The video game market is worth $25 billion annually.

That must mean there are a whole bunch of kiddos out there who are bending around corners, running their cars vertically up concrete canyon walls of buildings, and doing who knows what else.

So I have an idea. Why not make a video game that uses real battles -- say the Civil War. Maybe an actual character named Abe Lincoln -- and U. S. Grant, and Jefferson Davis and General Robert E. Lee.

And maybe places like Gettysburg, and Appamatox, and Ft. Sumter.

Video game carnage for Gettysburg wouldn't even have to be fictionalized one little bit.

If game makers used real people and real events and made them tantalizingly fun, wouldn't it be great if the kids actually learned who the players were in the Civil War, and where the great battles were fought?

The possibilities are endless. And, well, yeah, it's sort of like learning history. But it could have some twists built into it. I mean, what would have happened if General Lee had brought a few thousand more soldiers?

After the Civil War, we could just slice our way back through time and see what the Holy Roman Empire looked like. How come they made it all the way to England and I did not know about it until Quint and I went over there a few years ago?

I thought they had stayed down there in their little boot, and just made marauding excursions into the Holy Land when Christ was born.

Never did I ever know that they were trying to burn up the globe with all their little horse trotting skirmishes. I did know, though, that they made killing Christians their national sport.

Naughty naughty.

I could even see a Biology War Game about Carrie Corpuscle making a trek through the human body -- sort of like Sacagawea going to the Pacific Ocean with her buddies, Lewis and Clark.

Carrie Corpuscle could have many adventures going to various landing sites in the body -- like the lungs where she could show what really happens to healthy tissues when cigarette smoke invades the passageways.

Those little ice melting people could have a lot of fun revisiting ecology. They already made the study of the ice age beyond-belief-amusing.

It just needs a little imagination -- or talent -- to bring game stories to life. 

##

It's Texas.

More specifically, it's Kinky Friedman's campaign office. There are 150 people lined up because his staff in charge of giving away stuff is out there at the sidewalk, probably, giving away furniture.

You see, Kinky did not get elected on November 7. He was running for governor.

So all that furniture and stuff has to go. That's what campaigns usually do. They just give it away.

If they don't liquidate the assets, then the campaign organization has to pay taxes on the assets.

Well, we can't have that. These are law-abiding politicians. They just want to get elected. They don't want to pay taxes.

##

If Oregon can't get the 3 Rs figured out, an economist, Doug Woodward, at the University of South Carolina makes the suggestion that would help move his state out of the lag behind the rest of the country.

South Carolina lags behind in income, education and innovation.

So Woodward says that South Carolina could do much, much better if it had the 4 Ts -- technology, talent, trade and taxes.

Don't you just love it?

Seems to me that if you just had people with talent, they would figure out how to develop the technogy and that in turn would increase trade. And everybody knows that when trade goes up, the politicians will tax it.

So all they need is talent. Lots of it.

Talent always pulls the rest of it along.

##

First it started as the No Child Left Behind Act.

Among other things, this Act was supposed to weed out teachers who couldn't teach. If teachers could not meet the most minimum of standards, they would have to go somewhere to be recertified. Hopefully, back to school where they were supposed to have learned to teach in the first place.

Then, in a perfect world, we would actually have capable teachers.

Students are curious little sponges whose middle names are "Why." These curious little people should, at the very least, be able to bounce into a classroom where capable, qualified teachers can help them get all the mighty questions of the universe answered.

Then, these little kiddos could pass all their tests.

In a perfect world.

In a pig's eye.

However, now comes the word that the U.S. Department of Education has told the people out in Oregon that the state should adjust the scores needed to pass standardized tests in math, English and science, in order to comply with testing requirements!

The rationale, says the Department of Education, is that if the passing scores are raised, then fewer students would pass.

So let's say the child has to get at least a 70 in math to pass.

But if little Johnny only got a 65, then let's either raise (adjust) his score up to 70, or lower the benchmark down to 60 so that he could pass.

Either way, Johnny got left behind, didn't he? Because he still can't pass a math test.

##

In Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, local taxpayers are going to have to shell out $3,500 for extra security that was needed when Vice President Cheney showed up to campaign for Republican candidates in the not too far distance past election.

The taxpayers were absolutely assured that the costs of the campaign visit wouldn't be charged to them.

Now, ahem, the powers that be have decided that they won't ask the Republican Party of Idaho to reimburse security expenses for Mr. C.

Well, only if I stretch the rubber band of logic tightening around my forehead can I make that work.

So let's see. All the taxpayers in Coeur d'Alene are Idaho taxpayers.

All the members of the Republican Party of Idaho are Idaho taxpayers.

So if everybody is a taxpayer of Idaho, does it matter who foots the bill?

Actually, it does. The Republican Party of Idaho has a much broader base of money-givers. A lot of them may put their part of Idaho taxes into the piggy bank in Boise. Maybe the people in Boise could care less about Cheney coming to Coeur d'Alene.

If Coeur d'Alene wants him at the podium, let them pay for his visit. You think?

But wait a minute. I thought each and every taxpayer in the United States paid for security for the Vice President. Isn't that what the Secret Service is supposed to be doing?

What exactly is "extra security measure?"

Maybe the police escort for the motorcade?

I have a bigger problem with all these elected officials running around all over the country. Don't they have jobs to do?

I know. I know. They call recesses when it's time to run for election. That way they get time off with pay to go running around all over the country helping their buddies get elected/re-elected.

Just get back to work. All of you. And quick running up tabs to the poor little people around the country because you have to get special treatment.

##

If California were a country, it would be the fifth richest in the world.

And that's just money -- not people. But you can bet there are plenty of people out there. And people generate a lot of -- well, sewage.

I will admit that I never gave it that much thought until recently when the Hoity Toities in Malibu came to public notoriety because of a really big sewage problem. Guess the locals didn't really want the rest of us to know that they were just dumping their sewage into their front yard -- or back yard -- or wherever their septic fields happened to be located.

Actually, all that focus on the Malibu sewage came to surface -- so to speak -- because the spinach fields were besieged by e-Coli. Authorities were looking everywhere to find the cause.

Okay -- so fast forward to today.

Divers are going out to sea to inspect a pipe that takes sewage from Los Angeles and dumps all that stuff into the ocean.

Huh?

Isn't California where all the environmentalists live. You know -- the ones who don't want anyone or anything tampering with the ecosystems of the earth's biggest ponds?

And sewage from human beings isn't tampering? I don't think that's a very nice thing to do to the fishies.

##

Two Wolves One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, Greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false Pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, Kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed 'round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts ...
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said, "It's really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

"My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers.
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam,
And now it's my turn and so, here I am.

"I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures; he's sure got her smile."
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue -- an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

"I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.

"So go back inside," he said, "Harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
Give you money," I asked. "Or prepare you a feast?

"It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

"To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

The above poem is sent with this note from LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN:

Please, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrifice themselves for us.

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment, OIC
Logististics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq

And thank you, Kathy, for sharing this poem with all our readers.

Thank you, Alice Stubbe, for sharing this e-mail:

Dear Children:

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was some of your predecessors who decided to celebrate My birthday on what was actually a time of pagan festival. Although I do appreciate being remembered anytime.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of their own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth, just GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

Now, having said that, let Me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town. How true -- how true!

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish. I actually spoke of that one in a teaching, explaining who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks were. If you have forgotten that one, look up John 15:1-8.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth, here is My wish list. Choose something from it:

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know -- they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing George complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice for him to hear from you again.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down there. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5. Pick someone who has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take his or her own life this season because this person feels so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who this person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile. It could make the difference between life and death.

7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas," that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day, they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with families.

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love and Good News to those who have never heard My name.

9. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Salvation Army or some other charity which believes in Me and they will make the delivery for you.

10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of Mine.

Don't forget -- I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work -- time is short.

I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court.

And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love -- and remember Me.

I love you,

Jesus

You know, politicos, eventually you're gonna get the idea that the taxpayers are more than just a little bit tired of paying and paying and paying and paying for your antics.

Like being a corrupt politician.

The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel got records under Wisconsin's open-records law that shows former state congressman Scott Jensen can cash in insurance credits worth about $70,000 when he reaches his 55th birthday.

Other corrupted assemblymen -- Chuck Chvala and Gary George and Steven Foti are eligible for $60,000 each in health insurance.

Another corruptee, Bonnie Ladwig, is eligible for $19,000 in insurance credits. Oh, but wait. She says she's not going to use the money.

Yeah, right. Just wait until she gets a bill from her lawyer for her appeals.

Another corruptee, Brian Burke, could get about $22,000 in benefits.

Let's see now. If you're working in private industry and you get fired for cause, your health benefits usually end at the last day of the month you were working. I don't think employees get cash for benefit credits.
 
What is that all about?

Personally, I don't see why lawmakers should have any better benefits than the rest of us peons.

Last time I looked at the constitution, we don't have divine rights of kings -- and queens -- in this country. So how come it is that they get to vote these little cream of the crop benefit packages for themselves?!!

##

We watch road graders and caterpillars running all over their little manmade mountains near Charleston when we head south sometimes.

And more than once, I've wondered if they weren't just hanging a bit too precariously onto the dirt. "What if they slipped?" I wondered.

Well, it wasn't in Charleston, Illinois. But in Ft. Myers, Florida, just such a thing happened. The embankment was too steep. The tractor he was driving slipped and tumbled down the hill and tossed him into a lake.

The driver lost his life. He was under water for about a half hour before rescue workers were able to pull him of the lake.

So everytime I pass those workers near Charleston, I'm going to say an extra prayer for their safety. They're packing down an embankment that's going to have concrete slopes that will have I-beams resting on it for the overpass. The embankment is very steep. Looks to be about forty-five degrees to me.

It just doesn't look safe to this overprotective mom/grandma.

##

That would be Rep. Alcee Hastings, D-Florida.

Hastings was first elected to Congress in 1992.

The FBI had kind of caught him doing some naughty bribery stuff in 1983. Not exactly sure what. But since he was a judge, he managed his own defense. Some of his judicial buddies say he fabricated his defense.

The House of Representatives impeached him in 1988.

Then in 1997 the Justice Department found an agent had falsely testified against him. The case was never reopened though.

So now Madam Queen Speaker-of-the-House-to-Be Pelosi appears to be reneging on her political promise to appoint Hastings to chair the House Intelligence Committee.

Pelosi's big out is that she promised to clean the House. We just can't have a impeached anything in such a powerful position like committee chair since Pelosi promised all that reform. It would just look too much like business as usual. So it has to at least look like she's going to keep her dustpan handy.

So let's see. What might Hastings be able to do? It appears that he knows a lot about the judicial system. And all its ins and outs. That makes about as much sense as his chairing something like intelligence.

Oh, politics!

##

If you're mailing a package overseas to your favorite military person, the U.S. Post Office says the deadline is December 11 if the final destination is Afghanistan or Iraq.

For packages with a destination inside the U.S., the deadline is December 13 for parcel post.

You can wait a bit longer if you're sending first class. That deadline is December 18.

But if you're really going to put things off, then you can ship priority by December 20. After that, you're going to pay a bundle for express mail with a deadline of December 22, to guarantee a delivery by Christmas.

So hurry.

Get those cards and letters in the mail.

##

And pretty soon, to paraphrase Will Rogers, you're talking about real money.

The retail market for hip-hop fashionwear now tops out at $500 billion. That's what U.S. teens are willing to spend on clothes. These hopefuls are shelling it out to look like their favorite rappers.

That's a lot of moola.

I'm not about to make any comment about the teen's fashion sense. I'm way too old to be even close to relevant.

The only thing I care about is that their butts are covered and their boobs aren't trying to escape out of their clothes. Other than that, I don't care how much they spend.

I do find it curious, though, that the price tag so far for the war in Iraq is somewhere around $300 billion.

That figure does not include a new request going before congress for an additional $150 billion in emergency funding for the war.

But even so, the $300b + $150B for war funding doesn't yet equal brand new teen duds that are intentionally designed to look as if they'd been thrown down the attic stairs, or been beaten on a rock in the Tigris River for two days straight. Why in the world would you want to buy something that has fake worn-out holes in the legs! And frayed cuffs!

For sure, that $150 billion request for new funding in Iraq won't be the end of it. Especially since the United Nations Security Council voted unanimously yesterday to keep international coalition forces in Iraq for another year.

Haven't heard the response yet from Sen. Carl Levin, D-Michigan, who said on Monday (11/27/06) at a press conference, that the White House should commence the phased redeployment of U.S. troops from Iraq in four to six months.

##

Some of us are vitally interested in the royal princes.

Like the fact that Prince Williams' most wonderful friend Kate Middleton is probably about to receive the coveted honorable invite to Queen Herself's Christmas luncheon at Sandringham Castle. Actually, Kate could be invited to spend the whole entire day at the castle.

That would be a big deal first time that an unmarried partner would get such an invitation.

My, oh my.

Could this mean that the royal monarchy is thawing just a bit?

I, for one, never did think they were cold and aloof. They just sleep in big drafty houses that were built at the turn of the century -- the tenth century, that is.

So everyone is atwitter in jolly old England. Thoughts of another royal wedding are heavy into speculation. One cup manufacturer has already ordered 100,000 commemorative thingeys that will be pressed into sales lots as soon as -- or if -- the love birds become a Royal Couple.

Right now the cups just have their cute little pictures on them. Woolworths, the giant retailer in Britain, would like to put a little gold date on the mugs and ship them out to shops for sale.

Wouldn't it be loverly?

At least that's what Sir Robin Wales says about it all.

My, my. He says Londoners are "too lazy" to get up before 11 am to go to work at the Olympics. I'd just like to know how Borat missed giving this guy a starring role in The Movie!

Keep in mind that this is the same guy who says he's the leader of the council and is responsible for all Newham Council's services, like education, housing, leisure and parks. He also says he has an ambitious vision for this borough, and that's because Newham's people are ambitious and forward-looking too.

And then there was Valerie Forde of London, who is one of Wales' volunteers who says she got up many early mornings -- 4 or 5 sm -- to support Hizzoner's initiatives and events.

Forde says she, like many of the other volunteers, are all professionals working long hours in their careers.

So, Sir Robin, it doesn't sound like all your constituents are looking for the handouts. Or that they are all loafing about. Or that they are all too lazy to get out of bed.

It seems like you might want to build some bridges with your volunteers. How are you ever going to get re-elected without the help of an army of volunteers. At the very least, you could be a little bit more grateful.

It's just a thought. Would you agree?

Box office revenue for the Thanksgiving weekend puts Happy Feet in first place with $37.9m in ticket sales.

Other films in the Top Ten box office draw, in descending order, are:

Casino Royale -- $31.0m
Deja Vu -- $20.8 m
Deck the Halls -- $12.0m
Borat -- $10.4m
Santa Claus 3 -- $10.0m
Stranger than Fiction -- $6.0m
Flushed Away -- $5.8m
Bobby -- $4.9m
The Fountain -- $3.7m

Several years ago, our daughters sent Quint and me to Hawaii for our 25th anniversary.

We had this beautiful room on the eleventh floor of the Halukalani Hotel overlooking Waikiki Beach. On the very first morning of our vacation, there was lots and lots of commotion out in the water.

We had a front row seat on the balcony where we were sitting with our morning coffee.

There were helicopters galore. And lots of boats grabbing simmers out of the water. "What in the world is going on down there?" Miss Snoopy asked as Quint shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know."

Later we found out that this was the day of the annual swim from Diamondhead to some point down the beach.

The problem is the swim meet should have been called off. The current was too swift. There were boats out there in the water throwing life preservers to the swimmers and dragging them to the beach for safety. We saw some swimmers getting rescued by helicopters.

It was very exciting and fortunately, everyone made it to safety.

Not so, this last week when a nineteen-year-old got swept away by a big wave off the coast of the Big Island. He was vacationing in Hawaii.

They have signs all over the place in Hawaii to beware of currents. And rip tides.

The problem is, most of us have never encountered a rip tide. Since my swimming is restricted to pools that are lined with concrete -- so as to reduce any threat of encountering snakes -- I do not have to worry about rip tides. In my case, the wild life saves my terrified little life.

But that's not the case for the big, brave swimmers who think they can handle anything. After all, it's just a beach and the water looks calm enough.

Just be careful. Really careful. When you are looking at the water, all you're seeing is the surface. The undercurrent can be deadly.

If you have any reluctance at all, stay in the pool.

Mistake #1: A 17-year-old kid stole a .380 Colt pistol from a patrol car.

Mistake #2: He says he didn't know there was a bullet in the chamber.

Mistake #3: He shot his 16-year-old buddy in the forehead. His buddy died.

What a dumbox! I'm trying real hard to visualize this.

First of all, why would anybody hold a gun that was aimed at someone's forehead?

I've fired guns before. And let me tell you, when you cock the hammer, you can figure out that something is about to happen. If your friend is standing in the line of fire, wouldn't you think any idiot kid would do something else besides pull the trigger? Like maybe point the darned thing at the ground instead of at your so-called friend?

Mistake #4: It seems to me that the state of Florida could find a charge more serious than manslaughter for the 17-year-old who killed his friend.

Did you know that you aren't going to be able to copy those commercial CDs, DVDs and e-books anymore?

And some DVD players will have safeguards built into them so that you won't even be able to play bootleg copies.

Some super dooper high tech technology is in the works from Microsoft that will save us all from pirates roaming around out there selling counterfeit goods from the trunks of their cars at swap meets -- or wherever they sell such pirated booty.

You hardly ever hear of something like this. I mean, these officers are the best of the best to even be considered for duty that includes escorting the presidential motorcade.

Well, there were three of them.

It was Hawaii. A light rain was falling. The roads were slick.

The motorcade was traveling across Hickam Air Force Base. The president was going  to meet troops for breakfast last week. And then the motorcycles lost their grip on the pavement.

The other two officers were treated at the hospital and released. But Steve Favela, an eight-year veteran of the police force, remained in the hospital in critical condition.

Unfortunately, this father of four didn't make it. He died from his injuries.

Some little old lady in her big old Cadillac hit a nine year old girl who darted out in front of the car.
The girl got hit.

Then, realizing that she had hit the child, the 66 year-old driver of the car stopped cold. Right on top of the little girl.

There were some homeless locals standing around on the sidewalk watching the horror unfold.

Get this -- they ran over to the car and pooled their energy -- then whammo -- they lifted the car right up off the little girl. Who is still alive, thanks to the good samaritans who came to her rescue.

The little girl is still in the hospital in serious condition -- an upgrade from the critical condition she was in when the ambulance zoomed her into ER.

And the little old lady? She's frantically upset and being treated by crisis counselors.

And before he saw it, it struck. Seemingly out of nowhere.

Now Hillsborough County Sheriff's Deputy Brandon Parker, 28, is lying in Tampa General Hospital in very, very serious condition. His wife plans a press conference at 3 o'clock this Monday afternoon.

Parker was walking with a friend on a trail at the English Creek Park. His friend, Deputy Jason Bateman, shot the snake. It's dead.

The Eastern Diamondback is the largest rattlesnake in North America.

It's absolutely the ugliest thing you'd ever want to see. Unless, of course, you're looking at the Western Diamondback. Also ugly.

The Eastern Diamondback grows from 3' to 8', although their usual adult length is 5 - 6 feet. They weigh about five pounds, when fully developed.

Its favorite trick is ambush. It will lie in a tight curl and just wait for an unsuspecting little mammal to come along. It can sit like that motionless for an entire day -- sometimes even a week. Then, whammo. Down goes the gopher. Or rat. Or rabbit. Or squirrel.

It can strike at 175 mph.

Its home range often will cover as much as 500 acres.

Its pits are so sensitive that it can detect a change in temperature of only a half a degree.

I met a Western Diamondback when I was about six years old. I had just put on a freshly starched little white pinafore to keep my school dress clean. I was running out the kitchen door to school.

Unbeknownst to me, my father -- the great Cherokee Hunter of southwestern Arkansas had killed one of those stupid snakes and had cut its head off and was draining it. That's what he called it when he hung snakes on the tree limb to let all the blood drain out. Then he'd later use the snake to make snake leather for belts and hat bands. He sold his wild and wooly things to Montgomery Wards. Like he did with all the raccoon pelts that he tanned and stacked in our house by the roomful.

Anyway, here comes Little Miss Always-In-A-Hurry Jane. I ran right into the Headless Big Ugly and got his bright red smeery stuff all over my pinafore.

It was a most disturbing scene -- both audio and visually. That was the day I learned to scream really good.

I have been terrified of snakes -- both little and small -- venomous or not -- since that day.

From the time I was a little girl, my father would take my sister, Cookie, my brother Al, and I with him to run his trotlines. He was adamant about us always watching where we put our feet. "Watch out for snakes," he'd say.

But if a snake can strike at 175 miles an hour, it wouldn't have mattered. Who would have a chance?


UPDATE: The snake is dead. Parker is expected to make a full recovery, according to his wife, Courtney. The snake was six feet long.

Parker and his buddy had only hiked into the trail for about 50 yards when the snake bit him in the leg.

Ouch.

Just moving to Idaho is far enough. Moving from warm, sunny climes to brrrrrish cold Idaho must seem like penance for something. You know it's too cold when distance from the Canadian border is measured only in double digits.

We pray for you, and your brothers and sister, every morning -- now we'll bump up our daily petitions to several times. For travel safety and warmth. And a warm, loving husband to greet you when you get back to your cozy home. That would be Rick.

We haven't hit really cold weather here in Illinois yet -- either in Tinley Park or Effingham. My sister, Cookie,  in Evergreen Park says it was 45 degrees the other day. We enjoyed 68 degrees. That was good because I was still blowing leaves around.

I made the Mt. Everest of leaf piles and Quint torched it.

There is not a single, solitary leaf on our lawn. Then, just to be neighborly, I started air raking our next door neighbor's yard. She's in a nursing home for now. Got her front yard done and part of the back yard.

Then I found a hole I'd rubbed in my hand. Guess if I didn't have enough sense to take a break, Mother Nature would get my attention. So now I'm recuperating until my owie gets better.


SO NOW, ONTO BIGGER THINGS

THE GETTY IS IN TROUBLE. The Getty is an art museum in Los Angles. Years ago, when daughter Teri was still a Californian, she took Quint and me to The Getty on an excursion. The Van Gogh exhibit was there. I'm not sure if Van Gogh is a permanent display or if this was a special deal. There were lots of his iris paintings.

Van Gogh spent the last year of his life in an asylum until his tragically premature death. So, being an artist, he painted and painted and painted. The asylum had lots of iris beds so that's what he painted.

He is to irises what Monet is to water lilies.

But now -- apparently, The Getty has some of Italy's antiquities. And Italy wants all 46 looted paintings back. The Italian Culture Minister, Francesco Rutelli, says Italy is on a campaign to get back its antiquities that have been sold illegally around the world. 


MORE FROM BIRMINGHAM, ALA: Remember the Lt. Governor who was rushed to the hospital last Thursday?

I would not have wanted to be the chef for that family dinner. Guilt coming out of my ears. Did I cook the Thanksgiving Beast long enough? Could it have been food poisoning? But no one else got sick.

Well, it turns out much more serious than that. Lt. Gov. Baxley suffered a stroke last Wednesday before she even showed up for the Turkey fest with family and friends. Remember her in your prayers.


WHOEVER STOLE THE LOOKING GLASS, PLEASE BRING IT BACK!

Actually, it was a letter that Lewis Carroll wrote to a friend way back in 1890. It came up missing from Yale University's valuables department and somehow ended up on e-Bay. For sale, of all things!

The fake owner who put it up for auction returned it to the Yalies when he learned it was stolen, so all's well that ends well.

Whoever sold it to him may be in a bit of trouble, though.

Caveat emptor warns about stuff life that. You have to know who's selling you stuff and if they can't give you a Bill of Sale or an invoice, beware. It could be stolen goods. In most states, it's illegal to receive stolen goods.

Just so you know.


GEE, WHAT A THOUGHT!

The superintendent of schools in Washington, D.C. says he wants to replace principals and teachers at nearly a half-dozen schools failing schools.

So, what's he saying? Teachers aren't teaching, maybe?

Teachers blame parents and parents blame teachers.

Who loses? The children who aren't learning, that's who.

Oh, sure -- there are some kiddos who learn in spite of their teacher -- not because of them. But for the most part, students need teachers there to explain things to them. And if the teachers don't understand the subject matter, there is one huge big problem.

As far as the parents are concerned, students need to be doing homework every night. I'd say for at least an hour. And for those little darlings who swear by all that's holy that they don't have any homework, I'd have a little packet of work I'd pull out and have them work on. At the kitchen table where I could watch.

But then, Sharon and Teri sometimes thought they were horribly deprived because there was no TV turned on during the school week. Somehow they got through childhood none the worse for wear.

So parents, listen up. Sometimes you gotta be parents.


I DID NOT KNOW THAT GENERAL GRANT ONCE HAD A MILITARY CAMP AT MATTOON, ILLINOIS

You would think something would have dawned on me when I pass the U.S. Grant Motel on U.S. 45, but then he was a famous person. There's even a Scotch named after him. Maybe it was his drink of choice. He was know to tip a few, if I read the gossip columns of history correctly.

Anyway, sure enough Grant had a military encampment in Mattoon. Problem it, the old flagpole that has stood on the library lawn for years and years and years finally bit the dust and the library board says it needs to be replaced.

I need to get up to Mattoon one of these days and check that out. Home Depot is no longer the only reason to go to Mattoon.


BUILDING MORE PRISONS?

Did you know that the national average of spending for prison and justice department programs is now at $228 per person in the U.S.? That's the per capita annual tax load.

I did not know that. But I did know that it costs about $58,000 a year just to maintain one inmate on death row. That's an old figure. It's probably a lot more than that now.

In Nevada, however, that spending-per-person is $147. That's one of the lowest figures in the country.

But not for long. Nevada prison people want about $268 million from the state legislature for five construction projects. That sounds like more brick and mortar stuff to me.

That they'd better tell that Officer Real Friendly down in Las Vegas to keep his pants on so the Dept. of Corrections won't have to keep buying him squad cars and other cop stuff.


DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE ARE 37 MILLION BLOGS OUT THERE. All the more reason for me to be extremely grateful that you are reading mine. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! And Quint loves you too.


CAUTION: DO NOT SHOOT ANYTHING WEARING AN ELECTRIC ORANGE CAP. IT IS NOT A DEER!

Be careful out there. In Pennsylvania alone, some 900,000 people will be heading after white tailed four-legged creatures, hoping to bag the big one.

It's the beginning of the deer season, so be careful. Every year some hunters get killed.

So here are a few Reinheimer Rules.

If it's rustling twigs up in a tree, it's not a deer. Don't shoot.

If it's wearing those electric orange or yellow or red hats, it's not a deer. Don't shoot.


HEY -- HOW ABOUT MOVING IT TO NEVADA?

Texas has an old prison in Sugar Land, that's not been used for decades. There had been threats just to knock the darned thing down but I guess that's not going to happen. The Texans are thinking about using the prison site as some kind of development.

After all, it is sitting on 2,000 acres near Houston.

I still think it would be a right neighborly thing to do if they just moved the old building to Nevada. Apparently they need more jails out in the desert state. Maybe Nevada could take some of their brick-and-mortar money and move the Texas jail.

That way, Nevada would only have to fund four construction projects.


POLITICIANS CAN ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO ZING TAXPAYERS

In Wisconsin, when they retire legislatures can claim all the sick pay they didn't use.

This amounts to some $3.2 million.

How nice. So even though they are not always present when the legislature is in session, they never actually claim sick pay. They just aren't there.

I'll bet their secretaries and mail clerks and office staff and gardeners and maids and dusters and state house polishers and trash-emptiers can't get away with that.

Don't they take a roll call? Seems like the Personnel Department ought to get over to the state house and see just who's there and who's not.

Let's see -- the rule is if you didn't pre-apply for vacation days, then you must be sick. Then you get a sick day charged to your time.

That sounds fair.

No? Then you're a dirty rotten bum sticking it to the taxpayers again.


And that takes care of my traveling about the U.S. for today.

Hello, Robin. Robin is my niece who lives in Dallas, Texas. She is my sister's daughter. Her voice is a welcome one at the other end of the line when she says, "Hello, Aunt Jane..."

So Robin -- today's blog is for you.

I'm still taking my tour around the US, zeroing in on some pretty funny headlines from USA Today the other day.

There was this story from Las Vegas, Nevada. It's about a corrections officer -- like maybe a probation officer or a jail guard. The article didn't say. Anyway, this officer kind of "lost" his uniform, badge, handgun and car. They were stolen. Right out from under him. Literally.

He probably wasn't supposed to be having sex with a prostitute even if prostitution is legal in Nevada. Actually, I think Clark County (where Las Vegas is located) is the only county in Nevada where prostitution is not legal.

But no matter. The prostitute was underage. That means making naughties is illegal all by itself. Not only that, but the officer was caught on tape (with the teenager/prostitute buying condoms at a nearby store). Then they went into the alley behind the store and got kind of busy doing other things that apparently didn't have anything to do with corrections officering.

Then while they were very busy, his squad car was stolen.

Tsk. Tsk. Busted!


More cop stories. This one from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Up until just recently, all the rolling fleet had global positioning devices in the squad cars. This was so that the dispatchers could tell where all the roving police officers were in case there were emergencies that needed tending to.

Some of the officers said that the GPS is a way to keep tabs on them.

Well, yeah.

And why wouldn't it be okay for the dispatcher to know where all the on-duty officers are at any given moment?

So, the Officer Friendlies in Miwaukee figured out that they could used a little aluminum foil to disable the GPS devices.

Now, you don't suppose there's any chance at all that the officers in Milwuakee might just be too busy doing other things, do you?


In Iowa, it started out as a great idea. The Planned Parenthood of Greater Iowa says it's going to give away 2,000 morning after pills throughout the state next month. They want to get the word out that the morning after pill is now available.

Problem is, they're only going to give away 2,000. After that, you'd need a rain check.

To say the least, I'd say. They're going to need more than a rain check. Like maybe booties, don't you think?


Minnesota is trying to make students better at math. The fourth-graders will be required to take Algebra I by the end of 8th grade.

And they'll have to take Algebra II before they get out of high school

My question is -- how long do the fourth graders stay in fourth grade?


But then again, Kentucky says that 53% of all the students coming into its public colleges and universities have to take some kind of remedial courses. The lawmakers in Kentucky are trying to figure out how to make students do better.

Like requiring students to study, maybe? How do they legislate that?

Maybe Kentucky students are stuck in Algebra I, like their buddies up north in Minnesota.

In Minnesota, fourth graders have four years to get through this tough course.


And with that, we are headed back to finish blow drying our lawn's green grass. Actually we are finished with our yard. What we're doing now is getting rid of the leaves in our next door neighbor's yard.

She went into a nursing home a day before her 90th birthday shortly after we bought our house. She fell and broke a rib, I think. Even if she were able to come home before the snow flies, she'd be in no shape to rake her leaves.

Next, we're going to go up and down the block to see if other neighbors would like us to rake their leaves. Our new electric rake leaf blower isn't broke in yet and the novelty hasn't worn off.

And tomorrow is Sunday. A day of worship and rest and refreshment. Sunday is the day when one week ends and another one begins. It's also the day when Quint and I head to church to join our friends in worship.

We'll be back on Monday.

USA Today readers have voted and the results are in!

Arizona's Grand Canyon has been named the 8th Wonder of the World.

You need to know that to make your Friday after Thanksgiving a complete newsday. Maybe. The other titillating piece of newsgoody is that Penelope Cruz is probably sitting for designer dress fittings for Oscar night. She sure hopes that Volver will get her a little gold guy. It's a movie about hardship and tragedy. And to top if off, she gets to wear a fake big butt bottom. Now that translates into Oscar for me. Plus, it only grossed $680,896 in its initial limited release. I think the starzies like to give each other Oscars when their buddies' movies don't do all that well. It's kind of like a consolation prize.

Gut-wrenching Babel took all of four weeks to make $12 million. Good old Brad Pitt maybe ought to turn in his sexiest man alive trophies (he got two years) for acting lessons.

Borat, on the other hand, has grossed $90 million in its first three weeks. Maybe Brad Pitt ought to try his hand at playing a nitwit. Toilet humor Flushed Away only took in $48 million in three weeks. Even the dangling chain beat out Brad.

King Nicholson in The Departed topped out at $114 million in seven weeks. Can't find him in theaters anymore, so I'm guessing he'll be in Christmas stockings for the remainder of this film's funrun.

Russell Crowe's A Good Year only grossed out at $6 million. That's pretty paltry. Just goes to show you that when you toss a phone at a a serving staff person in a hotel your career tanks. So saying you're sorry would be enhanced if you checked yourself into an anger management rehab place.

I have an idea. How about all these big screen idiots try doing something useful with their lives instead of sitting around designing their $40,000 dresses and figuring out which villa they're gonna stay in because they're bored with the Hollywood scene.

And if you don't want photogs taking your picture anymore, go to Namibia. And stay there. You're boring Quint and me.

Obviously, I'm not a movie critic. I'm too busy painting the kitchen cabinets (still) and blowing leaves in the yard (we got half of them blown and torched yesterday afternoon).

My idea of a great movie star is the late Anne Bancroft -- especially in Charing Cross Road with Anthony Hopkins. I also like Peter O'Toole -- especially in A Lion in Winter with Katherine Hepburn. O'Toole has been nominated for the big O no less than seven times, but has yet to win. He's hoping to this year. O'Toole did get one honorary Oscar. What is that?!!

So this year, O'Toole plays an old geezer thespian who is trying to woo a nineteen year old into some kind of romance. Hey, that's just almost not legal. Guess guys always dream of high energy in their later years. Im just wondering if O'Toole is really acting all that much. It's not a movie that I'd spend ten bucks to see.

The Russian spy died, by the way. Doctors in intensive care in London are not real sure why. Quint has an idea -- suspected polonium would probably do it. We had a long conversation last night about the deadliness of thallium. I also learned a lot of exciting new things about many other chemical elements in some kind of table.

Madame Curie named the element after Poland, her native land. Polonium is pretty deadly stuff. It's also readioactive. It's also found in smoke detectors. It's an ionizing medium -- whatever that is. That, in a nutshell, is all I know about this chemical of death.

It's at least as bad as rattlesnake venom. Because of that, it should be avoided by anyone who values life of self.

Speaking of table, there was something in Alabama that didn't set well with the Lt. Guv. She was rushed to the hospital after enjoying the Thanksgiving Beast with family and friends in Birmingham. She'll spend a couple of days being medically surveiled, running tests and what-nots.
So why don't you just do the honorable thing and just quit, you goofball!! That is, city alderman in Newport, Arkansas, Pinkey McFarlin. He pled guilty to conspiracy to distribute crack cocaine. But here's the rub. The very soonest that the mayor can get him out of office is December 28. Pinkey's term expires at the end of the year.

So -- here's something new to add to the list of people never to vote for -- people whose name is Pinkey -- and people whose eyebrows meet in the middle.

Here's another one for the "Just say you're sorry" notebook. It happened in Los Angeles -- Carson High School, specifically. Seems that an article was published in the school newspaper that compared a group of rowdy black students at a fast food restaurant to a "pack of monkeys." The high school officials apologized. They said -- get this -- that an article is written anonymously each month by one of the paper's top editors.

The paper could make everybody use a by-line. When I was doing journalism classes in high school at the Paducah (Kentucky) Tilghman Bell, it was a really big deal to get a by-line. It would seem to me that -- in the very first place -- that kind of observation does not even deserve a thimble full of printer's ink -- but in the second place -- if you're going to make really stupid observations, put your name on it. 

Then you could stand in front of your house that's freshly painted pink and yellow and purple and say, "Golly gee, now who do you think could be mad at me." And after that, the roving Picassos could just shrug and say they were sorry and that they didn't know what got into them.

Kind of like Seinfeld's Richards for his non-so-funny rant the other night.

Just say you're sorry. It's the American way. You've been busted! Just remember, cell phones are everywhere. Snap. Snap.

So quick picking your noses at red lights. And roll your windows up if you insist on singing when you can't carry a tune in a bucket. 

When we arrived in Effingham, we were greeted by our little feathered friends who were practically waiting for us with knife and fork in hand. Last week we filled up a bird feeder by the back door. Put out nearly 8 pounds of grub for the little feathers. They almost ate it all.

The word went out across the feather-waves that for a good time, come to the Reinheimers. There's plenty for all!

So we are on our way to Wal-Mart for more bird chow. We're particularly partial to songbirds, like Cardinals.

There were beautiful bright red Cardinals posted as lookouts. They probably recognized our car, since it is also red. They must think our Focus is some kind of hugely humongous red bird.

I don't know much about other birds -- can recognize a sparrow and a Cardinal and a Hummingbird, Blue Jay, and Woodpecker. All the other birds are Dowdy Birds (if you're a female anything), and Puff Birds (if you're cold.) Even a sparrow turns into a puff bird and gets to be about the size of a small eagle when it's shivering.

The guy birds are the prettiest. Mother Nature gives them the fanciest outfits.

Anyway, there's just about enough food left for them to have a nice brunch. Then we'll be back with more vittles.

Our other big adventure for the morning was finding a WI-FI place so that I could post this blog. Wouldn't want to disappoint any of you who might wonder what the silly Reinheimers are up to in Effingham. There are several WI-FI places in Effingham although they're closed for Thanksgiving. Doesn't matter. We can slurp up the wiffy waves from their parking lot. Yay.

Then, after a big Thanksgiving lunch, I'm going to get back at the leaves. Still have about a half acre of leaves to corral. Then I'm going to torch them. Smells like childhood to me.

We hope you're having a great Thanksgiving. Be careful with the turkey. It's loaded with tryptophan, you know.

Tryptophan may sound like Superman stuff but it isn't. Rather, it's the active ingredient in many sleep aids, which is why you always want to take a nap after Thanksgiving dinner.

And you probably thought it was all that pumpkin pie.

Catch you later.

Jane

Aren't the holidays great?

All those festive, mood-enhancing hugs and kisses at the top of the love pyramid. Stress-free living for one entire day. Wouldn't it be great?

There are two neat little tricks that you can do right now -- today -- to help make your holiday stress free no matter who's screaming and yelling around you.

I know. I know. Some of you have irritable teeny boppers running around your house, full of little ego-popping naughty words.

Makes Norman Rockwell look like a fibber.

But if you are reading this, you are coming down to the wire. The big bird is waiting for you. Glowering at you every time you open the refrigerator. Hoping you'll pick someone else to cook. "Hey, how about the pork roast," the turkey shouts. "Or the ham. People like ham. Choose someone else."

"Nope," you say. "All twenty-one pounds of your lovely mound of flesh is going to hit the roasting pan. So just keep your feeble little ant-size brain's opinion to yourself."

And about that time, someone is bound to come into the kitchen. "Hey, mom, who are you talking to?"

At this point, the safest thing for you to do is deny that you are talking to a dead bird sitting in your refrigerator. There's just no sense in going into this holiday season looking like you have three heads.

Take deep breaths. If you do it right and breathe from the diaphragm, you can actually stop the production of those stress chemicals that get pumped out of your adrenal glands. You can tell if you're breathing from the diaphragm if you put your open palm on your tummy and when you inhale your tummy pooches out.

If your shoulders are lifting up as if you suddenly became six inches taller, you are not breathing from your diaphragm. The object of diaphragm breathing is to get the pressure off the organs in the middle of your body. Especially the adrenal glands which are sitting up there on top of your kidneys.

Now you only need five or six good deep breaths to get you calmed down again. So close your eyes, think pleasant thoughts of a nice sunny beach somewhere -- preferably a place where you had a good time and didn't get bit by anything.

Like those microscopic fire ants on a beach on Sanibel Island. Or Ft. Lauderdale.

Think of something wonderful -- like an adoring husband who rubs your back down with slathery stuff, then dashes off to get you another sippy smoothie to add to your umbrella collection.

The next trick in conquering the stressors-on-patrol is to lower your expectations. I mean really lower them. It is, after all, the holidays.

For high holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, I try to get my expectations as close to zero as I can.

I say things to myself like:

No one's coming over.
Everyone will be late.
People will forget it's Thanksgiving.
No one will bring the side dishes they volunteered to make.
The turkey will burn.
The turkey won't be done.
I'll forget to put all the food out. (I forgot the cranberry sauce one year.)
Guests will put on phony manners and say a lot of insincere stuff.
Guests will be rude and insulting.
Quint will disappear when I need his help.
Quint will be my shadow and I'll trip over him all day.
Everybody will be standing in the doorway when I'm trying to move food from the kitchen to dining room.
Everybody will eat too much.
No one will eat anything.

That just about covers my expectations.

I like to put the bird into the oven about midnight. I let it cook at 250 degrees until I get up about 6 am. Then I bump the temperature up to 350 and cook the turkey until it's done. I do not rely on those little popper things. Instead, I pull my handy dandy little meat thermometer out of the back of the junk drawer in my kitchen and cook the turkey until the "fowl" temperature is met.
 
Then, if you've put sugar into your pumpkin pie -- the magic ingredient I happened to have forgotten one year -- you'll have a great day.

It's open season on the holidays. Just think, you can go shopping on Friday. And work yourself up into an absolute frenzy by December 24. J

ust do yourself a big favor -- wrap the presents as you buy them. Otherwise, you're going to be up until dawn on Christmas morning.

Changing the subject, I have to tell you about the devotional series that I'll be putting on the blog starting December 3. December 3rd is the first day of Advent. So there will be an additional blog each day starting in Advent.

Advent is a time of preparation for the birth of Jesus Christ. The blog devotionals will give us something to think about as we ready ourselves for the real reason that we celebrate Christmas in the first place.

Bon Appetit!

Think -- deep breaths. And I call the drumstick.

Jane

The simplest solution of all would be to get to the airport the night before and just camp out. That could be a wonderful adventure -- unless you're traveling with the kiddos.

Quint and I are lucky, in a way. O'Hare Airport has about a half a zillion little restaurants. From the time we step into the airport proper until we actually get to the gate, we could graduate from small little chest twinges to a full-blown coronary just by looking at all the fast-food, not-good-for-you little mini-meals.

To reduce the amount of stressors that hassles with security gate people can cause, we try to arrive at the airport at least three hours early. We plan this arrival into the concept of our traveling adventure.

At O'Hare Airport, we go through a lot of screenings -- all in the name of security -- so I'm not complaining. It's just one of the things we are willing to give up so that we can fly without fear of falling out of the sky because some idiots hauled out red bandanas from their pockets and started running around the cabin screaming that they were going to paradise and taking us along as uninvited guests.

Nope. I'll just shut my big fat mouth and go through the pre-screening. That's where TSA separates out people who truly need to be on the "No Fly List" and us. We get those big SSSSSs down in the right hand corner of our ticket when we print it out at the ticket kiosk. (I have it on good authority that there are about 40,000 names on the current "No Fly List.")

The extra Ss don't mean we're extra special. It means we need to be scrutinized. We made the unthinkable error once by purchasing a one-way ticket to Kansas City when my mom was in the hospital and we weren't sure when we'd be returning. Actually, we had round trip tickets. We just weren't booked on a return flight.

Who knows but what Grandma and Grandpa here might have been going to Cow Town to blow something up. One can never be too sure.

So we get invited over to a corner by TSA agents who are young enough to be our grandchildren. They apologize when they have us stand there as if we were figureheads adorning the front of the Titanic, while they "wand" us down. They try to tell us that the Ss are put on tickets by a totally random selection.

Nonsense. For us, it's 100% of the time. How random is that?

Once we clear that screening, we proceed to the next stop. That's Checkpoint #1. This is where we take off our shoes and walk in stocking feet. We get our shoes back when it's absolutely for sure certain that we don't have any little bomb-making pieces hidden in the souls, or explosives anywhere.

Now we get to go through the metal detector. We've already taken our glasses off. And belts, if we wore them. And rings and bracelets and other silly stuff we've worn because we weren't thinking "metal."

From now on, all my travel jewelry is going to be plastic. It will add a new chic to my look.

This is also where Quint gets a new pocketknife. He never remembers to leave his stabbing equipment at home. And since he's been carrying a little pocketknife since he was about nine years old, it's part of his body weight. The last ten pocketknives he's purchased have all said "Welcome to Chicago."

After the great fun we have at the metal detector, we proceed to the puffer gate. I'm not for sure what this is but I think it may be part of a cataract detection system that the optometrists lobbied for. They have a strong lobby in Washington, you know.

After it's determined that I do not have cataracts, we proceed to -- you guessed it -- the Secondary Screening.

Sometimes this is where the wanding down or patting down takes place. It depends. In a big airport like O'Hare where no one is in much of a hurry, we could get wanded twice. What a thrill.

Then, finally, we get to go to the Departure Gate. Even after all that, some 25% of all dangerous stuff is missed by the wandings, puffings, and patting-downs.

But they never miss Quint's boyhood tool, his pocketknife.

We check in at the gate. We always do this just to let the airline know that we are in the building and they should not let the plane take off without us.

Finally, we get to have breakfast, or lunch, or something in between. It depends on what time our flight is supposed to leave.

Then I buy about three newspapers to read on the plane. Quint has a book. We get a fresh cup of coffee and go back to our gate and try to figure out which one of the persons is the air marshall who's been assigned to protect us during flight.

Since I'm the psychologist, Quint lets me win. He hates it when I mope. Actually, since I'm the paralegal, I present a stronger argument. But then, on the other hand, since Quint is the scientist, he thinks his lab skills make him a better observer. We pool our resources and come up with one or two sure-fire candidates. Mind you, we never test our observations by actually going up to our suspected-marshall-on-board to introduce ourselves. We just surveil our suspect for the entire flight.

We amuse ourselves like a couple of three year olds until the time to board -- about five minutes later.

Then we go to our seats and sit there for another forty-five minutes because planes never depart on time.

Happy Thanksgiving.

So what's the big deal about having a good FICO score -- and, for that matter, what is FICO anyway?

All three credit reporting agencies have your number. Your FICO number, that is.

FICO is a brain child, if you will, of an organization called Fair Isaac. When loan officers talk about FICO scores, they are all talking about the same thing. Credit payment history.

The national average FICO is 678.

Anything between 760 and 850 is super dooper excellent. That puts you at the top of the heap.

How that translates into money for you means that the better your FICO score, the better interest rate you qualify for.

If you want to borrow $300,000 for a mortgage, then with a high FICO, you'd qualify for a 5.8% loan. Or, if your FICO was between 620-659 (which puts you in a risky category for credit worthiness), about the best you could hope for would probably be in the range of 7.2%.

Big big difference.

So let's say you've been sailing along -- kind of goofing off a bit here and there. Not too worried about your FICO.

After all, you're just out of college and you've had a little bit more fun than you should have with the MasterCard and Visa. Maybe you've told yourself that you're young and have lots of time to correct credit mistakes you've made.

Maybe you hadn't even heard of FICO until yesterday when you got the bad news on a car loan application that your rate would be 8.2% because your FICO was low -- like 590.

What are some quick fixes to get your FICO boosted up there?

Unfortunately, there aren't exactly any quick fixes.

The people who move money around like to have access to your credit history. For years and years and years. Any naughty stuff you've done, like not paid your bills on time -- to the point where your creditors have had to get a collection agency to make you pay back money you asked them to loan you -- will stay on your report for a long time.

Collection agency stuff stays on your credit reports for seven years or so.

The very best thing you can do, right now, this month is to pay your bills on time. All your bills. And pay them on time each and every month. Fair Isaac likes that. And he'll be kinder to you if you develop this kind of credit habit.

You don't do yourself any favors, either, by keeping your credit cards maxed out. That brings your FICO down.

And when you're walking through the mall, don't open an account at each and every store you go into. I don't care if they offer you a 10% discount. Having a bunch of credit cards open is going to make your FICO score sink like a rock.

Even when you close a credit card account, the payment history stays on your credit report.

Quint and I have credit card accounts that we've paid off fifteen years ago. The report is still out there. Fortunately, in the payment history column there are all "1s." That means we paid the account each and every month. What you don't want in that column are "2s" and "3s." That would mean you were making payings every other month (every 2nd month = a 2) or every third month (every 3rd month = a 3).

While you may be able to get an account open -- like that $300,000 mortgage, it could mean that instead of paying the best interest rate of 5.886%, you'd be paying 9.134% instead.

That's a difference of $1,777 at the 5.886% and $2,443 at the 9.134% rate.

Your good credit score is worth more than $600 a month for that mortgage payment.

What's worse, I just read an article last week about insurance companies being able to check your credit report so that they could set your insurance premium rate. A great hue and cry went out through the greenback community and then the insurance companies all said -- at the same time -- oh, we would never do a thing like that!

I categorically, emphatically say, "Yeah, right."

House Speaker-elect Nancy Pelosi has made a most interesting promise to develop her agenda of getting us in the middle-class out of our financial squeeze.

So how's she gonna do this and what's her plan?

She says she's going to try to see to it that bills are passed that will raise the minimum wage.

She wants to cut interest rates for student loans.

And she wants to do something with Medicare that will somehow mean lower drug prices for seniors.

Interestingly enough, what isn't on her agenda is a return of the military draft. Charlie Rangel, D-New York, has been tauting and shouting this as his agenda.

I, for one, get really worried when anyone from the government says they're going to help me. Somehow it always ends up costing me a wheelbarrow full of money.

And I don't know what this guy from New York is talking about. One minute, the Dems are talking about reducing the size of the military and pulling out of Iraq post-haste. The next time we hear them talking, they want a military draft because we're going to need a lot more soldiers if we have to go into Iran and Syria.

Huh? Where did that come from?

And then there's Mr. Hard-to-Understand, Henry Kissinger. He says a military victory is not possible in Iraq. I find that hard to believe.

If you look up "military might" in the dictionary, you see a picture of the United States. We are the biggest and the best.

If Mr. H-T-U Kissinger thinks the American military is a bunch of babies who can't fight a war, he needs to go watch "Flags of Our Fathers."

The American military is second to none!

That makes me feel safer a nights, just knowing our navy is on patrol. Just knowing our air force is flying over. Just knowing our army is walking the walk. And just knowing our marines have our hearts in their hearts.

Every single freedom we enjoy, we owe mightily to the men and women who serve in our armed forces. They keep our freedom alive and working well.

And there you have it from one lonely little voice out here in the heartland.

It was a long, hot summer.

In Ada, Oklahoma, that means that the pecan harvest will be delayed until about mid-December. Naturally, a smaller and delayed harvest is going to translate into more money for nut lovers everywhere.

The price of pecans has jumped from $7.25 per pound all the way up to $8.50. There's "only" 20 million pounds to go around to all us fudge makers this Christmas.

That's still a $170 million harvest.

Maybe next year, when Quint and I are finished with our Corn Patrol in Illinois, we could head on over to Oklahoma and do a pro bono Pecan Patrol for them. Maybe shaking a few trees would be helpful.

Then again, maybe the people in Oklahoma would have something to say about a Nut Patrol from Illinois.


SHE WILL ALWAYS BE A LITTLE GIRL. She was not much bigger than a doll herself when her father, President John Kennedy, was assasinated. A display of some 70 dolls that she received as gifts from dignataries around the globe goes on display at the Truman Presidential Museum & Library in Independence, Missouri. The dolls will be on display until March 15.

The Truman Library was one of mom's favorite places to take visiting family and friends when she lived in Warrensburg, Missouri. It is a peaceful place set among towering trees in the local landscape. Our trips out to visit her often included a trip to Truman's library.

Mom was a transplant from Paducah, Kentucky, but oh, how she loved her adopted home state of Missouri.


I SAY WE MAKE DRUNK DRIVERS WEAR PINK JUMP SUITS. The convicted drunk drivers in Tennessee don't like being shamed because their jump suits were supposed to have "I am a Drunk Driver" written on them.

For shame -- too much shame.

Well, okay. When I see orange jump suits, I figure they're all drunk drivers anyway. Maybe they are and maybe they aren't. But until drunk drivers take responsibility for driving when they have too much alcohol in their blood, we aren't going to get anywhere with DUI laws.

I favor the idea of pink jump suits. It's kind of like the Maricopa County Sheriff making the inmates in his jails wear pink boxer shorts. These inmates do their time out in the desert. It's so hot out there that the inmates often strip down to their undies. Pink. They're not going anywhere. And they certainly are not going to take any chances in heading out across a desert that's loaded with inhospitable slithery things like the Diamondback Rattlesnake, which is known to get really big. More than 8' big. With a big bite to match.


THE CHILDREN IN AMERICA ARE DOING WHAT THEY DO BEST -- BEING COMPASSIONATE

Children in the United States raised money by saving their pennies to pay for shipping the Statue of Liberty from France. This is a little known fact that gets lost from our collective memory. Yes, it's true that the children in France raised the money to make the Statue of Liberty. But who knows where the lady of the harbor would have stayed had it not been for all those pennies collected by U.S. schoolchildren.

Now, our little tykes are going to send Christmas cheer to the schoolchildren in Iraq. For the last couple of months, some twenty kindergarten students have been collecting school supplies to send to the children in Iraq.

Okay, so it's a holiday gift, not so much a Christmas gift. It's just that the supplies will arrive about mid-December.

That's kind of Christmassy.


KATE SMITH STILL DOES IT BEST

For those of you whose patriotic hearts swell at the sound of "God Bless America" -- and for those who still feel a tingle of national pride, you can listen to Kate Smith singing this Irving Berlin favorite.

When President Roosevelt introduced Kate Smith to King George VI of England, Roosevelt said, "Miss Smith is America."

Not only that, but in just one hour on CBS radio, Smith sold $107 million in war bonds.

She was truly a national treasure.

It's hard to believe that Elvis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi, in 1935 -- that would make him 72 on his next birthday in January.

I can understand how Tupelo was one of the cities that earned a slot in the finals competition for Elvis Week -- August 11-19 -- but what I don't understand is how Toronto, Canada, got the other slot.

I mean, for the other city, why not Memhis where Graceland is? At least Elvis lived there.

Oh well. This is the first annual Ultimate Elvis Tribute Artist Contest so maybe they'll figure it out next year and keep the festival somewhere in the United States.


I'LL BET YOU WISH I'D GET OFF THIS VOTE SUBJECT -- Some of the legislative races in South Dakota were so narrow that the loser can ask for a recount. Kind of automatically. That would be a margin of some twenty or so votes in Sioux Falls -- and 32 votes in Aberdenn.

I'll just bet you the precinct captains -- for both parties -- are kicking themselves for not picking people up and driving them to the polls. I think this would be a great opportunity to have a pot luck lunch for people who go vote. Make it a big party -- patriotic song singalongs, a warm lunch, red-white-blue desserts, etc. Get a big stretch van and call it a "VOTEMOBILE" and go get people, bring 'em back to a lunch hall of some sort, and then entertain them for a while.

Hey, there's a whole bunch of seniors out there who would enjoy having such an outing for the day.
And since election day is the one day of the year that we apparently don't have the need for separation of church and state, maybe the churches that are the polling places would also consider being a host site for a luncheon.


GOOSE LIVERS MAY BE A DELICACY BUT -- I'M SORRY -- CAPONS ARE NOT

At least not in my book. The Humane Society in New York is suing because foie gras producers do mean things to the birds by force feeding the little darlings so their livers get fat.

Goose fat is not one of my favorite dishes -- although the livers might have been okay before they were tampered with.

But what about the poor rooster who has his little thingeys cut off to fatten up the roosters. I haven't heard about any Humane Society finding fault with that process.

Just ask the rooster how he feels. Being Sunday dinner is bad enough, but do we have to mutilate the animals before we kill them?


DID YOU EVER WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO "TURKEY BYPRODUCTS?" -- Gee, I thought pretty much all of the turkey was there when I bought it. Aren't the byproducts what's in that little bag of secret parts and pieces (that I accidentally left in the bird one year and it got cooked, right along with the rest of the bird and we didn't even die).

The people in Carthage, Missouri, don't care for the way the secret parts and pieces smell. Okay, maybe they're talking about the wet feathers and spindly little turkey legs. Anyway, it must stink pretty bad because a company known as Renewable Environmental Solutions spend more than $3 million on odor controlling equipment. That way, people will quit suing this company because they make the air smell bad.

Hey, you guys should have come over to Chicago when we had the stockyard here. You should have tried driving on Archer Avenue through the Back of the Yards area on a hot summer day without a clothespin for your nose.
 
Besides, what parts of the turkey are renewable, for heavens sake!


UH OH, I'M DETOURING AROUND NEBRASKA -- especially since a new state law allows everybody to carry a concealed handgun starting January 2nd. Governor Heineman just approved the curriculum for classes that will teach people how to carry a handgun properly.

After you take the class (and pass it), then you can go to one of the state police places for a permit. The permit costs $100.

Bullets not included.


NEW LAW IN WISCONSIN: INATTENTIVE DRIVING -- Oh boy. We should have seen this one coming. If you're using your cell phone in Glendale, Wisconsin (a suburb of Milwaukee) you most definitely should not be driving.

If you are talking on the phone and driving and you are in an accident, it will be assumed that the driver who is on the phone is the one at fault. Then you pay a $96 fine. Plus damages to the other vehicle, I'm guessing.

But what if both drivers are on the phone? Then what?

I only mention this because a whole bunch of people from the Chicago area go up the Milwaukee area during football season and baseball season. That's pretty much the whole year, isn't it?


And that's just about a wrap. Tomorrow is Sunday -- a day of worship and a day of the refreshment of rest.

I will be back Monday morning this week since we didn't go to Effingham. We'll be heading down, instead, on Wednesday for Turkey Day.

We all need time to wind down -- to gently nudge ourselves in our different direction.

Abruptness often brings about transition problems as we try to adjust to the world spinning us around too fast.

We see such a quick spin right after the holidays. The big let-down hits us right after the first of the year. All those dreams of a wonderful family time and jolly old ho-ho-hos. The Norman Rockwell holiday, to some, seem more a fiction than a reflection of reality.

For you, I hope that the holidays bring a lot of family, food and football.

And I pray that each of you can slip into the new year without feeling like you've lost the traction that holds you on life's tracks of reality.

I hope you can keep that in mind as this holiday season gears up.

Now is the time to steel your resolve that this year will be a different expression of what the holidays truly mean. Christmas especially is a spiritual holiday. It is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ.

I will be posting a blog for a daily devotion during the Advent season that starts December 3. I hope that you will join me as I try to prepare for the spiritual Christmas. But more about that in a later blog.

What started my thinking down this whole transition spiral was watching the motorcade of the President and First Lady as they tool around around South Korea and Viet Nam. They're treated like royalty as they go from one gala to another.

So, in one way, and only in a small little sliver of reality kind of way, having these two years to settle down and get used to the idea of moving out of the Big House, is a good time for a slow transition for them.

It will be soon enough for them to get back to Texas. Two years is plenty of time for a gentle transition. There will be time for an emotional disconnect from all the propensities of power.

Shucky darn. They'll probably have to leave the chef behind. And staff. And personal secretaries who do all the logistics of their globe-trotting. When I think about it, I can't quite picture Former First Lady Barbara Bush calling up American Airlines and ordering tickets.

But back to our little people worlds.

I knew I was getting behind when my sister, Cookie, told me the other day that she was starting to work on her Christmas cards. For years and years and years, Cookie's card has always arrived on the Friday after Thanksgiving.

My cards, on the other hand, can arrive anywhere between December 1st and Epiphany, which is January 6th. It's one of the ways I get into the Christmas spirit. I truly enjoy getting the cards out and writing little notes for our friends who live in faraway places.

Listening to Christmas carols is another beautiful way to get into a holiday spirit. I found a beautiful web site at http://ingeb.org that has the words and music to many of the Christmas carols. There are many other choices to select -- patriotic songs, folk songs, etc. Hope you enjoy.

I'm also adding this web site to the list of links on this web site, along with two others I found. Like the most haunting of all songs, to me, is the Navy Hymn. Reminds me of my brothers, uncles and cousins who were in the navy. Aside from that, though, it's a beautiful song. On this particular web site, the song is sung.

Sasha Cohen, a Cambridge educated Jew, brings us what looks like a world champion nitwit. His movie, Borat, is now enjoying some pretty good sales figures at the box office. Like Mencia on Comedy Central, no one but absolutely no one is safe from his blistering, in-your-face humor.

I only mention that he's a Jew because he promotes the annual running of the Jew as his country's big festival each year. I also hasten to point out that there is no such festival. The real truth is that the country just dedicated the largest synagogue in Central Asia.

Borat says that a delicacy in his country is cheese made from human breast milk. This is also not true. But what is true would have little appeal to me -- the traditional besparmak which is a dish of boiled horsemeat and noodles. Uh, no thank you. I'll just have a PBJ, which is a delicacy in the United States. It can be found anywhere that peanut butter, bread and jelly can be found.

But don't let the humor fool you or the stupid looking villagers from his home back in Kazakhstan, and all the absolutely frantic antics he delivers while trying to get from New York to California.

The literacy rate of Kazakhstan is higher than the U.S. In this country, we are at 97%, that's 55th in the world. Pretty puny for a country that prides itself in being the best of the best!

Not only that, but there are 30 million people in the U.S. above the age of 16 who cannot read a bus schedule. This is the same group of people who struggle to read a newspaper article.

Oh my goodness -- and 70% of the people in state and federal prisons can barely read.

Literacy is defined as being able to read at fourth grade level.

I'm beginning to see a relationship between poverty and crime and unemployment and human rights abuses -- all tied to literacy, or the lack of it.

Countries tied for first place in literacy rates of 99.9% are Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland, France, Georgia, Germany, Iceland, Ireland, Japan, Luxenbourg, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom.

So we're the richest country in the world with a net worth of $10 trillion dollars.

How come we can't read any better than that?

Let me see -- when I was teaching psychology at both Moraine Valley College and Joliet Junior College, an F was any score below 65%.

The fourth graders in the United States got an average score on a national science test of 149.

That's 49.66%.

As Borat would say, thatsa not so hotso. In fact, it's a nation full of flunkos.

The big deal headline on the news channels here in the Chicago area yesterday was that Chicago students tied for the worst science score in the country. Chicago tied with Los Angeles with 42%. Cleveland and Boston were only slightly better than Chicago.

According to the National Assessment of Educational Progress, the top ten cities scored like this: Austin -- 147; Charlotte -- 145; Houston -- 138; San Diego -- 138; New York -- 134; Atlanta -- 133; Boston -- 133; Cleveland -- 128; Los Angeles -- 126 and then there's Chicago -- 126.

That was the fourth graders.

The eighth graders didn't do any better. In fact, their scores went down.

Presumably, 8th graders should be reading better and understanding bigger and better words than their little brothers and sisters in the 4th grade.

Hah! We wish.

Here's how the 8th graders scored: Austin -- 144; Charlotte -- 142; San Diego -- 136; Boston -- 131; Houston -- 130; New York -- 128; Chicago -- 124; Cleveland -- 122; Los Angeles -- 121; Atlanta -- 117.

Those scores would have to be at least 195 out of 300 questions just to be at the F/D threshold.

Now, hold those thoughts for just a second and visualize the long, long lines of people camped out for the last couple of days (since Tuesday) in front of Wal-Marts and Best Buys and Targets and Circuit Cities and every other store that put the PS3 on sale this morning for $500.

There's only 400,000 units available anywhere in this country today. At the bargain basement level price of $500 -- not the E-bay going-for-bid price of $5,000 -- those 400,000 units will set out for $200 million.

What does that have to do with education?

A whole lot, my friends.

People are not just standing in line, but setting up cute little pup tents on cold, wet concrete sidewalks around stores that sell a computer program box and little game thingeys that kids can play.

It's about motivation.

Our great educational gurus need to figure out a way to make learning enjoyable and yes, I dare say, fun.

There are millions of youngsters out there in unitedstatesofamericaland who are more than willing to learn. The adults who are the educators have a responsibility to make learning interesting.

In fact, the teachers need to learn how to make learning fun.

I had no idea who Emmitt Smith was. Now I know.

I had no idea Smith was the all-time NFL rusher of all-time. Did I say all-time? I thought that title was still held by Chicago's own, Walter Payton. Not a Dallas Cowboy, for cryin' out loud.

I had no idea who M.C. Hammer was. He thought Emmitt's rendition of his famous dancing style was pretty cool. Good job/sport, Mr. Hammer. Did you invent all that fancy footwork by yourself?

Some dancing. And don't you love Smith's cute little green shoes he wore for his final number? Judy Gardland, step aside. Your little red sequin numbers from the Wizard of Oz can't hold a candle to Smith's adorable gold "foot mittens," or his green ones either.

What I liked most about Smith was his quiet, noble not-in-your face arrogance. For that, I'm glad he won.

A bit unlike the new Mega Mouth in Washington, D.C. who just lost her first big political battle in The Dome. "Murtha's got the votes," we all heard. Then some guy from Maryland came from seemingly out of nowhere and got more votes.

Having eaten more than my share of crow, I would suggest to Her that it would be a good time for the grandma from California to stop making pronouncements about victories she hasn't won yet. It's just a thought.


THE QUEEN IS COMING, THE QUEEN IS COMING -- BUT SHE'S NOT BRINGING HER GREEN PRINCE

This will be E2's fourth state visit to the colonies. She's coming in May to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the founding of Jamestown, a little hamlet that the Brits lost when we declared war on those guys over there.

She'll be bringing The Big Prince -- Mr. Phillip from Edinburgh.

She will not be bringing her Little Green Prince -- Mr. Charles from Windsor. Bonnie Green Prince Charles has put all his staff out on bikes. Saves petrol, you know. Hence, he's green.

Does that mean he won't be driving his Jag anymore?

Does that mean the Green Prince is really England's secret toad?

Just wondering.

But I probably won't be invited to the E2 festivities either. Guess I'll just have to wait for the video.


Don't you just love all these cute little technicolored "pets?" If the Green Prince doesn't suit your fancy, how about the Blue Dogs?

(Blue Dogs were formed in 1994.The name comes from some old saying that Southerners would vote for a yellow dog. But a Blue Dog is a conservative who believes in such gasping ideas as a balanced budget and reduced federal budget mostly. A blue dog is a moderate who has been "choked blue" by Democrats for a long time.)

So Blue Dogs are what the conservative House Democrats are called. These are the winners who took Republican seats in this last election. The Republicans didn't lose their elections to liberal Democrats, but rather, to Blue Dogs.

Actually, I don't think the Republicans lost as much as they gave the election away. With only 40% of the good citizens in this country going to the polls, there were a whole bunch of lazy people who couldn't get off their you know whats and get to the polls.

The votes were within a hair's breath of going either way, so I shouldn't say so much about the Republicans. The Democrats were playing hooky too.

So all you voters out there have exactly two years to beef up on high energy drinks. Then maybe you can make it to the polls.

Otherwise, just remember -- there will be no complaining in paradise!


AND NOW FOR MY QUICK TRIP AROUND THE WHIRLWIND IN MY HEAD -- AND OTHER PLACES

Some pastor in Scottsdale, Arizona, has to pay back $60,000 he stole from his church. See, Rev., if you steal, you don't break just one of the Big Ten. There's those little lies you tell, if only to yourself. That's another commandment.

It's a lie even if you just tell yourself that it's okay to steal because the church isn't paying you all that much anyway. See, your pay is a contract your have with your church. A contract is negotiated between TWO entities -- you and your church.

If it wasn't enough money, you let yourself down. Now you have to go and explain your at-least-two sins. There's probably more in there by the time you get around to the envy and coveting parts of the tail end of the commandment list.

It reminds me of a similar situation here in the south suburbs of Chicago. It involved a treasurer of a local church. She used to take the money home on Sunday afternoons, count it, then deposit the money on Monday morning.

One day, the president of the church went into the bank about an entirely different matter and the teller just kind of off-handedly remarked, "Gee, you guys don't deposit any twenties anymore." Quite frequently, this particular teller would double-check the deposit from the church treasurer on Monday mornings.

What?!!!

So then began a sting operation of twenties going into the offering plates, with serial numbers recorded on a little sheet of paper. The twenties never found their way into the church's bank account. Can you imagine such a thing?

Tens of thousands of dollars later, the treasurer came up on stealy-skulduggery charges. Got seven years, she did! And she had to give the money back.


And this note is from the Blue Blood State of Connecticut. A man drove over his wife when she wouldn't quit nagging him about a ticket he got. A jury found Walter Blakeslee guilty of manslaughter because they didn't think he really meant to actually kill his wife.

So you think he was just trying to scare her into shutting up. Well, she's dead, not scared. But he did manage to shut her up.

Too bad they didn't try him for murder. I say that anytime you run over your wife with your pickup truck, you're probably intending for her to die.

But I haven't finished enough of John Grisham's books yet to be any good in a court room. King of Torts is my next book. Death by car definitely seems like a breach of tort. (A tort is when you hurt someone but it's tried in civil court not criminal court.)


Definitely looks like a case of child abuse to me. A dad in West Palm Beach, Florida, was pulled over doing 100 MPH in a construction zone on I-95. He had his 13 year old son in the car with him. It was 3 a.m. Just a tiny guess, but do you think it might be possible that he could have had a bit to drink?

Just wondering. He was charged with both child abuse AND reckless driving.


You will not get away with that kind of speeding through construction zones any longer here in Illinois. We have cameras all over the place, especially in construction zones.

Mainly because we had a lot of Florida-type-speeders knocking off our construction workers last summer and summer before last.

It's a $375 fine. Plus administrative and processing fees (to cash your check, heh heh heh). Brings the total to more than $500, suckers!

And don't worry one bit about the state (and City of Chicago) spending "all that money" on camera equipment. Last month alone, the state of Illinois netted $1,245,000 from people speeding through construction zones and running red lights and just general everyday garden variety speeding through neighborhoods.

If that didn't make the caution light go off in your brain, then consider this:

The City of Chicago was recently looking for a way to close a $10 million gap in a budget shortfall. The State of Illinois is always looking for a million dollars here, and a million dollars there.

If traffic violators can ante up mega millions from bad driving habits, don't you think there are going to be more, not less, cameras?

Even the ACLU, that bastion of protection for all the n'er-do-wells in this country said, "There's no way to defend this kind of ticket."

The ticket comes in the mail to you from the Secretary of State's Office. It has a photo of who's driving your car. (Probably looks like you.) And there's a photo of your license plate. Then there's that little print-off in the right hand bottom corner that says what the date and the time was and how fast your car was going.

If perchance you think you'll just ignore the ticket and not pay for it, then guess what?

Your drivers license will be suspended. And the next time you get pulled over for any old thing, you'll be driving without a valid license. It goes downhill from there.

TURNS OUT, GOD DID IT -- High mercury content in the water runoff at the Salmon Falls Reservoir has long been suspect.

The good ole environmentalists have been running around Rogerson, Idaho, looking for the bad guys. They were mainly focused on mercury being carried on the wind from nearby Nevada gold mines.

I have it on very tood authority from my retired analytical research chemist husband Quint that Mercury is very heavy and even if it got picked up by big winds, it wouldn't go very far.

Besides, it turns out that the mercury is naturally occurring. So there.


ACTUALLY, THIS MAKES A LOT OF SENSE TO ME

Vermont does not like drunk drivers. Especially late at night.

Not that imbibers haven't figured out that all they have to do is take their reveling little hearts  over the state line and party, party, party in New York.

Just don't drive back home, folks.

Officer Friendly awaits.

When you cross the state line back into Vermont, your blood alcohol content does not miraculously and instantly get back down to the legal limit.

Besides, that is not what we call responsible drinking. So if you have more than you should, just stay put and get a room in New York. Or have a designated driver to haul you back home.

The rule is one ounce of alcohol an hour. That's all your liver can process.

There's an ounce of alcohol in a 12-ounce beer.

There's an ounce of alcohol in one shot of alcohol -- like vodka, or rum, or gin, etc..

There's an ounce of alcohol in a six ounce glass of wine.

So you may think you can drink a couple of cups of coffee and it will sober you up. Or any of your other favorite anti-drunk trick drinks. It just is not so.

Your liver doesn't work that way. It's a stubborn, methodical little chemical factory that lives somewhere approximately behind your belly button. And it won't get in a hurry just because you have to get home.

Better yet, when the bartender calls "Last call," don't go running over there and getting two for the road, one for the booth, and one for now.

That is not being responsible. It's abusing alcohol.


SOUNDS LIKE A TYPICAL BUREAUCRATIC BUDGET TO ME

All it cost Ohio cell phone users is 32 cents a month. That way, technology would be put into place to find out where 911 calls are coming from.

Sounds like a great idea.

There ae 88 counties in Ohio.

The state has collected $25.6 million so far. But only $16 million has been distributed to about half the counties.

Sure hope the state will distribute the other almost nine million to at least most of the other counties, and then they can stop collecting the thirty-two cents, right?


And that takes care of the tidbits I found interesting from USA Today's trip around the United States.


JUST HOW WOULD A MILLIONNAIRE KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE TO SHOP AT WAL-MART?

I saw a headline on CNN today that says John Edwards and Barack Obama are teaming up with WakeUpWalMart.com to force the giant retailer to "put families first."

Unless I'm mistaken, Wal-Mart does an incredible job trying to get prices so that families can get a break on their household budget expenses.

Not everyone in this country can afford to shop at Macy's or Carsons or Nordstroms. Not everyone has a net worth of a million+ dollars.

Some of us have to go to stores where we can afford to shop. The Wal-Marts and Targets of this world do us all a great service by keeping prices low. And even that is often a challenge for today's families.

For instance, I ask moms and dads who come in for counseling what they spend just on back-to-school supplies for their youngsters. It isn't unusual for parents who have three or four kiddos to spend about $80 for each child.

It's a big deal expense just to get youngsters ready to go back to school. And that's just the paper and pencils and boxes of tissues and other stuff that's required for each student.

Maybe the millionnaires ought to donate some of their spare change they get from their book sales and ticket sales to their dinners. Maybe it would make people feel like politicians think voters' families are first, do you think?

In this most recent election, there were a grand total of 78,707,495 voters who went to the polls.

That's a 40.4% turnout, according to the American University's Center for the Study of the American Electorate.

In 2002, the turnout was 39.7% -- like this year is a big improvement.

The all-time high for a midtern election was back in 1982 with an equally abominable 42.1%.

If you did not vote in the 2006 election, what would motivate you to vote?

If you did vote and would like to share your thoughts, can you briefly tell me what moved you to go to the polls?

E-mail me at jane@janereinheimer.com and share your point of view. Please also let me know if you are willing to share your e-mail with other readers (first name and city/state only will be used).

Thank you. -- Jane

But first, a really big welcome to our new German readers! I'm not sure how you found my blog, but it's a super-sized, wonderful world out there and I hope you return often. You, and the readers from the Netherlands have elevated us to international notoriety.

And I can hardly get my head through the door anymore. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome.

My great-great grandfather Leopold Stubbe hailed from Pottsdam in 1846. He settled in the Racine, Wisconsin, area. That takes care of my mother's side of the family.

My father's people are Cherokee and they hailed from the Dallas, Texas -- Texarkana -- and Shreveport, Louisiana, area.

Now all I need to know -- because inquiring minds want to know -- is how these two people ever got together.

If there are any Haltom (father's side) or Stubbe (mother's side) people out there who know this well-kept family secret, please let me know. I may want to write a book some day.

And now, on with the blog for today. Hopefully, we have a different flavor of humor than Borat has.

Speaking of Borat, now we have to add another sub-genre of humor -- raunchy!

Please don't sue me, Borat.

My choice of movies over the weekend was between Borat and Flag of Our Fathers. I was intrigued about how a comedy that was heralded as uproariously funny could be rated R. Now, after having seen the movie, I know.

I think my favorite scene in the movie is when Borat presents the Wedding Bag to Pamela Anderson, his intended, never-before-met bride. This is an ancient custom in Kazikstan. The idea is to put the bag over the woman's body and carry her off.

Well, Borat hadn't had a real go at this trick with American women. We're more than a tad sharper than Kazikstan women, I'd say. Pamela manages to get out of the bag, run off to safety, and leave her body guards are to deal with Borat.

So now I understand, from other scenes, why the movie is rated R. I also understand why the movie is outlawed in Russia. And I think I understand why Borat is being sued by some people who say they were duped by him. It is hard for me to understand how Borat could dupe anybody though.

If Borat isn't careful, he just may give Jack Nicholson a run for his comedic money. To me, Borat is a cross between the Pink Panther and Nicholson. But that's just my opinion. Movie critic I'm not. But I can spot inept from a distance, though.

On to my run around the United States -- thanks to USA Today, one of my favorite newspapers.

From Colorado -- Glenwood Springs, specifically. Chopping-down-Christmas-tree permits went on sale for the chopping-down-season which starts November 20. The permits cost $10 per tree, but get this -- you are limited to trees UNDER fifteen feet.

You're even provided with a map of the White River National Forest so you can find the best area to go tree hunting. On the surface, this doesn't sound like such a big deal until you really think about it.

I mean, who would cut down a tree taller than 15 feet and even if you did, what size Hummer would you need to haul it out of the woods, and how big a crane would you need to hoist the darn think up on the top of your vehicle, and where would you put it when you got it home? Your living room? I suppose if your house had a three story atrium, you'd want a really tall tree. But aren't trees heavy?

How much would a twenty foot tree weigh? Quint's best estimate -- including branches and cones -- would be about four hundred pounds. Definitely would not want to put that thing either on a car or a Hummer. Squoosh would go the tires -- and boing would go the springs!


From Minnesota -- Look what they've done to Rudolph! Linda Peck's property in Rockville has now become a dump, of sorts.

Someone -- or someones -- have been gifting her with unused parts of deer -- about five of them in the last several days.

Problem is, the deer are now missing their hind quarters, hide and antlers.

That's a really big no-no. Aside from the fact that her house is on private property, you can't just go shoot a deer all to pieces, then take off the parts that you want and leave the rest behind.

Or even take the behind with you.

Whatever. I say, if you're going to dump off a deer, leave the whole thing, fur and all.


From Nevada -- I think you'd be able to spot the house without the tag on it.

Here's how brilliant citizens propose to figure out how to spend their time in Reno.

An advisory board wants to put a big red tag on the houses that have had repeated police calls for all the ruckus the residents cause -- things like kegger parties, excess ambulance calls and police sirens blazing through the neighborhood.

So my question is this: If they're making that much noise, don't you think the houses would be fairly easy to spot? Just follow your ears to the boomboxes.


From Tennessee -- A typical budget mess.

A cleanup project at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory is woefully behind in its promised schedule to cleanp stuff at the Molten Salt Reactor.

In fact, it's about twenty months behind schedule.

And $10 million over budget.

And the blame-it-all reason? Suspected drug use and other personnel issues. My, oh my, oh my.

Not only that, but the cleaning has been HALTED since a fluorine leak was found in May.

With a yard that's 60 feet wide and 190 feet long, we have lots of leaves. That's primarily because of two giant maples that think they're sequoias. I thought maples kind of settled down and quit growing at about thirty feet. Not so. We have three maples that are at least fifty feet tall.
 
Fortunately for me, they have more than an ample supply of leaves. They're also a pretty goldish-red when they turn color. So I'm happy! Only God can make a tree.

We arrived in Effingham on Friday afternoon. I practically leaped out of the car and charged to the basement where my newest yard toy is stored -- a handy dandy leaf blower. The leaves were wet. Must have rained while we were gone. I figured I'd blow the leaves way up in the air and that would kind of help dry them off a bit as they cascaded back to earth.

Didn't work.

Instead, I made a giant pile. Then it got dark. I was only about a sixth done.

Mother Nature had gifted me with a carpet of autumn splendor.

And Quint, who is ordinarily a super sport of understanding, refused to put headlights on my leaf blower. The best he would do was to turn on the measly back porch light. 

Then he came out and said the neighbors might appreciate it if I wasn't making so much racket. Kind of like it they might be watching TV, or just enjoying what used to be a peacefully quiet evening.

Saturday was a new day. We made our regular sojourn to Menards. It turns out Quint is replacing the drain in the bathroom sink. And grocery shopping on our way home. 

We keep each other company when we shop. We've always had too much fun together. So while he's looking for plumbing stuff, I'm planning my next project (for him to do).

Then on to the store. Quint is a master at shopping. He can disappear faster into another aisle than anybody I've ever seen. One minute I'm talking to him because I think he's within earshot of my voice, only to discover that he's nowhere in sight but some nice gentleman answers my question anyway. Then Quint reappears with something from the list. I looked all over for him one day and had to resort to calling his cell phone to find out which aisle he was in.

Finally, after lunch I cook my own version of White Castle Jalapeno cheeseburgers and tater tots.
(recipe below)

Then I can get back to the leaves. It takes more than two hours to burn them all. There was a mountain of leaves that I piled up at the entrance to the driveway. We are allowed to burn leaves in Effingham. It's an autumn ritual.

Next weekend, I'll get at least another sixth of the yard blown away and burned. More if the leaves aren't wet.

I am happy to report that the Illinois cornfields are all mowed down and the corn cobs have been plucked.

Now our task is to keep an eye on the highway department's removal of tire carcasses that litter the shoulders of I-57. I would not want to be anywhere near one the those big rigs when they blow off a big chunk of their tires.

NOW FOR MY VERSION OF WHITE CASTLES.

First of all, you have to understand that White Castle does not fry or flame broil their burgers. Instead, they are cooked on a bed of steaming onion flakes. That's all there is to it.

Put some water in a skillet and add dehydrated onion flakes. When the bed of onion flakes is nice and juicy, put the beef patties on and cook 'em til they're done. Add a slice of cheese and some jalapeno slices. Yum yum.

The brown mustard is equal parts of yellow mustard and A-1 sauce. They might deny that this is their secret recipe, but it tastes good to me.

As far as the tater tots are concerned, it seems that Taco Bell has invented this most delicious  little dish. 

Start off with a small bowl -- individual serving size -- then put some cheese whiz on the bottom. Then add crispy cooked tater tots and add a dollop of sour cream. Then add some chopped green onions. If you're in a hurry, you can use the Sour Cream/Chives potato chip dip. It's just as good.

Then have a nice salad and you've got your favorite foods right from the warmth of your tender loving kitchen!



 

Updated: November 13, 2006: When I started the blog at www.janereinheimer.com I had no idea that it would get as many hits as it has so far. Thank you so much for visiting the site. Hits so far are: June – 42; July – 7; August – 13; September – 128; October –35; and November so far this month (11/9)– 2,910. (This is a corrected number.) The grand total since the beginning of blog time is 3,835.

TAILGATING?

Two United Airline jets clipped each other today at about 9 a.m. at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport.

It happened as both planes were taxiing down the same runway.

Apparently the second jet was following just a bit too close because when the first jet started to make a left turn, its wing tip hit the tail of the other plane.

One plane was headed for New York’s LaGuardia Airport with 110 passengers on board. The other plane was going to Washington, D.C. with 96 passengers.

Fortunately, there were no injuries.

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REMEMBER THIS FOR TRIVIAL PURSUIT

The highest temperature ever recorded – anywhere on Earth - was in Libya in September 1922 – 136 degrees Fahrenheit.

The highest temperature ever recorded in the United States was in Death Valley, California in July 1913 – 134 degrees.

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NEW MILEAGE DEDUCTION

The new deduction for 2006 is 44.5 cents a mile. That’s four cents a mile less than the temporary rate set for the last quarter of 2005 even though gas prices have risen since then.

We’ll see if IRS has any mercy on us at all because of the gas prices rising like a volcanic eruption.

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I would like to thank Alice Stubbe -- my cousin by marriage (she's lucky enough to be married to my cousin, Al Stubbe -- for sharing these "laws" --

Law of Mechanical Repair: After your hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch or you’ll have to go to the bathroom.

Law of the Workshop: Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the lease accessible corner.

Law of Probability: The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act.

Law of the Alibi: If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.

Law of Close Encounters: The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don’t want to be seen with.

Law of the Result: When you try to prove to someone that a machine won’t work, it will.

Theater Rule: At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle will arrive last.

Law of Coffee: As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.

Law of Dirty Carpets: The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich landing face down on a floor covering are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet.

Law of Location: No matter where you go, there you are.

Law of Logical Argument: Anything is possible if you don’t know what you are talking about.

Oliver’s Law: A closed mouth gathers no feet.

Wilson’s Law: As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.

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Get answers to basic health questions, including a BMI calculator at www.familydoctor.org

Follow the 3-1-1 rule:

3 ounce bottles or less

1 quart-sized, clear plastic, zip-top bag

1 bag per passenger placed in screening bin

The 3-ounce bottles must fit into the quart-sized plastic bag. TSA recommends that you X-ray this bag separately to speed screening.

If you have any doubt at all, put the liquids or cosmetics in your checked luggage. If you must travel with a larger size – such as medications, baby formula or milk that is more than three ounces, be sure to declare the items for inspection at the checkpoint.

Check with www.tsa.gov for a lot of other rules and regulations. Above all, come earlier and be patient. If your airline says you should arrive at the airport two hours early for your flight, go earlier than that and have a cup of coffee of breakfast.

We’re lucky at O’Hare Airport in Chicago. There are some wonderful restaurants to choose from. If our flight is at 1:00 p.m., it’s not unusual for Quint and me to arrive at the airport around 10:30 or so and have a light brunch, find our gate and settle in with a book, magazine or newspaper. And no matter how picky our screeners are in the United States, it’s nothing like trying to get out of Berlin, or Paris, or Dublin, or London.

Someday if you ever have Quint all to yourself, ask him what he was thinking when we were leaving Berlin a few years ago. We had gone to Oberammergau in Bavaria to see the Passion Play. In one of my shopping forays, I bought a beautiful stein with a music box that plays Edelweiss. I put it into Quint’s luggage, not thinking much about it.

First there was one security guard. Then there were two. Then there were three. They were the armed no-nonsense variety. "Are you certain, sir, that you have nothing to disclose?"

Quint assured them that everything was okeedokey. There certainly was nothing like clockworks and music boxes or anything else that could be used to set off anything. Then they went into a private little room. Imagine Quint’s surprise when he discovered that he did, in fact, have a music box in his bag. Then they let him go.

Daughter Teri and her husband Rick are packing up and moving from Lake Forest, California (about halfway between San Diego and Los Angeles) to Sandpoint, Idaho (about 20 or 40 miles from the Canadian border).

I immediately googled Sandpoint since we will be going there in the near future -- after our room (the guest room) in their new home is decorated. The last guest room was done in a safari motif. The theme was suggested by their ferocious cat, Rocky.

The problem is, Rocky thought we were interlopers who had come to run him out of his room. He did not like it too much that we'd go in there and sleep. And shut the door, of all the nerve. Locked that cat right out. I think he went off to his pouting corner somewhere and laid awake all night to think of ways to get even with us.

So when Teri said they were moving, Quint and I had a big discussion about whether it would be Rick or Teri who would get the joy of traveling all the way from southern California to Idaho with The Cat.

Turns out, they're flying.

Oh great. Turn Rocky over to some poor unsuspecting airline pet sheriff.

Rocky has to have a note from his vet so he can get on the plane. I sure hope it doesn't say something like "CAGE RAGE" in big red letters.

That happened to someone I know who took her dog to the vet. This lady is the most gentle, kind woman. When I saw her, both hands were bandaged, as well as several fingers. I asked her what in the world had happened to  her. That's when she shared with me that the dog was not happy at all about being put into a cage. When she went to pick up the dog from the vet later, he was given back to this lady with "CAGE RAGE" written in big red letters on his discharge papers.

When I related this story to Teri with the thought that maybe Rocky's vet could give the cat some Kitty Prozac or something to calm the poor little thing, Teri said that she'd already covered that base and the vet, instead, suggested that she just give the cat some benadryl.

Well okay. But maybe lots of benadryl. How much benadryl does it take to reduce a slurpy growl to a purr?

But aside from the move and the cat, the only other mishap is that Teri accidentally shredded Rick's passport.

Oops.

He only used it once when they went to Nigeria last winter. Didn't even get the good out of it. And the other really amusing thing is that she's supposed to supply a copy of the passport in order to get a replacement. So, let me see. If you have a copy of it, why would you need a replacement?

Just kidding. Of course Teri made a photocopy of their passports before they left the United States. Being organized and efficient runs in her genes!

And Rick quickly forgave her for shredding his passport. He said he's done some really stupid things in his life too. Then he thought about how that sounded.

Another oops.

Are you referring to the time that Teri sent you to Idaho with only a one-way ticket? Even if getting a one-way ticket puts you on TSA's terrorist watch list. Oh, those things happen. Of course she wanted you to come back home.

Quint and I are on the same list. When we get our boarding passes, there are all those big capital "SSSS" in the bottom right hand corner. That means we've been "randomly" selected to be searched extra special. We just give ourselves another half hour to go through the airport screening. We had bought one-way tickets to Kansas City last year when my mom fell and broke her hip and we didn't know exactly when we'd be coming back to Chicago.

We're practically on a first-name basis with the TSA screeners at O'Hare Airport.

There are books out there for nature lovers who want to go out to the woods and forage around looking for edibles to make a tasty toasty little meal over a cute littel campfire. Living off the land. For a few hours.

If you're tempted to do such things, you need to know that somethings that grow are dangerous. Even poisonous. Even deadly.

Sure, you could have a nice little snack if you're lucky enough to find a potato plant. But if you can't identify a potato plant by its twigs sticking out of the ground, then take care. (Potatoes are root vegetables that grow underground.)

Having been a Girl Scout leader many years ago for many years, at one time, I actually carried one of those edible-foods-in-the-wild pocketbooks. The ilustrations were absolutely gorgeous. I don't see how anybody could miss.

I will tell you that one of my girlfriends from high school got bad mushrooms. She was an avid "shroomer." Julia used to go up to Kentucky Lake to pick the wild ones. 

I'm not a mushroom gourmet. In fact, I don't eat any mushrooms that aren't grown in some little cave in the moonlight. I go foraging for mushrooms in the produce section at my supermarket. They're just fine.

Anyway, Julia brought her basket of mushrooms back to her house and sauteed them in butter, just like always. She had a yummy little feast.

Not too much later, she started developing flu-like symptoms. Got so bad that she made a trip to ER. They sent her home with a checklist of things to do for flu.

About 2 a.m. she felt really really bad. She used her last bit of strength to call 911. She at least had the presence of mind to crack the front door open so the paramedics could get in. She was taken to the hospital in a coma and died before the sun came up.

Julia was a practiced mushroomer. So if she could make a mistake, then that's all the more reason why I will stick with cave grown mushrooms until the day I die.

And all of that brings me to the most idiotic thing I've ever heard of. That is people eating the seeds of jimson weed.

First of all, jimson weed is from the nightshade family. We used to call it "deadly blooming nightshade."

When people eat jimson weed seeds, hallucinations don't start for about two hours. So people get this idea that if they aren't "feeling it" then the seeds must not be working. So they eat some more. And then some more.

Then the next thing you know, they're on their way to ER.

The effects of Jimson weed can last for days. An overdose can put you in a coma. Or seizures. Or respiratory arrest. Or playing checkers with Julia.

They are not the same thing as pumpkin seeds, which, by the way, are okay to eat.

There's a whole bunch of people out there who apparently didn't learn one of the most valuable life lessons there is -- and that is the old "fly on the wall" concept.

That is -- it's not about what you can get away with. It's about doing the right thing, especially if someone isn't watching to make sure that you do.

When you do the right thing because it's the right thing to do, then you have reached a higher level of maturity -- emotional and spiritual. Okay, so some of you aren't ever going to get to that point -- research says about a third of you won't. You're going to sit back and wonder what the fuss is all about while the rest of us try to figure out why you don't get it.

Even politicians finally got it. Some got it in the seat of the pants --metaphorically -- by voters who kicked them out of office. Some resigned before they got booted out.

But gone they are.

Like former Florida representative Ralph Arza from Florida. If you don't watch the news, he's the one who was screaming racial slurs and some really nasty language on a voice mail of another representative. Arza resigned.

Rule #1 -- Messages left on voice mails aren't covered by the same laws that say it's illegal to tape someone's phone conversations. (Or wiretaps) In other words, if you leave a voice mail on someone's phone, there is not a presumed expectation of privacy or confidentiality.

It's the same kind of rule that says when you are walking (or standing) on a public sidewalk, anybody can take your picture.

And how about former congressman Foley -- also from Florida. He was the homosexual, yet to be determined maybe pedophile, who left some pretty explicitly sexual e-mails for congressional pages.

Just kidding, he said. Yeah, right. It was all a big joke when he got caught. Who's laughing now?

On a much more local scale, a local hometown just two miles from our front door, three intersections are now boasting cameras that will take photos of people who run red lights. It seems that when the traffic studies were done to figure out which three intersections were going to be the lucky ones, it was really easy to decide.

There were no less than a combined 149 red light runs in one hour!

Drivers can scream and holler all they want -- but remember being photographed while you're out in public does not violate any of your civil rights. The right to privacy is not violated when a driver is out on a public road and disobeying traffic rules.

You're just going to have to obey the rules and make an assumption that you are being watched.

If big government doesn't keep you in mind, there is someone else who's watching every move you make.

Himself.

Just behave and you'll be fine. It isn't about what you can get away with. You know in your heart when you are doing something you ought not to be.

Two Senate seats hang in the balance -- too close to call at this hour are Virginia and Montana.

I'll bet there are a lot of voters in both those states, and other states as well, who woke up this morning and wished to high heaven that they'd gone to the polls yesterday. I can just hear them now, "Well, maybe my vote would have mattered."

Truth is, folks, votes always matter. It's one of the ways you can maintains your own sense of freedom.

Curious, though, that in Virginia, the recount can't go forward until the election is certified. I believe that would be November 27. Unless the lawyers can get in there and get some kind of special legal dispensation. But then, those election laws are legislated and I'm not sure the courts can undo legislation like that.

But we shall see.

I think the real winner in this election is Joe Lieberman. I say that because Mr. Moderate Democrat from Connecticut wasn't slated by the Regular Democrat Mucky Mucks because Mr. Nice Guy Lieberman was feared/accused of swinging too far toward the center, i.e., the right.

So they didn't slate him.

Mr. L says, "Okay, then I'll run as an Independent." And that's just what he did. And of all things, his followers had the audacity to elect him. And rather handily at that.

Now comes the irony.

If, in fact, the Senate races end up for grabs -- in a 49/49 split -- and there's already one other Independent sitting in the Senate, then Mr. Lieberman is the man of the hour in just about every Senate vote.

So the Connecticutican Slaters thought they were going to strip Lieberman of power and punish him for leaning toward the right. What they really did was make him the Man of the Hour Sitting in the Catbird Seat on Capitol Hill. 

How's that for Much Ado About Nothing?

Congratulations to Mr. Lieberman.

Now, let's all take a deep breath and settle back to see where Montana and Virginia are going to put the numbers. In the final analysis, the quiet, always the gentleman, Mr. Lieberman is the winner in this election.

On another entirely different matter -- things did not go so well for Linda Long, a forty-eight year old church goer at the East London Holiness Church near Lexington, Kentucky. Even though the church enthusiastically denies anything about snake handling as part of their worship services -- probably because "handling" the slithery little critters carries up to a $100 fine -- Linda got bit.

In fact, when they wheeled her into the University of Kentucky Medical Center, she said she had been bit by a snake at her church. 

No matter. The fine won't work here. Linda died from her snakebite.

Snake handling goes back to one passage in the Bible that says if you are really a believer, then you can pick up serpents and you won't even get hurt. 

I'd have to get out my concordance to verify the passage but I believe it has to do with when the Apostle Paul was run aground in a storm on the island of Malta. Paul was going to make a fire on the beach and accidentally grabbed ahold of a poisonous viper when he thought he was reaching for a piece of firewood. The startled snake bit Paul on the hand but he didn't die. Paul shook the snake off as if it were nothing at all. The stunned people around Paul just knew he'd finally met his end but Paul didn't even get sick. 

You can read about this account in Acts 28:3-6. This passage lends the premise for snake handlers back up in these hill country churches. They have big fat deadly monsters of snakes -- Cottonmouths, Rattlesnakes, Copperheads, and God only knows what else. I've read where they even drink a deadly coctail of strychnine from a Mason Jar as a real test of believership.

Another Bible passage that talks about snake handlers can be found in Mark 16:15-18 where Jesus says, "...And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name, they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well."

I am certainly not a snake handler. Not even an innocent little garter snake. I would surely have a coronary right on the spot if it even looked at me cross-eyed.






 

I timed us. From the time we got out of the car and walked into the polls, signed a sheet of paper that came out of a binder (at least here in Cook County, Illinois), took our ballot over to a top secret, high security voting booth  that's in a long line of other voting booths positioned so people could probably see what I was doing if they wanted to, and back to a scanner where we -- and only we -- were allowed to touch our ballot and put it through a reader-scanner-computer, and back to the car again, took a grand total of eight minutes.

So who says they don't have time to vote?

But what I don't understand is this -- how come we can't pray in schools, and some nitwit has been trying to get "one nation under God" out of the Pledge of Allegiance because we have to have separation of church and state (which is pure baloney) -- and everytime there's an election, the local county government comes around and puts election polls in CHURCHES!!!!

Now, mind you, it makes me no never mind that the polls are in the churches -- but don't you think it's just a teensy weensy bit hypocritical?

There's a big fat juicy block of 86% of Americans who say enthusiastically that they are Christians. So get off the sidelines and make your voices heard. This is a Christian country -- it was founded on Christian morals and values and as long as I have a voice in the matter, it's going to stay that way.

Maybe what the churches need to say to the politicos and mega squats is "We'll put your polls in our churches when you put prayers back in our schools."

I'd say Amen to that!

But back to the election. You still have hours to go. So if you haven't voted, get yourself up out of your chair and get the polls. If you don't have a ride, call somebody. Whether you're Democrat or Republican, it doesn't matter. There are people at local offices of candidates who will be happy to come over to your house and pick you up and take you right up to the door of the poll and wait for you to finish voting. Then take you back home.

And back in the old days, two hundred years ago when I was young and a most energetic precinct captain, if you'd called for a ride to the polls, you'd have gotten not only a ride but a free lunch out of the deal too.

So don't be shy.

If you want to see one of the best outlines of election information across the country, including Alaska and Hawaii, go to http://www.opinionjournal.com. It's been prepared by the Wall Street Journal. Another web site that looks really good is http://www.realclearpolitics.com.   

Real Clear Politics will be monitoring the results throughout the evening. Believe me, no matter how much I enjoy watching the results on TV, I can just barely abide all that opinionated stuff from pundits who think they can read the minds of voters like me.

I first became interested in politics when I was in fourth grade and every student in our class at St. Paul Lutheran in Paducah, Kentucky, got a copy of The Weekly Reader and Junior Scholastic. It was when Dwight D. Eisenhower was running for president. He ran against Adlai Stevenson. Actually, Stevenson ran against Ike for a second term too. Stevenson lost both times. Stevenson later had a fatal heart attack on a sidewalk in Chicago. Just keeled over. We named one of our major expressways after him, since Chicago is rather known to be a Democrat strong haven. (Chicago likes to honor Illinois' favorite sons.)

Ever since fourth grade, when November rolls around, I start salivating. I never -- not even once -- dragged myself to the polls because it was my duty.

Nope.

Just try to keep me away from the polls on election day. You'd have better luck keeping me away from pizza parlors.

And if you say you don't vote because politicians are corrupt, I say don't vote for the corrupt ones, silly.

I am happy to report that there is only one farmer between Vollmer Road and Effingham who has yet to harvest his corn. Quint and I pay attention to such things with great interest. Mainly because by the time we get to Charleston, we've covered all the topics on our agendas and we've pretty much run out of mile markers on our countdown.

We're going to give him one more week, then we might just pull up to his house and do our "knock knock" thing -- just to make sure he's not sick. Then we'll decide whether we should issue an admonishment or return with a warm casserole. Depending on whether he's well or not.

On our trip down last weekend, we counted tire carcasses -- you know, those pieces of tread that semis blow off their tires. I've never actually seen one of those things peel off but I know people who have and I guess it's a pretty scary sight to behold.

Here's a clue for the truck drivers -- quit driving so fast.

We know who you are. I have to kick up my poor little Focus all the way to 73 mph just to get around you. And you, Mr. Truck Driver, are supposed to drive a maximum of 55 mph.

I did read that the truckers want the limit raised on their "governors." Governors are like little limitators that keep trucks from going any speed above 68 mph -- which is what they're set for in Illinois. The trucking companies are after the State of Illinois to let them raise the governators to 72 or 73 mph.

Now let me see. The maximum speed limit for trucks is set at 55 mph, and you already have your governors set for 68 mph and you want to raise it to 73 mph. I'm missing something here because your logic fails to ignite any sensibility in my meager little brain.

Oh. It's because of Iowa and Missouri where you can legally drive 70 mph, just like the cars do.

Well then. The solution is simple. Just go around Illinois if you don't like our speed limit laws. And stay off of I-80 while you're at it. You little speed demons on 18 wheels have made the entire length of I-80 one big traffic hazard.

You run cars off the road. Heck, you bad boys even run into each other.

Just quit it. That thing you're driving is not a guided missile. It's a truck. 'Course I could say the same thing for the cars that zoom around me at 90 mph.

You know there's a direct correlation between excess speed and fatal crashes.

 

HOMEWORK HELPS: I love to check out new web sites that offer really good homework help. The one I'm most impressed with right now is www.studybuddy.com. It gets a WOW in my book. I like the graphics and can understand a lot better when things move around like they're supposed to so I can understand concepts.

Check it out. Another good web site I've just run across is www.funology.com. It has lots of boredom busters for the kiddos. Check out the "findawords" for a big variety of themes, among other things.

 

DID YOU KNOW that China leads the world in number of executions? According to Amnesty International, in the entire world last year, there were 2,184 executions, 1,770 of which were in China. China came under a lot of criticism lately with the world community yelling in these giant foghorns to slow down a bit. So now China has adopted a new motto, Kill fewer, kill carefully.

Apparently, the Chinese have discovered that a lot of people confessed after police beat them up. They were actually innocent, but their innocence wasn't always discovered in time to stop executions.

In China, tax evasion, drug smuggling and corruption carry the death penalty, right along with murders and other bad crimes against people.

At least a new rule is in place that says people who are sentenced to be executed must have their case reviewed by a high court. That may help. Somewhat.

In the United States, 60 people were executed in 2005.

And if you haven't read John Grisham's book, The Innocent Man, it will amaze you to learn that this man spent 12 years on death row and wasn't even at the scene of the crime -- the crime being a horrible rape/murder.

Grisham weaves the story as if it were a mystery novel. Read it for yourself and see if your view of the death penalty gets nudged in a slightly different direction.

Texas just executed its 23rd convicted killer this year. This was a guy who collected $200 to kill a teenager to keep him from testifying about a drive-by shooting.  Hey, don't mess with Texas! In fact, if you're going to commit any kind of bad crime, you'd better not be south of the Mason Dixon Line. They're not exactly crime sympathizers down there.

 

WHAT A GREAT IDEA! LET'S PROOFREAD THE BALLOTS. Uh oh. It's Ohio in the news again at election time. This time, Miami County is now requiring the the ballots be proofread. (They weren't before?) It seems that the name of an unopposed incumbent was left off the ballot. You guys are really in trouble now. I hope this motion received unanimous approval from the four-member election board.

 

HERE'S THE GREAT HUNTER IN MINNESOTA. I hate to say it, guys, but a women huntress has bagged the giantest buck ever killed in Minnesota. Deb Luzinski, 38 years old, with a bow and arrow no less, got herself a 24-point white-tailed deer in White Bear Township. She's been an archer for 15 years.

 

JUST GIMME THE FACTS MA'M -- I admit that I have been intrigued about the "cause of death" since my mother passed away and her autopsy listed about ten reasons why she died. But I have never seen "failure to execute a turn" before in an obituary. Sadly, it was about a 17-year-old young man who was driving too fast for conditions -- the conditions being a wet road on a curve.

Thank you, readers. In June, when this web site came into being, some 42 of you visited this site. Then, in July there were only 7. (I guess everyone was on vacation.)

Then in August, there were 13 (six people came home?), in September 128, in October there were 735, and so far this month, there have been 1,797 hits to the web site.  

If you want to make this your home site, click on "Tools" while you are on the home page, then go to "Internet Options" and select Home Page. That ought to do it.

 

So what did we do in Effingham this weekend? Well, I left an immaculately clean kitchen floor and we burned leaves, and took naps.

Sounds like a great weekend to me. What did you do?

Jane

 

 

 

We will be heading for our getaway house in Effingham, Illinois, for the weekend -- or, as Quint calls it, our "dude ranch." (Quint, we are not dudes and it's a Cape Cod -- not a ranch -- but if you want to call what we do "duding" that's okay.)

Mind you, we have been living in a condominium for thirty years. We've enjoyed watching lawn care people rake and vacuum up our leaves -- mow the grass -- shovel the snow, etc. etc. We have some new lawn toys for our Effingham pleasure. One is an electric leaf blower. Last time I made a huge pile of leaves. This weekend we'll burn them. They've had all week to dry out from last week's rain. We could have burned them wet. That would have really endeared us to our neighbors, don't you think? We can burn leaves in Effingham -- until 6 pm. What a nostalgic fragrance that is -- burning leaves. It smells like childhood autumns.

We also have a big firepit. For that, I needed another electric toy. A saw. It's good for limbs up to about an inch thick.

Black & Decker, I love you!

We did, at least, hire someone to take care of the lawn. It's the same reliable person who says he'll take care of snow removal for us. Allyn is really dependable and we feel ourselves most fortunate to have made his acquaintance.

During the evening hours, I'm painting kitchen cabinets. There are a lot of cabinets. That suits me just fine because I have accumulated a lot of dishes over the years.

Effingham is about a three hour drive from the Chicago area. It's practically due south on I-57. We stop at Rantoul, the halfway point, and fill up our car. The price of gas is almost always ten cents cheaper in Rantoul than in Chicago, and many times, about a nickel cheaper than in Effingham.

Then we head back on Monday in time for counseling appointments, then on to Trinity Lutheran Church in Tinley Park, Illinois, at 7 pm for worship.

My point is, I will be thinking of you.

We don't have our DSL connected yet in Effingham -- or cable TV for that matter. We are getting caught up on our reading though. So, unless we get out to one of those WI-FI places, I won't be able to post a blog until we get back to Chicago area on Monday.

Which reminds me. Several weeks ago, we did get into one of those WI-FI places -- it's the Great American Bagel store in Effingham. We wanted to check the weather to see what we were in for as we made our way north. So we settled in and got our wireless up and running when the owner came over and congratulated us. He said he'd had the WI-FI connected for about eight months but we were the first people to use it.

I was surprised. Then he said that actually a lady had come in a few weeks before us and wanted some of that "free wiffy coffee" that he had advertising on his marquee. It said "Free Wi-Fi and coffee." He said he gave her the coffee anyway because he didn't want to embarrass her. Wasn't that nice?

I especially like reading your e-mails about the blogs. Thank you for writing. For those who haven't written yet but are thinking about it, just remember to put something in the subject line that will give me a clue that you are responding either to the web site or to the blogs.

All my best,

Jane Reinheimer

Charles S. Ciccolella, assistant labor secretary for veterans' employment and training, says it's a myth that service members pick the military because of limited employment opportunities. "That's absolutely flat wrong," he says. "Today's service personnel are not only smart, they are well-educated, are very highly motivated, and are part of the best military this country has ever seen."

He continued, "They have the characteristics that matter the most: courage, honor, integrity, loyalty, and leadership."

It's an all-volunteer military. No more draft in the United States. No need to either.

New recruits pass through a Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) for a medical exam, drug test, HIV test -- all to ensure that they're fit for duty. Another test, the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, makes sure that they meet the military's aptitude standards.

Typically these recruits are above-average high school graduates. Army Master Sgt. Mark Schoeppner, an Army liaison officer, bristles at talk that military standards have dipped. "There's a perception that we will allow anybody in, and that's absolutely wrong," he said.

Career counselors at the MEPS station in Baltimore sit with recruits to review their options and help steer them to the military that most closely matches their interests and aptitude. "We want to ensure that when we put you in a particular area that we are setting you up for success."

"The overall concept for us in retainability," says Army Sgt. 1st Class Todd Dreeszen. He emphasizes that a good initial "fit" is a good indicator of how long a servicemember will stay in the military. "We're not looking at a single enlistment," he said. "We're looking for 20 years."

The Baltimore MEPS processes 8,000 recruits a year for all military services.

It's where new recruits enter as civilians through one door and leave as new men and women of the armed forces who have signed their military contracts and taken the oath of enlistment.

"This is a big step for me today," said Samuel Blevins, a new recruit. "This is a change of life, a change of direction. It's a part of growing up. I feel the chills."

 

I don't know if my exuberance for the job data report this morning is because of my business administration background and it's just an old interest that I've never let go of --

Or if it's because the economy is a never-ending conversational theme around our house with Quint and me tinkering around with notions that a good economy means everybody who wants to work has a job --

Or if it's because my mental health work says that when people are working, they have a better chance at well-being --

Or all of the above.

So, we wait on the edge of our seats on the first Friday mornings of each month, switching back and forth between MarketWatch and the Bloomberg Report to get the skinny from financial gurus on the floors of the exchanges.

Individually, we are all better off if we're working. We can buy more stuff for ourselves and our kiddos. We can make our mortgage payments. We can buy new cars. We can afford to put gas in the cars to go visit grandma and grandpa.

On a bigger level, those 92,000 new jobs pump a lot of money into the economy.

If those new workers pay only $13,000 in taxes, that pumps $1,196,000,000 into the economy. Yep. That one billion, one hundred ninety six million greenbacks.

Oh, and another part of this report is that the previous two months are revised on this most august of days in the economic cycle.

The September 2006 jobs report was revised to reflect 148,000 new jobs and the August jobs report is now revised to show 230,000 new jobs.

And the unemployment rate fell to 4.4%. That's the lowest rock bottom rate it's enjoyed since April 2001.

And earnings went up 0.4% for the American workers.

I also heard -- and this has nothing to do with the job reports, but it was interesting, nonetheless -- that the video game industry in this country has now reached an annual price tag worth $30 billion. That's a lot of off-with-your-heads Mortal Kombats and whatever else they do on video games. Never play a video game. I got creamed by my six year old grandson a few years ago and swore off them forever. These games are not for the slow reacting grannies like myself. But $30 billion? WOW!

We could almost clean up New Orleans for that much money.

With that kind of "pocket change" -- the kiddos are getting pretty close to the lipstick and eyeliner price tags. (Actually I don't think it's just the kids buying the video games anymore.) Although at any given time, my grandkids probably have more in their piggy banks than I do.

My idea of a video game is at http://www.dedge.com/flash/hangman -- it's a Halloween game sent to me by my good friend Joyce in Wisconsin.

Anyway, I've got some army numbers too. So come on back. I'll be adding blogs throughout the day.

 

I read with a great deal of interest that in Houston, the city fathers are going to install some kind of marker on a freeway underpass that will tell drivers how deep the water is during rainstorms. This follows two drownings in recent times because a mother tried to drive through the underpass. It was flooded. The woman and her 16-year-old daughter were in an SUV.

Okay -- this was a big deep flood. The SUV eventually was covered up in ten feet of water.

So who would try to drive through a ten foot flood?

For starters, someone who thought she could get through to the other side of the underpass. What she didn't realize, most likely, is what a lot of people do not know and that is -- an SUV will float in about two feet of water. And since they aren't really airtight -- like a boat -- they'll sink.

When any vehicle is going under -- another law of physics comes into play -- PSI -- or pounds per square inch. The water on the outside of the door is pushing against the door. Try pushing the door open with that much pressure.

We make big mistakes when we start trifling with Mother Nature.

Just remember not to drive into standing water at underpasses. And if you don't know how deep the water is, don't go in there.

 

I am a huge fan of William Buckley -- have read him for years but I disagree with his speech at Yale the other day that the Democrats should all withdraw from the November race.

Buckley, who is even more conservative than my dear Quint, was speaking in jest (I hope). He's surely smart enough to realize that if we only had one political party in this country, we'd have a dictatorship with a zillion little fifedoms planning palace coups.

No -- having only one party would mean that everybody would have to just about think alike. How boring would that be!?

To keep things in perspective, just remember that the politicians and their wannabees will do and say just about everything and anything to make sure the voters go to the polls. And hopefully, along the way, these voters can be persuaded to vote "correctly."

John Kerry can continue to stick his foot in his mouth -- George Bush can still call it "nukular" -- not nuclear -- and "relator" -- not realtor. Makes me no never mind.

Besides, we live in the Chicago area -- home of the Daley political dynasty. I remember some brilliant journalist asking the late Richard J. Daley why a certain politico hadn't been elected, to which Daley looked at the reporter and said with a real poker face, "Because he didn't get enough votes." It's hard to fight that logic.

My point is that we all have a way of sometimes saying the wrong thing at the most inopportune times -- of sticking our feet into our mouths -- of saying things one way when we meant another.

If we really try, we can all resurrect some style and grace from deep within if we truly want to go forward. Or we can dwell on all those "wrongdoings" and just stay stuck where we're at. It comes down to making a choice.

I, for one, believe that misery is overrated -- so my money is on the former.

Having said all that, I personally do not understand why anyone would want to be president. The minute you're elected, you have one whole big term (and maybe re-election) of never doing anything right -- if you hear what the "other" side is saying. And you never do anything "wrong" -- if you listen to your own party minions.

Just remember, folks -- it's the national debate that keeps America running on intellectual energy -- and sometimes maybe even hot air.

I, for one, like to hear the other opinions. I do not require everyone else to mirror my opinion.

When you compare just high school education (diploma or equivalency) of the general population in the U.S. (88%) to our military (99.3%), we've got an incredibly educated bunch of men and women protecting our freedoms, our borders, our national safety, and our way of life! Some say the U.S. military is the best educated in the world.

And they are all volunteers -- each and every one of them. But mind you, the Army doesn't take just anybody. Only three out of ten volunteers who try to get in are actually recruited.

But how about college?

The Air Force has 19.2% of its folks with college; the Army is at 12% higher education; the Navy is 6.6% and the Marines are 3.7%. Those figures are even higher among commissioned officers where 97.5% of these folks are college graduates.

That compares to 56% of the general population who have either some college coursework or a college degree on their resumes.

I say hats off to our military! They are bright. They are purposeful. And they love their country as much as we do.

In Quint's and my families, we have brothers, a son, cousins, uncles, nieces, nephews, grandfathers, fathers-in-laws and fathers who have either gone off to wars or served in peacetime.  We thank you -- each one of you for perpetuating the gift of freedom for the United States of America.

And we thank God for you.

I know -- what with freedom of speech and all, we can say what we want. Right?

Not! If you're a former presidential candidate who's giving some thought to maybe -- just maybe -- twist my arm a bit maybe -- running again, you ought to watch what you say. Remember those sound bytes? They're still haunting Kerry like a little bulldog nipping at his ankles.

So when John Kerry told students at Pasadena City College [to] "... study hard, you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. And if you don't, you get stuck in Iraq."

So what's the big deal? He said later that he was just trying to make a joke.

How funny is that?

I'd like to hear his joke about the war in the Pacific after Pearl Harbor was bombed from Mr. Kerry Comedian.

For fear of being accused of lacking any sense of humor at all, I'll give him his feeble attempt at humor. All right, he said he "botched a joke."

At last, I have something I can agree with Kerry on.

What I don't agree with him about is our military "getting stuck in Iraq" because they didn't do well in school -- that somehow the uneducated, stupid people are over there. Nothing could be further from the truth!

This is the same man that sponsored the notion, through his minnions, that Bush was as dumb as a box of rocks. Anybody who has an MBA from Yale -- like GW --  is far from "dumb as a box of rocks."

Keep in mind, folks, that Kerry is not the expert who ought to be running around talking about intelligence to anybody. 

Turns out, when their military entrance exams were compared, Kerry's I.Q. measured 120 while Bush's came up to 128. How about them apples!

To be perfectly honest, Kerry probably didn't actually say Bush was dumb as a box of rocks. He didn't have to. No political candidate has to go that far out on the limb -- Republican or Democrat. They all have minions who do that for them. Or spin doctors, or whatever they call them. Then when they get caught, they just stand there and shrug their shoulders and give you that "deer in the headlight" stare.

So now Kerry has hightailed it back to his home on the elitist New England coast where he can teach his blueblood mouth some new tricks. And maybe eat his fading away, over the hill words, "I apologize to no one."

'Nough said about that. We won't see Kerry much for the rest of this campaign. He just said he was going to stop campaigning because he didn't want the firestorm about his comments to become campaign fodder. He used the word "distraction." Sounds like he's pouting, to me.

Yeah, right.

Truth is, candidates that he was scheduled to co-appear with have sent the word out to him that he's uninvited. In other words, go ride your bike. Or go sailing. Or something. Just stay away from mikes. There are sharks in the water and they are hungry.

So forget Kerry. Another really poor idea of a joke was this lawyer type out in Maine who actually dressed up like Osama bin Laden, strapped some fake dynamite to his chest and carried a mean looking (fake though) rifle out onto the streets where he was waving the rifle around in traffic.

Wouldn't you think a 49 year old lawyer in Maine would have more smarts?

So along comes Mr. Policeman and orders him to drop the gun. The officer says he had to order the lawyer to drop the gun several times. If he's not careful, he could give lawyering a bad name.

Eventually, the lawyer complied, but he was charged with being "criminally threatening" anyway. The lawyer, Thomas Connolly, said he was protesting some changes in local tax rules.

Yeah, right.

Remember Connolly? He was the lawyer that got George Bush's arrest records (that were sealed) out of storage and thought he was going to be cute and publish them during the 2000 presidential election. (Bush had been arrested in 1976 for a drunk driving incident.)

So what was Bush's response to this surprise that made a big media splash during his first campaign? He looked straight into the camera and said, "It's the dumbest thing I ever did."

No alibi. No whitewash. Just plain ole honesty.