A site of satirical musings, commentary and/or rhetorical criticism of the world at large.

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Location: Southeastern, Pennsylvania, United States

Wednesday, September 30, 2009


One year ago today, I received a new valve and, to quote an old cliché, a new lease on life. This first year with one quarter of a new heart went fast. I’ve had several check-ups with my primary care physician, my cardiologist, and my cardiac surgeon and all are happy with my progress and the condition of the valve. They would be happier if I lost forty pounds or so, but that will be my project for the coming year.

The experience left many interesting memories. For example, there were the first few days after my surgery when they would only allow me to take liquids through a tube in my arm. Apparently the body is prone to retain water — a lot of it — after major surgery. In my case, I gained thirteen pounds, but a regimen of diuretics took care of the problem over the course of a few days. It was a very uncomfortable few days for more than one reason.

The staff at Lankneau watched the situation carefully. When they were convinced that I was passing as much liquid out as I was taking in, they allowed me to drink through my mouth again. In the meantime, I felt very strange. At one end, the diuretics made my bladder feel perpetually full, while at the other end my mouth was dry like sand dunes in the Sahara, and my lips weighted down like two slabs of granite. It was an odd feeling to say the least.

After a day or so, I was able to take liquids with a small sponge rubbed over a cup of crushed ice. I remember thinking that this little sponge was the greatest invention ever! I was still hurting, but my mouth felt water again. It was heaven! I was in love again! I wanted to take that little sponge and run away with it! Then, the next day, they gave me a full glass of water, and the sponge was quickly forgotten. I know, typical male, but that’s the way love goes sometimes.

Then there were a couple of close calls. One happened as they were putting me back into bed after my first trip off my back. One moment I’m leaning back towards the mattress, and the next minute I remember seeing a nurse feeling my ankles and saying over and over, “I can’t find a pulse! I can’t find a pulse!” The other nurse helping me said something about nearly losing me, but I didn’t bother to ask them what happened. I felt then as I do today: whatever the answer would’ve been was more information than I ever wanted to know.

Another close call happened when I awoke to find the nurse, the nurse supervisor, the doctor on duty and someone who, for all I know, just happened to wander in from the street at that moment, hovering over my bed. This reason for this conference in the middle of the night was that my blood sugar was at 40. At that point, the nurse went out for a cup of juice and graham crackers. I don’t remember feeling any worse at this particular moment since I was still flat on my back, but hey, if they wanted to treat me to a midnight snack why should I complain.

I went into this whole experience with very few expectations: either I would recover or this was meant to be the end of my life. I could very well have left life with the ceiling of the operating suite being the last thing I would see, and someone telling me, “We’re putting a catheter in your neck now,” the last sound I would hear.

God had other ideas.

It was not my time. I still have a part to play on the great stage of humanity. I still have a purpose to fulfill.

I continue to recover and fulfill my purpose. I know I haven’t gotten this far by myself. I’ve had so much good support from many people — my family, my friends, and my co-workers. I am grateful to have all of them in my now extended life, but most importantly I should thank Anne Marie, my mom, my cats, and my doctors.

All of you have given me many wonderful special blessings in the past year. Let’s hope these blessings will continue for many years to come.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember that sometimes success is nothing more than waking up each morning and realizing that you’ve earned the right to live another day to do good in the world.)

Friday, September 25, 2009

“Arf,” Says Sandy the Couch

A very unusual custody battle was decided recently in the state of New Jersey. The combatants, Eric Dare and Doreen Houseman, were never husband and wife because they didn’t even make it down the aisle. It was a couple who were engaged, lived together, and broke up. They didn’t have children, but they did share their lives with a pug dog, Dexter, which was the source of the custody battle.

Superior Court Judge John Tomasello ordered the couple to share custody of Dexter in five week intervals. This is all well and good, until you hear the judge's reasoning for this resolution. In an earlier ruling, Tomasello stated that the dog is not a child, but should be considered property to be divided when a relationship breaks up. He explained that, “Dogs are chairs. They’re furniture.”

Surely I thought some pet owners would howl (no pun intended) at this logic. So far, I haven’t heard any complaints. Interesting! Hire a convicted dog killer for your professional football team, and the mobs are out with their pitch forks and torches. Then, when someone suggests the idea that the family Great Dane could make a great rug in front of the fireplace, or the Belgian shepherd could double as a TV tray, or that a Chihuahua is perfect as a foot rest, or that Little Orphans Annie’s mutt could be converted into an Ethan Allen sectional, nary a paw is raised in protest.

Legal observers have speculated that this decision will set a precedent for future custody battles.

So now our pets are, in the eyes of New Jersey jurisprudence, nothing more than objects. Forget that they are living, breathing animals with the ability to feel pain, express affection for their human companions, and exhibit traits which we would call a personality.

This case got me thinking about the two cats in my life, Steven and Meredith. They are like children to Anne Marie and I. Now we can consider them as furniture, which opens a whole set of opportunities for their lives. They will no longer have to spend their days sleeping, eating, sleeping some more, using their box, sleeping some more, running around the house like maniacs, sleeping some more, and eating, all the while feeling depressed that — unlike mommy and daddy — they are unable to hold down steady employment.

Good news, kitties! You will now have actual duties to perform in the house. We just have to determine your suitability for our furniture needs.

Meredith, our gray tiger-striped female, could be useful as a chair cushion, if only she would sit still. She’s no fool; she realizes that she would be crushed under the weight of any human who sat on her. She’s very skittish, always has been, and not at all a touchy-feely feline. I’m sure this was a no-brainer from her point of view.

When Meredith sees a human asshole hovering overhead attempting a landing where she’s comfortable, she knows it's time to run like hell. Cats are lucky this way. They don’t have to deal with human assholes on a regular basis. Humans, on the other hand, have to deal with assholes everyday and do not always have the option to run away. Most times we just have to sit there and take it.

Steven, on the other hand, is ahead of the curve. He has been practicing the art of pets as furniture for awhile now. His usual routine is to stretch out on top of the couch, where any human who sits there could — conceivably — use him as a head rest. Anne Marie sits on the couch while she knits, but to date she has not taken advantage of Steven’s generosity. She doesn’t think that using pets as furniture is a good idea. This hasn’t stopped Steven from hitting her on the side of her head with his tail as he sleeps. I’ve thought that this is usually in reaction to a dream he is having — perhaps a nocturnal fantasy of him frolicking with the deer in the field behind our house — as opposed to a critique of her knitting.

This is an outlandish idea, not as ridiculous as the notion that everything Rush Limbaugh has ever said is correct, but it comes very darn close. I hope Judge Tomasello has a nice vacation soon so that he can recover from the obvious trauma he suffered while deciding this case. He may need a rested mind when he returns and faces a protest of animal rights activists and chair manufacturers.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember to curb your couch!)

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

...And the Republic Will Survive

Within Article II, Section One of the United States Constitution we find these words spelling out the qualifications for President: “No person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President...”

I mention this here because it is the central idea of a growing conspiracy theory movement challenging Barack Obama’s presidency. These theorists contend that Obama is not qualified because the circumstances of his birth do not fit the Constitutional definition of a natural born citizen. Critics of this movement have dubbed them “birthers”, a name which the conspiracy theorists have embraced with open arms.

The "birthers" are disputing the fact that Barack Obama was born in the state of Hawaii on August 4, 1961. They do not accept the birth certificate produced by Hawaii as official. On top of this, they have adopted a very narrow definition of the natural born citizen requirement. The "birthers" believe that a natural born citizen is any person who was born in the United States to parents who are also citizens of the United States. Talk about digging themselves a deep the president’s case, Obama’s mother was indeed a citizen of the United States, but his father was a citizen of the African nation of Kenya, where the "birthers" believe Obama was actually born.

Even if Obama was born in Kenya, I don’t understand what the big deal is. After all, it’s not like he is the first man elected President that was not a natural born citizen. In fact, the first one not born in the country and elected President was George Washington. The next non-native to be elected President was John Adams. The next one not from this country and yet elected Commander-in-Chief was Thomas Jefferson...actually ten of the first twelve men who served in the White House were not natural born citizens.

My reasoning for this admittedly strange twist of historical interpretation is this: these men could not have been born in the United States because technically the United States did not exist as a legal entity when they were born! The United States did not legally come into existence until the Constitution was signed in September of 1787! Anyone born in the colonies (which were later admitted as states in the new country) prior to this date should — technically — not be considered natural born citizens!

Granted there is the small phrase, “or a citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution”, which was probably intended as a “grandfather clause”. If this phrase is a catch-all to make anyone born in the colonies retroactively eligible to be President, then it blows my theory out of the water. Still, my theory is no more illicit than the "birthers" idea of who is and who isn’t qualified to run the Executive Branch.

So if we apply the "birthers" definition of a natural born citizen to those who were elected President, then fully one quarter of those men were not qualified for the job in the first place. Not that there’s a whole lot that can be done about it now. After all, whatever happened 200 years ago happened. History cannot be rewritten. It can be reinterpreted to fit our needs, but it can’t be undone.

Regardless of what happened then, and whether or not the person doing it was constitutionally qualified to do it, the fact remains that the republic survived. The Washingtons, Adamses, Jeffersons, and all the rest from our early history took their roles of Chief Executive seriously and did not, as some have feared, sell the country out to a foreign power. The same will happen again if it turns out that Obama is not a natural born citizen: the republic will survive.

So go on, "birthers", go and conspire away all you want. The rest of us are too busy for your crap. We, the natural born citizens of the United States, will be helping President Barack Obama make this country a better place to live.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember to check your birth certificate for authenticity.)

Friday, September 18, 2009

Rumor Hasn’t – September 2009

It’s time once again to deny, dispute, and/or otherwise invalidate the following rumors, which I just made up.

It is not true that...

1 ...the Philadelphia Eagles will sign Lockerbie bombing suspect, Abdelbaset Ali Mohemed Al Megrahi, to be a back-up quarterback.

2 ...Kanye West will start writing a blog on the subject of etiquette.

3 ...South Carolina Representative Joe Wilson will be admonished by the US Congress by smacking him on the nose with a rolled up copy of The Washington Post while Nancy Pelosi yells, “Bad! Bad Congressman!”

4 ...Octomom Nadia Suleman and Kate Gosselin will combine their broods to go up against the entire Duggar clan, who have just announced that they are expecting baby #19, in a pay per view smack down.

5 ...the Philadelphia Eagles will hire convicted mass murderer Charles Manson for their public relations department.

6 ...Kanye West and Congressman Joe Wilson will host a reality-based show called Sour Grapes.

7 ...Mr. Duggar will retire from making babies and move into a killer bachelor pad with Jon Gosselin.

8 ...Birthers and tea baggers will get a life.

9 ...Kanye West will write a self-help book How to be a Public Nuisance and an Overall General Pain-in-the-Ass to Society.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember: let’s be civil out there!)

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Is It Tuesday Yet?

I only ask this question because our society largely ignores this day. Many of us think of it as a good buffer between the dreaded Monday and the middle-of-the-week Wednesday. Friday gets all the attention because, if you reach that day, then you know you have a forty-eight break from the daily grind ahead of you.

Obviously Friday has a better publicity agent.

Think of it: you get into work by 9:00a Monday morning, review all of the work that lays in front of you, and by 9:05 you’re asking yourself, “Is it Friday yet?” We don’t think, “Is it Tuesday yet?” because we don’t think incrementally. We don’t think at the end of Monday, “Okay, one day is down,” or “We’re one day closer to our next break.” No, our anxieties won’t allow us to think so small. We have to make the great leap to Friday – four days hence — to sooth our jangled nerves.

It occurred to me that the loathing of Mondays and the exalted praise heaped upon Fridays is a phenomenon of so-called advanced societies. We’re advanced economically because our society is not dependent upon hunting and gathering or even agriculture to survive. These two industries are still practiced in advanced cultures, but they’re usually smaller components of a more complex inter-connection of occupations.

Let’s compare our society to a strictly hunting-gathering culture of say, indigenous Australians living in the Great Victoria Desert. This is usually recognized as a primitive culture because they may not have all of the modern conveniences of the advanced civilizations, yet they do survive with skills that have been handed down to generation to generation for millions of years. If my memory of a college world cultural geography serves me correctly, I recall that the men hunt for food by sticking sticks into holes and consuming whatever grasps onto the stick, while the women will gather other fruits and nuts, or any other edibles laying on the ground. Sometimes the hunters will get lucky and come home with something larger like, for example, a lizard. Then it’s feast time.

Keep in mind my impressions of such primitive cultures are largely derived from a film I saw in college thirty years ago, and for all I know, the film itself could have been 25 years old when I saw it. In other words, the film was produced with all the sensibility of the Eisenhower era. For a good reference point, watch any episode of “Mad Men” and you’ll see what I mean. I should also allow that since some decades have elapsed since this film was produced, that the people I believe to be part of a primitive culture could be a bit more sophisticated by now. For example, at this very moment, they could be tweeting each other with the message, “Isn’t Gunther a real dork?”

My point is that I doubt that people living in a primitive culture assign designations to those time periods when the sun is in the sky. When the sun is up it is time to hunt and eat. When the sun goes down it is time to rest. I doubt that they go out hunting on a Monday knowing it is a Monday. They have no frame of reference that enables them to look forward to Saturday. A lizard caught on a Monday is just as good as a lizard caught on a Saturday. They don’t think of the week in terms of five days of work, then two days of rest. No, they have no choice but to think of life as seven days of work, and when the sun rises after the seventh day, the cycle starts all over and with it the search for more sustenance.

They don’t feel anxiety 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year. No, they feel the anxiety all 365 days of the year, regardless if it is Monday, Tuesday, or Saturday. It is the same old grind that goes on and on and on.

So are we luckier that we jam all of our worries and anxieties into 5 days of the week? Maybe, although stacking all of our stress into certain days of the week will surely take its toll on our health eventually. Yes, we see the weekends as times of respite, but actually we just trade weekday stress for weekend stress when we feel we have to get everything done in 48 hours that we couldn’t accomplish in the hours away from work during the week. In this regard, we’re just fooling ourselves.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember to pass the roast lizard.)

Friday, September 11, 2009

A Disturbance in the House

President Barack Obama assembled the full Congress this week to discuss the details of his health care reform plan. His intention when the movement started was to put forth a few general ideas about his goals for reform and then let Congress negotiate a final package. Unfortunately, the idea backfired, and instead of a healthy debate about the pros and cons about the myriad ideas to achieve Obama’s goal, the nation witnessed a rebellious attitude serving up misinformation by a group of supposedly intelligent people who should have known better.

However, since I already ripped new assholes for conservative Republicans in my last entry, I will cut them a break today. Well, actually, I’ll give them all a break, except one. That one is the Honorable Joe Wilson (R) of South Carolina.

The use of the word “Honorable” in that last paragraph is an example of decorum, or the proper way to address a member of Congress. It is part of the protocol of what is considered good and proper behavior in the House and/or Senate chambers. I’m defining all this now, because Congressman Wilson seriously violated protocol during the President’s address.

During the course of his speech, Obama reiterated his main goals of reform and struck down one-by-one the misconceptions about his plan that have dominated town hall meetings and conservative talk radio shows across the country. One of these misconceptions was the idea that illegal immigrants would benefit from the public plan Obama is favoring. The President stated that that was a lie; the Honorable Joe Wilson exercised his First Amendment right, but totally forgot about protocol, when he shouted back, “That’s a lie.”

His reaction stopped Obama’s speech momentarily. He smiled, and then proceeded as if nothing happened. On the other hand, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi glared at the Congressman. News reports also state that Michelle Obama “pursed her lips and shook her head” at the interruption.

Now you’re in trouble, Congressman Wilson! Not only may you face some sort of punishment from your House colleagues, but it seems that you’ve pissed off the First Lady! Fortunately for you, House protocol will prevent her from putting on her high heel shoes, coming down to the House floor, and opening up a can of whoop ass! On the other hand, you might not be so lucky with Nancy Pelosi.

Keep in mind that whoop ass hasn’t been opened since Preston Brooks (another South Carolinian) beat the crap out of Charles Sumner with a cane in 1856. The attack crippled Sumner for several years, and (some historians believe) strengthened the resolve of the then struggling Republican Party. Undoubtedly, Congress has sought to maintain a high level of decorum ever since to avoid a repeat of such assaults.

As far as suitable punishment for your actions, Congressman, the House has several options. Since we don’t live in a totalitarian regime (like, say, Libya), then you won’t face crucifixion or a firing squad. Besides, that would set a bad precedent. After all, you are human, like many other of your colleagues across the aisle and prone to make mistakes.

There is the Congressional tradition of censure, but I’m not really sure what that entails. Does that mean the other Congressional delegation refuses to speak to you? Would you get shunned like some religious sects do with their outcast members? Would you be suspended from Congressional committees temporarily? Would you lose the right to use the Congressional subway? Does this go on your permanent record? Will the Speaker of the House be obligated to send a note home to your parents? Or does censure mean nothing more than the entire Congress gathers together just for the purpose of wagging a scolding finger at you? I really don’t know, but whatever I’m sure the punishment doesn’t fit the crime.

Perhaps we should take pity on you, Honorable Mr. Wilson. After all, the people in your state have had a rough time of it in recent years. Your hospitality industry suffered a boycott a few years ago when your state legislature insisted on flying the Confederate flag — a recognized symbol of racism — over the state capitol building. Then, more recently, your governor abandons the entire state to commune with nature “along the Appalachian trail” (wink wink nudge nudge!).

We realize that you have apologized to the President, which he accepted graciously according to more recent news reports. Still, I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson. Remember, you shouldn’t call the President a liar when he is a guest in the House. There is a time and a place for such behavior, and that place is talk radio, where the rest of us won’t have to hear your rude behavior.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember Congresspeople should be seen and not heard, especially when the President is a guest speaker in their House.)

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

A Time Out for Conservative Republicans

Today, President Barack Obama will present a pep talk to the nation’s school students about the importance of working hard in school to achieve their goals. He will point out to them that success is hard work, but they all have the chance to take advantage of the opportunities that American society has to offer. Obama will further state that their achievements will help make America a better country.

How do I know this? Okay, I admit I cheated. I read the text of the President’s speech yesterday just after it was released by the White House on the Internet. I held off commenting on the speech until I had read it, because otherwise I would not have known what I was talking about.

This is, I believe, the most intelligent method to talking about a subject. You research it, you read up on it, and you study it from different angles before you even think about discussing the issue. Obviously, this is a concept that is totally alien to those close-minded individuals who resort to stereotyping, to profiling, to making up derogatory accusations about the subject purely because they do not like the messenger.

Many, but not all people described above, could be identified as conservative Republicans. Several people in this group voiced the most salacious and vile accusations last week about Barack Obama’s speech to the nation's schools. They accused the President of using the speech to spread his “socialist agenda”. How could they do this last week, when the speech wasn’t released for public inspection until yesterday?

Did they have an advance copy of the speech? Doubtful! Did they consider the source of the message and assume that it ran counter to everything they believe in? Yes, that is exactly what they did. Did they fabricate stories about the speech to further their anti-Obama arguments because the speech hadn’t been released yet? The answer to that one is obvious. Your honor, I rest my case.

Socialist agenda mentioned in the body of the speech? No, the words socialism, socialist, or socialistic do not appear in the text. Marx and Engels praised as saviors of economic theory? Nada. Clauses drawing comparisons between the student’s hard work and workers controlling the means of production? Hell no!

Conservative Republicans, you should be ashamed of yourselves. This whole episode has exposed you as not having open minds to opposing points of view. Where do you expect to regain the credibility — any credibility — you’ll need to thoughtfully debate the issues facing America after this debacle? You people need a time out.

Go now, stand in the corner, and don’t even think about saying anything until we - those of us who think before we speak — tell you to. While you’re in the corner, think about what your actions have done to this country and to yourselves. I hope you realize how very foolish you look right now.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember the words of Mark Twain, who once said, “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool, then to open it and remove all doubt.”)

Friday, September 04, 2009

Television Hell, or I Survived the Brady Bunch Variety Hour

I heard a radio interview recently with Susan Olsen, who rose to fame playing the youngest daughter, Cindy, on the classic family situation comedy, The Brady Bunch. The show ran for a few seasons on ABC, but, like many other television shows from that era, it did not go quietly into the night. It has been revived and resurrected almost endlessly in syndication ever since its last original broadcast. Of course, any baby boomer worth their salt can recite the words of the series theme song. No, I won’t bore you with a recitation here, mainly because I seem to be short on salt today.

I called The Brady Bunch a classic show in the previous paragraph, but, believe me, that is not my assessment. I wasn’t a big fan of the show, but I did nevertheless see enough episodes to remember that Peter broke Marcia’s nose with a misthrown football; Jan got grounded from a family ski trip because she snuck out of the house late at night to post a letter to a contest praising her stepfather, Mike; and the female side of the family couldn’t decide on which sewing machine to redeem their supermarket savings stamps. I repeat, I was not a fan.

Now Olsen has co-written a book (Love to Love You, Bradys) about another show in which she starred, The Brady Bunch Variety Hour. It was modeled after The Donny and Marie Show and The Captain and Tennille Show. These were all variety shows which featured the stars singing (and sometimes dancing), performing comedy skits by themselves and/or with a guest star of the week, who could also do a turn singing (and sometimes dancing). There is one crucial thing to remember about The Brady Bunch Variety Hour: it never rose to the quality level of the worst episode of The Brady Bunch. In a word, it stunk.

I can remember vividly some images from the one episode I saw. Nationally known radio deejay Rick Dees performed the follow-up to his musical parody, Disco Duck, entitled Disgorilla.

I am not making this up!

Many variety shows in television history featured a dancing troupe (usually all female) as part of the show. The June Taylor Dancers on The Jackie Gleason Show are probably the most famous group to come to mind. The Brady Bunch Variety Hour not only had dancers, but they also had synchronized swimmers. So the other image burned into my brain from this episode is a shot of females underwater dancing around like a gorilla would on a disco dance floor.

I repeat, I am not making this up! This performance is on YouTube if you don’t believe me.

I had psychological therapy years ago for adjustment reaction. It helped me immensely, even though the trauma of watching The Brady Bunch Variety Hour never came up in conversation. I must have repressed that memory. Anyway, my problems vanished a few months later when I met the love of my life, Anne Marie. Ever since then, my life has been nothing but sunshine and lollipops, although if you ask Anne Marie about life with me she’ll probably use terms like “darkness” and “gruel”. It’s for the best if no one ever asks Anne Marie about living with me, but I digress.

My point here is that while many of my other adolescent traumas have been dealt with sufficiently, The Brady Bunch Variety Hour remains a bleeding, oozing lesion on my psyche.

During the interview Olsen was asked why should anyone read this book. She admitted that this was one time when television did partake of “the brown acid” and it should be seen as a cautionary tale. In other words, history could repeat itself and shows like this could get produced again! Boy, it that’s not a threat, I don’t know what is!

So thank you, Susan Olsen, for showing us how bad television can be. The show is considered one of the worst ever produced, but not the worst. That honor goes to My Mother, The Car. No, I don’t know if anyone has written a book about that series, and even if I did, I’m not up to inflicting that information on my dear readers.

(Thank you for reading. Please remember the 70’s with kindness, and not for the drug-induced fog many people experienced during those years.)

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Snort Notes – September, 2009


Has this event happened yet? I really don’t know. The last date I heard for a probable burial was today, September 1, but that date was set weeks ago. Since then, the Los Angeles coroner’s office has ruled that Jackson’s death was a homicide, and that fact in itself could lay the groundwork for further delays in laying Michael Jackson to rest.

Speaking of groundwork, someone should dig the hole, oh, roughly three feet by seven feet and six feet deep. Then lower the casket, refill the hole, and suddenly it’s over and everyone has closure. I don’t understand what the delay is. Yes, I’ve heard the old saying about services at the family’s convenience, but come on now; he died over two months ago! Get it over with and let’s move on!


The Obamas have officially ended their first vacation by returning to the White House looking like any other typical American family returning from vacation: tired, haggard, and miserable. Of course, this is all just keeping up their public personas. I’m sure that deep down they are eager and anxious to get back into the old grind, and roll up their sleeves to surmount the challenges that lie ahead...NOT!

Okay, to be absolutely fair, they did not have all fun and sunshine on their vacation. Their rest was interrupted by the funeral for Senator Edward Kennedy, an event which would bring anyone’s week down. Still, it’s the time which elapsed between Kennedy’s death and his final burial which is most remarkable given the history of some other recent celebrity passings. I don’t want to mention any names, but I hope the Jackson family is taking notes.


The outrage over the release to adoring throngs continues and is putting a definite crimp in Moammar Khadafy’s efforts to rebuild his international image as an anti-terrorist. Protests are being planned to picket his appearance this month at the United Nations. One United States legislator is calling for an investigation into the release, given British newspaper reports that it was part of a larger oil deal with Libya.

So the score so far is Khadafy is having a public relations headache. Strangely, no one seems to give a damn about his predicament. Congress is being called upon to investigate an event that is clearly way out of their jurisdiction. Seriously, what can we do about it? Have another tea party? Boycott fish and chips? Shake our fist at the British government? Oh, yeah, I’ll bet they’re really scared now.

Sometime in the near future, al-Meghari will succumb to the cancer which Scottish authorities claim he has. I doubt there’ll be much crying on this side of the pond when he finally dies. Of course, if there’s any justice at all, we could fix things so that the Jackson family is placed in charge of his funeral arrangements. Yeah, I’m sure that’ll make things right.

(Thank you for reading. Please live today as if it were the day after yesterday, but the day before tomorrow!)