that walk our streets. The recent double-fatal shooting at a West End bar is testament to that. Most whites in this country are not dyed-in-the-wool racists, and they're willing to give black people a helping hand to improve their lot, but members of the black community have to recognize and admit their own collective failings and take steps to correct them before they can expect that hand to be outstretched.

One hump or two?

Guys all across America are really starting to sweat. It’s just a couple of days until Valentine’s Day, and a lot of us have no idea what to get our significant others. Candy is tried and true. Flowers are an old standby. You can never go wrong with diamonds. But maybe this year, you’re in the market for some animal sex. I don’t mean you with an animal and a camcorder. For $50 a couple, the Binder Park Zoo in Battle Creek, Mich., is offering folks the opportunity to get what the AP calls “an unabashed look at how wild animals make babies.” Those who sign up for “Zoorotica” will get champagne, hors d’oeuvres, a video presentation (God knows what that entails) and a guided tour that will feature the private digs of snow leopards, giraffes, zebras and more. Now, I don’t bat an eye when people are into sex videos involving human actors, but it never occurred to me to say, “Honey, on this romantic day, whaddya say we go over to Uncle Bill’s farm and watch the bull have his way with the mama cow.” Maybe I’m missing out on something, but I don’t think so.

They were asking for trouble

I’m not a picky eater. That’s clear by looking at me. But I think I would draw the line at a so-called delicacy that recently sickened seven people, three seriously, in northern Japan. It seems the life-threatening ailments were caused by eating improperly prepared blowfish testicles. Blowfish poison is said to be 100 percent more poisonous than cyanide, so it would take a certain level of bravery, or stupidity, to eat even a fillet. But testicles? It gives a whole new meaning to “fish nuggets.”

What a week

To my regular victims, I mean readers, I have to apologize for my lack of activity over the past few days. The week began with a difficult and heart-rending decision to euthanize a beloved family pet. And that was the good part. The next day, my grandmother died. Add to that an ice storm that rendered my rural driveway impassable and unclearable, forcing my out-of-town relatives who came in for the funeral - including my elderly parents – to schlep up and down the hill like a bunch of Sherpas, and you can imagine what a lovely time we’ve been having. Oh, I forgot to mention the mother of all head colds. I’m expecting the plague of locusts any time now. But, as Scarlett O’Hara said, “Tomorrow is another day.” And, hopefully, tomorrow I can get back to blogging – and breathing. Go Steelers!

Farewell, old buddy

An era is ending today at the Observer-Reporter. My good friend Stan Diamond, who has toiled for many years for the newspaper as a writer and photographer, both in the Greene County and Washington offices, is taking a well-earned retirement. I’m not sure about the precise number of years Stan has been at the O-R, and I don’t want to suggest that he’s old, but when Stan started in the business, Gutenberg was still working out the bugs in the concept of movable type. Seriously, Stan’s been here for about 40 years. I’ve been here about half of Stan’s tenure, and there are plenty of stories to tell. One that stands out was the time Stan went to take a photo on Maiden Street, where a young boy, tragically, had been stuck and killed by a car while riding his bike. Stan took a variety of photos and suggested a wide shot of the scene with the bicycle and the ambulance in the frame. Instead, I chose a close-up shot of the crumpled bike, and near the bicycle was a bit of the poor child’s blood. Stan warned me against using it. I thought the photo, while painful to look at, was a stark reminder of the dangers of children riding bikes on busy streets and the need for helmet use. Well, a number of our readers didn’t take kindly to our use of the photo, and since Stan’s name was in the caption, he’s the one who was the target of the hate letters, phone calls and, in one case, a subscriber who returned a comment card with three words on it: “FIRE STAN DIAMOND!” That’s when we started calling him “Lenses of Death.” He found it a lot less humorous than we did. Some of those letter writers and phone callers thought Stan was the devil incarnate, so they must have found a bit of justice a couple of years later when an editor botched a photo caption and labeled a picture as being taken by “Satan Diamond.” With his retirement, we lose not only a talented photographer, but one who truly cared about doing the best he could every day for the newspaper and its readers. Stan probably has nightmares about taking photos of high school play casts and standing on the sidelines at high school football games in the pouring rain, but we editors, in news and sports alike, knew that Stan would always do what he could to bring us back a good photo. I can’t begin to tell you how much I have learned from the man, or how much I’ll miss him.

Not the wisest move

Here’s an AP dispatch from Africa that caught my eye today:

LAGOS, Nigeria – One of Nigeria's biggest daily newspapers reported that police implicated a goat in an attempted automobile theft. In a front-page article on Friday, the Vanguard newspaper said that two men tried to steal a Mazda car two days earlier in Kwara State, with one suspect transforming himself into a goat as vigilantes cornered him.
The paper quoted police spokesman Tunde Mohammed as saying that while one suspect escaped, the other transformed into a goat as he was about to be apprehended.
The newspaper reported that police paraded the goat before journalists, and published a picture of the animal.
Police in the state couldn't immediately be reached for comment.
Belief in black magic is widespread in Nigeria, particularly in far-flung rural areas.

A goat? Really? Now, I don’t mean to criticize another person’s modus operandi, but didn’t the car thief even give a little thought to turning himself into a cheetah so he could run like hell, or maybe a lion or gorilla so he could open up a can of whoop-ass on those who tried to capture him? This shows no imagination whatsoever. And it’s not like they’re going to keep him around in a cell forever, waiting for him to change back. In that neck of the woods, they’ll just eat him. My other question is, why can’t this happen in WashPa? Just imagine the excitement if someone turned himself into a goat up by the county courthouse … and the goat was wearing a Hines Ward jersey! Now that would be a lot more newsworthy than trivial things like home foreclosures and some new guy moving into the White House.

One thin mint? It's wafer thin

I haven’t quite reached the dimensions of the infamous Mr. Creosote from “Monty Python’s Meaning of Life,” but I’m headed in that direction. As a result, in the next couple of days, I will be embarking on a diet. My publicly stated goal (which will no doubt doom me to failure) is to lose 50 pounds by Memorial Day. If you’re gonna dream, dream big. Right? My advantage is the fact that I’m not some 120-pound woman trying to lop off the last three or four pounds she needs to drop in order to be “bikini-ready” by spring. I’m a big old fat guy with lots of pounds to be discarded. Traditional diets have never worked for me, mainly because I don’t do well with structure. My general framework for the diet is to avoid carbs and shift my eating habits more toward fish and fresh vegetables. I’m going to give myself one “day off” from the diet each week to cut down on the drudgery. I’m not going to gorge on that day, but if I want a Twinkie, I’ll have one. Over the years, I’ve seen and taken part in some strange diets. I recall my mother going on a diet that had, as its centerpiece, a huge pot of this revolting cabbage soup that she kept taking out of the fridge and reheating. I think the aim of that diet was to kill one’s will to eat. I’d be more than happy to hear any tips you folks might have for me, and to hear about some of the wacky diet approaches you’re encountered. If you’ll excuse me now, it’s time for a tearful farewell to my good, good friends, white bread, sweet tea and Hellmann’s mayonnaise.

Any reports of bleeding ears?

Some radio and TV stations are in dutch with the Federal Communications Commission as the result of their airing of the Philadelphia Phillies championship celebration a few months back. The offense, at least according to the couple of dozen people who complained, was the utterance of the "F word" by Phillies second baseman Chase Utley, who proclaimed that his team was "F-ing World Champions." Utley later apologized for his use of the word and implored youngsters not to follow his lead. But that wasn't sufficient for those who apparently were scarred for life by Utley's utterance. Said one person in an FCC complaint: "This was an intentional misuse and abuse of the public airwaves ... How am I to explain such profanity to my child?" Get a grip. Maybe you should just tell the tot that Mr. Utley said what you consider to be a bad word, and you don't want to hear the younster using it. And Utley was a fairly unlikely candidate to drop the "F bomb." An AP story says he has a "genial image" in Philly and is known, along with his wife, for supporting animal rescue and adoption. It's not like the Phillies and the TV and radio stations turned the floor over to Andrew "Dice" Clay. When my son was a small fry, I often took him with me to the golf course. My golf game, to be kind, was rather inconsistent, and the young lad often heard words one might not say while greeting the queen of England. Included among those words, frequently, was the "F word." I don't think he was scarred for life by the experience. In fact, he'll soon be 20 years old, and I've yet to hear him utter that word. I'm not one to categorize words as "good" or "bad." My suggestion for those wishing to protect themselves or their children from "naughty" words is to build a cabin in the woods, cut off all outside sources of information and, if you have kids, homeschool them using nothing but the Bible. But choose the passages wisely. I understand there's a lot of sex and violence in the "good book."

Dark days

There was a day, admittedly long, long ago, when I considered myself to be in the forefront of finding good, new music that the average music fan wasn't aware of. I was cutting edge. Those days, clearly, are behind me. My musical tastes these days tend toward what my daughter ungraciously refers to as "weepy college girl music." OK, so I've mellowed a bit. But I hit rock bottom on Monday. While looking on iTunes for a CD to download, the folks at iTunes, based on my download selection, pointed out a mix CD that they thought I might also enjoy: The title: "Soccer Mom Chillout." Oh, the shame!

Whom do you tip, and how much?

Glad to be back among you after an enjoyable visit with the in-laws in Cincinnati (which included watching, in person, a stirring victory by the Bengals over the powerhouse Kansas City Chiefs - Who Dey?). One of my in-laws (she wanted to remain anonymous - oops) suggested that I ask for opinions on the blogosphere about tipping. Whom do you tip? The mailman? Bartenders? The paper delivery person (who is, for the most part, no longer a neighborhood kid, but a guy in a pickup truck)? The person who cuts your hair? The guy who uses one of Ellipses' beloved Shamwows to wipe off your seat at a ball game? I recently had furniture delivered and gave $10 to each of the guys who lugged the stuff in. Is that typical? And once we've determined whom we tip, we have to decide how much. I think a buck is plenty for the guy with the Shamwow, but how much for waitresses and waiters, who rely most on tips? From what I understand, the old 10-percent-of-the-bill tip is so 1970s. If the service is good, I generally tip 20 percent. If it's a place like Shorty's, where the bill is smaller than, say, Angelo's or the Union Grill, I'll tip a higher percentage. Tomorrow, we'll get back to the pressing issues of the day - such as Palin's bastard grandbaby - but for now, what are your thoughts on tipping?

Happy Holidays

I just wanted to give my best holiday wishes to each and every one of you who contribute to the blog, either by your comments or just by being faithful readers. You are all greatly appreciated. I will be making a holiday trip to visit the in-laws in Cincinnati (a buddy is staying at my house, so don't even think about trying to steal my leftover Christmas cookies). The highlight of the trip will no doubt be my attendance at the Bengals-Chiefs game on Sunday (my dad-in-law has season tickets, the poor bugger). I'll try to get on here and keep up with the news of the world, but I make no guarantees. My posts may be inversely proportional to the quantity of Christmas cheer I consume. So, again, whether you be Christian, Jewish, Muslim or celebrate Kwanzaa or Festivus, my sincere wishes to you and yours. Peace and love to you all.

Kind of embarrassing

I was walking through the living room today, and the missus was watching something on television. I recognized Melissa Gilbert, but I couldn't figure out why little Laura Ingalls, or Half-Pint as she's also known, was surrounded by a bunch of swarthy immigrants speaking heavily accented English. Did a wagon train break down in Walnut Grove? Um, no. Turns out, it was a movie version of "The Diary of Anne Frank." My bad.

Nincompoops

This from the AP this afternoon:

The stock market is plunging again, diving along with investors' confidence in the economy. Confirmation that the nation is in a recession and reports of only a modest gain in holiday shopping sales have prompted many investors to resume selling after the market's five-session advance.

Jeez, Louise, even Sarah Palin could have figured out that we were in a recession. It took a government report for the idiots on Wall Street to recognize it? I swear, as soon as stocks get back up to a good level, and they will eventually, I'm taking all my money out of the markets and away from where its value can be manipulated by people with the attention span of a 3-year-old in a store full of penny candy.

Pig in a poke

There was a brief item on the AP wire the other day about a couple of Chicagoans, Melody LaLuz and Claudaniel Fabian, who shared their first kiss. Why would the AP devote time to that? Because that first kiss occurred after the two were pronounced man and wife on Saturday. The two teach abstinence in Chicago public schools and decided to practice what they preached. She's 28, and he's 30. Was it really necessary for them to abstain from kissing in advance of their marriage? Their story reminded me of a program I saw on TV recently about "purity balls," which are fancy dinner-dances where fathers and their young daughters vow to protect the girls' chastity until marriage. The creepiness factor of these events is off the charts. (See photo above) The people doing the documentary interviewed some of the participants in the ball, and the girls, even those who were adults in the eyes of the law, were allowed to date only boys or men approved by their fathers. Also, they were never allowed to be alone together unless they eventually got married. I don't understand how two people can build a one-on-one relationship if they are never given any time to themselves. I'm totally in favor of couples taking a "test drive" when it comes to sex. Half of marriages end in divorce, and sexual problems and incompatibility are part of that equation. I'm also a proponent of people living together before they tie the knot. One of the truest sayings of all time is that you really don't know someone until you live with them. How many horrible matches could be avoided if people just used the same due diligence they would if they were buying a house or a new car?

Paint it "Black"

I think I'd much prefer dental surgery or a procedure in the "family jewels" area to taking part in the annual running of the sheep known as Black Friday. For the uninitiated, that's the day (today) when people get up at the crack of dawn (actually well before it) in order to avail themselves of "great holiday bargains" offered by retailers. Some stores open at midnight, others in the wee hours of the morning, and crowds of people press their noses against the windows waiting to get in. To me, it's a lot like the bread lines in Russia during the old Soviet days. I'm sure there are some savings to be had and some hard-to-get gifts to obtain, but it's just not worth it to me. If I can't afford to buy something without the early-bird discount, I'll just pass. If some "hot" gift is sold out, I'll get something else. Seems to me that when I do my shopping late, the retailers are usually in a panicky mood and are offering good deals then, as well. But if all this hysteria is your idea of fun, enjoy. I also have a bone to pick with the people at Kohl's. They've been running a TV ad - incessantly, it seems to me - touting their 4 a.m. opening today. But the ad tells people to set their alarms for 4 a.m. so they can get to the big sale. If the sale starts at 4, shouldn't they be setting their alarms a bit earlier? Better yet, just stay up and knock back a few until it's time to go. A couple of stiff drinks sure couldn't hurt.

Snuggie as a buggie

If you like to stay toasty warm in your home during these winter months and don't mind looking a bit like a bozo, the Snuggie just might be for you. I've been seeing it advertised a lot lately on TV. The missus thinks they'd be great, but I'd be mortified if I were wearing this blanket-robe hybrid and the FedEx man came to the door. Essentially, it's a big old blanket with sleeves that you put on like a doctor donning a surgical gown. (See photo) However, it gives one the appearance of a Benedictine monk, which is fine if you're a Benedictine monk, but not so much if the FedEx man comes to the door. It also looks a bit long and unwieldy, raising my fear that I'd pull a William Holden, trip over the damn thing and crack my head off an end table. But if you're in the market (if you do a Web search for Snuggie, you can find them), they have a deal going where you not only get the Snuggie, but a free book light. BUT WAIT! If you order now, they double the order. That's right. Two Snuggies and two book lights. And you get it all for less than $30, with the shipping and handling included. Now, about the Popeil Pocket Fisherman ...

Science!!!

I opined a while back that parents do way too much worrying and go way overboard in keeping certain foods away from their children, lest they get allergies. It was my contention that the restrictions on a wee one's diet are actually more likely to doom them to food allergies. And now, there's research to back up my belief. A new study reported on by the AP contradicts the widespread assumption that consumption of peanuts or peanut-containing products in infancy creates a risk of peanut allergies. "Our study findings raise the question of whether early introduction rather than avoidance of peanuts in infancy is the better strategy for the prevention of peanut allergy," said researchers in the Journal of Allergy and Clinical Immunology. The study compared the prevalence of peanut allergy and diet histories of 5,171 Jewish children from the United Kingdom and 5,615 Jewish children from Israel. The major finding: The U.K. children had a 10-fold higher incidence of peanut allergy than those from Israel. The researchers said the most obvious difference in the diets of infants in the two groups was the introduction of peanuts. Nearly 90 percent of infants in Israel get peanuts in some form by 9 months of age, compared to just 10 percent in the U.K. Also, the Israeli mothers consumed a much higher level of peanuts during pregnancy. The researchers conclude that recommendations to avoid peanuts in early infancy could be behind the increase in peanut allergies in the U.K., Australia and the United States. An official with a panel on food allergies from the American Academy of Allergy, Asthma & Immunology says more studies are needed. But in the meantime, my advice to parents: Go nuts.

Thanks for nothin'

We all make mistakes. Check today's Observer-Reporter, and I'm sure you can pick out a couple of typos. But there are small mistakes, and then there are the ones that make your blood pressure skyrocket. A couple of weeks back, the missus started having problems with her laptop connecting to our wireless Internet, so she called the computer manufacturer, which shall remain nameless (I sure hope I don't inadvertently provide any clues), and they said they would send her a box in which she could ship the laptop to them for repairs. And I must say that they were very nice about offering to fix it for free, even though the warranty was no longer in effect. It took several days for the box to arrive, a couple more for it to arrive at their repair site, a few more for it to be fixed and shipped back, and a few more before my schedule and that of the FedEx guy meshed and I could sign for the package. The missus was greatly relieved to have it back in her possession. Just one problem: It didn't work. Now, mind you, when we shipped the laptop to the computer company, it was in perfect working order, save for the fact that it could not be used wirelessly. When it came back, it wouldn't even start up. After a long, long telephone call spent mainly trying to understand folks whose English is only moderately related to what you and I consider our native tongue, it still didn't work. They had the missus pulling out the battery and putting it back in, unplugging and replugging the power cord, etc. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Bottom line: They're sending us another box. They really couldn't explain why a computer that wouldn't even turn on had been sent back to us. Hadn't it been checked out?, the missus asked. Oh, they assured her, four or five technicians have to sign off on the work before it can leave their office. Really? I can't say that I'm all that surprised. Even when a computer is right in front of them, it's been my experience that computer technicians are not all that effective at fixing computers. I know, you would think that they would be. It seems they're very good at telling you what you already know is wrong with the computer, using fancier words, of course. But as for being able to determine WHY the computer is screwing up? Not so much. It's my belief that if auto mechanics had the same diagnostic skills as computer techs, we'd all be on horseback. You all might have similar horror stories about computer repair. Feel free to share.