Play One on TV

Think you can put anything you want on your MySpace account? A school district in Libertyville, Illinois believes otherwise:

High school students are going to be held accountable for what they post on blogs and on social-networking Web sites such as MySpace.com.

The board of Community High School District 128 voted unanimously on Monday to require that all students participating in extracurricular activities sign a pledge agreeing that evidence of “illegal or inappropriate” behavior posted on the Internet could be grounds for disciplinary action.

I don’t have a problem with reporting illegal behavior. If a kid threatens to kill his parents, deal drugs at school, or watch a Pauley Shore movie, I agree that a school official (or anyone else, for that matter) should act on that information.

However, it’s that word “inappropriate” that gives me the heebee-jeebies. Who the heck gets to decide what is or isn’t appropriate? The school officials? I don’t think so! Cam Edwards says it best:

Knuckleheaded school administrators? You know, those brainiacs who suspend kids for carrying Advil and accidentally leaving butter knives in their cars. I’m sorry but these people can’t use judgement in those instances, why should I trust they’ll use good judgement when it comes to determining what is ‘inappropriate’ behavior?

I trust my son’s school with many things — his education, his physical well-being while at school, and the development of his critical thinking skills. I do not trust them with the development of his ethical or moral judgement — that’s my job.

To put it simply: school districts have no business policing the behavior of children when they’re off campus. Yes, you can make the case that some parent can’t or won’t take care of their children. But that’s why we have social services; there’s no need for the schools to get involved.

What’s next, policing the content of the parent’s blogs? If that’s the case, my son is so expelled.

A few days ago, I was listening to Libertarian commentator Neal Boortz on the radio. He was aiming a particularly scathing rant at Wal-Mart. Normally, Neal is a bit bullish on anything that fosters economic development and free trade, so attacking the giant poster-boy for American capitalism seemed a little out of character for his show. Then he explained why — Wal-Mart wants to buy some land, and they are threatening private landowners with eminent domain seizures if they won’t comply.

The world’s largest retailer, battling to build a huge new distribution center in Putnam County (Florida), is threatening a handful of rural residents that they may have their land taken if they don’t agree to sell it to the company.

Representatives of Wal-Mart have told the landowners they will ask Putnam County to use its powers of eminent domain if the families won’t sell.

Across the country, another group of embattled residents are taking a page from Wal-Mart’s book of dirty tricks:

Wal-Mart Stores Inc. is known for its hardball tactics, but the little city of Hercules (California) has come up with some muscle of its own in a bid to keep the big-box retailer out.

The City Council in the affluent Bay Area suburb will hold a hearing Tuesday to consider using the power of eminent domain to seize the 17 acres where Wal-Mart intends to build a shopping complex.

What goes around, comes around. Sometimes I think Wal-Mart does some of Target’s best advertising for them.

UPDATE: According to Cam Edwards, the threat apparently did not come from Wal-Mart, but from the consulting firm charged with finding a suitable site for the distribution center. Wal-Mart had not authorized the letter and has apologized to the landowners. Sam Walton, you may now stop spinning in your grave.

This is an article about Andrea Koppel, a congressional correspondent for CNN (and former State Department correspondent and Beijing Bureau Chief.) But we’ll get to her in just a minute.

In recent years, a new word has entered into the vernacular of the Average American male. That word is newsbabe.

I still remember the day that the newsbabe phenomenon first hit my hometown of Oklahoma City. It was back in the late 70’s. The national news front was ruled by the likes of Harry Reasoner and Walter Cronkite, people who would be called “newbabes” only in the worst imaginable deserted-island scenario.

My parents obtained most of their television news from the local ABC affiliate, KOCO-TV, which sported the official-sounding moniker of Channel 5 Eyewitness News. The news desk consisted of a trio of men representing the holy triumvirate of news, weather, and sports. These gentlemen embodied the most desirable qualities of the 70’s talking head — serious expression; conservative suit, and a professional vocal timbre. Their job was to put you at ease, making you feel like the news was being delivered at the safe, conservative hands of your uncle (the one who works as a stockbroker downtown and loans money to everyone else in the family).

Around 1978, someone at Channel 5 decided that “Eyewitness News” wasn’t making the grade. People wanted more spice and verve in their news delivery. Being on the cusp of puberty at the time, I didn’t realize that they were really talking about sex appeal. In other words, the station needed to get down, funky, and a little more bodacious.

Exit Eyewitness News. Enter 5 Alive. I’m not sure what possessed them to take a name like “5 Alive”. To me, it sounded like a new fruit juice concoction, or maybe the title of some airplane disaster movie. (Given the right combination of filmmaking and sponsorship, perhaps both).

Along with this hot-blooded and juicy new name came a new breed of hot-blooded and juicy newscaster, transplanted off the modeling runway and into the Oklahoma living room. 5 Alive took the former newscaster position and farmed it out to two new people, one male and one female. The station also took the age of the former newscaster and divided it up between the newbies. I only remember the identity of the female — Jayne Jayroe, a former Miss Oklahoma turned Miss America who actually used her scholarship money for something more useful than a sociology degree. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the name of the male anchor; suffice to say that he looked like the generic football quarterback from high school who dated the head cheerleader and was voted “Most Likely to Blind People with His Teeth.”

I still remember the night that the “beautiful people” made their debut on 5 Alive. The channel had been hyping this first appearance for the better part of the preceding month — it was “5 Alive” this and “5 Alive” that. There was speculation on who these new youngbloods were; what was their hair color; what sign they were born under; how they liked their steaks; etc. The day finally came, the clock clicked to 10:00 pm, and there they were: Jayne and the Blonde fellow, serving up the news with perky little grins and trite little quips.

Oh, it was the same old news — people lived, people died, disasters happened, area moms got profiled for their rhubarb pie recipe — yet it was delivered with a thrilling undercurrent that Eyewitness News could never have done without illegal amounts of aphrodisiacs. Even at the tender age of 12, I knew that the “tension at ten” had been nudged ever-so-slightly upward. A new component had entered the arena of newscasting. Journalistic skill, encyclopedic knowledge, professional integrity, and incredible diction were no longer the only necessary traits of a successful television news anchor. Now, the potential talking head also had to, at the very least, look like he or she just walked off the magazine rack at the grocery store (you know, with all those magazines my son always asks me about, like, “Dad, what’s an orgasm?”)

Ever since that time, the sexual component of the nightly news has been… er, on the rise. Don’t get me wrong - back in the 70’s and even the 80’s, I wasn’t complaining much. It made my teenage and young adult years that much more enjoyable, watching the likes of Deborah Norville breathing deeply over the plight of refugees in Ethiopia.

However, as I got older, I discovered something about myself. The newsbabes, cute though they were, just weren’t getting my attention the way they used to. And it wasn’t just these divas of the journalism set — I was finding out that my standards of beauty were becoming less attached to the physical. Plainly put, I was failing to see how a lot of these women rated the “all that and a bag of chips” label.

I guess the first sign of my newscaster worship dysfunction came during my college years when, much to my dismay, I developed a thing for Lynne Russell. Yes, out of the wide gamut of female personalities that have traipsed in and out of the doors of Ted Turner’s news empire, my heart chose to flip-flop at the feet of the statuesque and bespectacled Ms. Russell. Even then, I understood that she was no classic beauty, yet there was something about her that spoke to my inner news junkie. She had poise, grace, class, and charm. At least, so her Economic Summary reports seemed to indicate.

This choice of Lynne Russell over Deborah Norville tells a lot about me. Given a choice between the sexually-charged pressure of a Jennifer Eccleston or a Paula Zahn versus the graceful demureness of a Lynne Russell (or even a Judy Fortin) I’ll choose grace over pressure every time.

It’s part of my overall makeup that I am attracted to women with graceful, not forceful, femininity. Ask my male friends and I to write down the names of beautiful actresses — they’ll be writing down Sandra Bullock, Jenifer Anniston, and Julia Roberts. I’ll be writing down Cate Blanchett and Emma Thompson (which I suppose may only prove that I have a thing for British women with overbites).

Heck, anyone who has met my beautiful wife will understand why I find culture, intelligence, and college-level vocabulary to be such a turn-on. Oh, and also short hair.

I realize I’m probably being horribly unfair to the hundreds of thousands of women involved in broadcast journalism. I’m sure that most of them are consummate professionals who work long and hard to achieve their positions in life. Which brings us back to Andrea Koppel.

In case you can’t guess from the surname, she is the daughter of that unforgettable standard of the nighttime news desk, Ted Koppel. However, don’t think her famous dad is getting her any special treatment — she’s a competent journalist in her own right, and she speaks fluent Mandarin Chinese, something that is normally impossible for any American not actually in the employ of the Chinese espionage services.

I ran across Ms Koppel a couple of years ago while channel surfing. I had stopped on a story about the reaction of the Chinese government to some capitalist thing or another (a twice-weekly event in China). The report was being delivered by a striking redhead with excellent diction, exacting detail, and an impressive vocabulary that included the word “conundrum.”

When her name flashed across the bottom of the screen, part of me was horrified to discover that I was checking out Ted Koppel’s daughter, and that you could definitely see the family resemblance. I’m not saying Ted is hideously ugly or anything, but he’s definitely not my first on my list of “People Who Rock Me Like a Hurricane.” Yet there she was, in all of her dignified glory, looking like Cate Blanchett. With ears.

Fortunately, with me being a married guy and all, none of these issues really matter all that much to me, including the bit about Jennifer Eccleston. Whether or not my nightly news is delivered by Andrea Koppel or Andre the Giant doesn’t approach the importance of, say, making sure my lawn is mowed. So why devote an entire article to Andrea Koppel and the other ghosts of newsbabes past?

Because I hate it when someone (like the media) tries to appeal to my baser instincts. The media companies had better put a stop to this petty attempt at buying my viewership with a pretty face, or else I’ll take my remote and go back to watching Stargate SG-1. If you want to tell me the news using the female vocal register, give me competence, intelligence, and accuracy, and leave the sex appeal at home.

However, if you absolutely, positively must do the sex appeal thing, please put on more of Andrea Koppel. Or even Judy Fortin. Thanks for listening.

Some illegal immigrants in the United States fear that the proposed “guest worker” program isn’t quite what it seems to be:

Martin Saucedo, an illegal immigrant from Michoacan, Mexico, would like to participate in a guest worker program like one Congress is considering as a part of sweeping immigration reform.

But he’s worried whether a proposal to grant millions of illegal immigrants a path to citizenship is really just an effort to find and deport them.

What, duplicity from the US government? Never! Only real citizens are allowed to be fooled by the government!

“Well this car is automatic (bamph!) it’s systematic (bamph!) it’s hyyyyy-dromatic (bamph!). Why, it’s Greased Lightnin’!”

- Danny Zuko in Grease

We live in a society obsessed with automation. Anything worth doing is worth doing automatically, systematically, and even hydromatically. This was true in Danny Zuko’s day and it’s never been more true today. It seems that modern engineers can automate anything. We live in a world where some of our most advanced technologies — computer chips, infrared emitters, lithium batteries — are routinely combined to make something as pedestrian as a television remote control.

Lately, I have started to consider myself a counter-revolutionary on the matter of increasing automation in my life. Now, I’m no Luddite — I’ve made a career in the Information Technology field, and I’m not about to bite the hand that feeds me. Besides, automation and computerization makes it possible for me to use this very website to inflict my opinions on an unwary public. Automation, in and of itself, is not necessarily evil incarnate.

However, there’s just a few things in my life that I would still rather do myself. In fact, there are a few things in life that I can do better than any automated device, such as maneuvering a lawnmower, shifting an automobile transmission, or even cleaning out the cat’s litter box.

A friend has one of those automated litter box cleaners, and I swear it looks like a laser printer that just came in from a nice laydown at the beach. For $100, this device will eliminate the need to “scoop the poop” out of the box. At regular intervals, this automated wonder drags a little rake through the litter tray, gathering up the various unmentionables into a hidden basket. At the expense of a few watts of electricity, you have one neat baggie of ditty doo-doo ready for disposal, and your hands remain unsullied by the handle of a poop scoop.

Of course, God forbid that the cleaning cycle should go off while the cat is actually in the box doing his thing. There are safeguards in place to prevent this conflict of interest, but as anyone who has ever owned an American automobile will attest, safeguards are only as good as the length of the manufacturer’s warranty. In my friend’s case, the safeguards failed in the worst possible way: his cat was disturbed at a most inopportune moment by what must have looked like a possessed winnowing fork. To say that the cat was frightened would be an understatement. Suffice to say that, to this day, he insists on peeing in the spot next to the litter box.

This, to my mind, is automation that I don’t need. To save $100 and several carpet cleaning bills, I will gladly scoop cat poop by hand.

Our attraction to automated convenience can be a gilded cage that robs us of our independence. Ask any kid who has ever lived through a power outage. He’s living his worst nightmare because he’s never conceived a scenario where an X-Box would refuse to power up. He’s not worried about finding food, or shelter, or even about getting up a quick game of hide-and-go-seek. He’s convinced that the entire world is on hold until the power company comes ’round with their magic truck.

Lest you think that we adults are immune from this comfortable world-view, think about your recent bathroom experiences. Chances are that you’re having to push fewer controls than ever before. During a recent business meeting at an unfamiliar office, I went to the bathroom for the usual reasons. This seemed to be a fairly modern office building, so I was surprised to find that the sinks didn’t work. I waved my hands several time under the sink faucet, trying to figure out how to tell the little sensor “I’m here and I’m dirty, so wash me.” Finally, the puzzled guy at the next sink said, “You have to used the handles.”

The knobs were right there in front of my face, yet I had dumbly persisted in the notion that the water would come on automatically if I just waved like I was directing landings on the carrier Nimitz. I had forgotten how to use a manual sink. I looked at my now beet-red face in the mirror. You know what I saw? A shell-shocked kid whose X-Box no longer worked.

I hesitate to call it a crusade, but I am now making a point of going out of my way to curb my dependence on unnecessary automation. Oh, I’ll still take elevators and let my PDA remind me of appointments. But if I’m given a choice between an automatic and a manual bathroom, I’ll take mine with handles.

Besides, what else can they automate? The stall doors open and close by themselves; the toilet flushes automatically once my posterior retreats to a suitable distance; the sink turns on and off with a wave of my hand; the paper towel dispenser starts dispensing as soon as I reached for it; even the trash cans have automatic lids, kind of like Oscar the Grouch’s house. There’s only one thing in that bathroom left to automate, if you think about it.

You can keep that action to yourself, thank you very much.

Call this story a morbid take on “waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Perhaps investigators need to be talking to this guy.

Remind me not to go fishing at Lake Thunderbird anytime soon.

The other day, I was responding to a poll from a market research company. This firm occasionally pays me real money for my time, so I try to be helpful and tolerant when they make their infrequent calls. On this particular call, I caused a bit of surprise in the household when I responded to the “political tendencies” question with the word “Libertarian.”

My wife found this incredibly funny. For most of my life, I dismissed Libertarians as a well-meaning but ineffective segment of the political spectrum. I considered myself a “moderate,” one of those enlightened individuals who picked and chose his candidates by will and will alone. Kind of like a Chinese buffet, only with the left and right sides clearly labeled in English. My wife, on the other hand, considered me a liberal, plain and simple. I suspect this may have something to do with my stance on the Iraqi War and my willingness to laugh out loud, with little provocation, at our current President.

Only recently have I begun to suspect that my indirection, as it were, actually contained a real direction. I used to see the political spectrum as a rational number line, with negative and positive numbers and me at number zero. Now I’m beginning to see some range of motion in the middle.

Both the left and the right are concerned about civil liberties, although they differ mightily on which liberties are most important. For example: a woman’s right to choose vs. a baby’s right to live. A criminal’s right to fair trial vs. the rights of the victims and their families. The rights of the moviegoing public vs. the rights of Pauley Shore to make a sustainable living. Each of these stances require us to care about one side or the other. I’m a little different. Sometimes I care about both sides. And some other times, I’m tempted to chuck the warring parties into a volcano.

Every once in a while, I hop over to The Political Compass and take their little ten-minute quiz designed to graph my political beliefs. Almost without fail, I end up with a chart that looks like this, which shows some distinctive Libertarian ideals and just a smidge of conservatism. Once in a while, I end up with a chart like this, which means that my conservatism is more of a mood than a lifestyle.

Among my conservative family and friends, there is this distressing tendency to dismiss my moderate beliefs as being “just another brand of liberal.” Even more distressing is that my liberal friends believe the same thing!! They think I’m a liberal that hasn’t come out of the closet.

This bugs the hell out of me. It’s almost as if the wearing of political extremes on your sleeve has become mandatory business wear, and people like me are unhip and square. Those who dare identify themselves as “moderate” are painted as indecisive fence-sitters who are either terribly confused or simply lying to themselves.

I have opinions, damn it, and they’re not all “I don’t know.” Let me give you a few.
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My financial life is in perfect balance in harmony with nature — or at least with the IRS. For the first time in over 26 years of wage-earning and tax-paying, I have finally managed the impossible — I withheld from my paychecks almost exactly what was needed to satisfy my 2005 tax obligation.

Federal refund: $90.00
State tax due: $38.00

I will now accept your fawning praise. Wanna rub my calculator for luck?

This is an enormous improvement over past years where I have been off by as much as $2000 (in both directions, unfortunately). The W-4 dancing and related gyrations were finally worth it.

This almost certainly means that someoneat the federal or state level is planning to throw a legislative wrench into my perfect little world. Whoever said that the only certainties in life are death and taxes obviously never had to worry about the AMT (Alternative Minimum Tax).

Of course, I wouldn’t have to jump through all of these insane hoops if Congress would get on the stick and pass the Fair Tax Bill. But I’m not holding my breath — I’m more likely to see someone’s brains taken over by space aliens (and no, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes do not count).

NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter has just completed its first series of tests of a new high-resolution camera called a HiRise (High Resolution Imaging Science Experiment). And mission controllers everywhere breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t care what kind of warranty the camera has — postage and handling would be outrageous.

Alas, this will be one of the few images we’ll see for a while (be careful with that link - it’s over 4 mb in size). The spacecraft will be spending the next six months in aerobraking maneuvers. Once that’s done, I expect we’re going to see some fantastic photography.

Some may balk at our government using such hi-tech serveillance techniques on innocent Martian civilians. Serves them right for invading us, I say. It’s nice to know that we have such advanced technology in our arsenal. For my part, I was extremely uncomfortable with relying on Tom Cruise as our first line of defense.

Astronomers have spotted an alcohol cloud in deep space that measures 288 billion miles across:

The vast bridge-shaped cloud of methyl alcohol has been spotted in a region of our galaxy, the Milky Way, that is called W3(OH), where stars are being formed by the gravitational collapse of concentrations of gas and dust, the discoverers said in a press release.

In other news, Senator Ted Kennedy (D-Mass.) called for a renewed effort in US manned space travel.

The Borders/Waldenbooks chain is letting the terrorists win again:

Borders and Waldenbooks stores will not stock the April-May issue of Free Inquiry magazine because it contains cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad that provoked deadly protests among Muslims in several countries.

“For us, the safety and security of our customers and employees is a top priority, and we believe that carrying this issue could challenge that priority,” Borders Group Inc. spokeswoman Beth Bingham said Wednesday.

I woudn’t know an issue of Free Inquiry if it walked up and tapped me on the eyeballs, but I do know a case of kow-towing when I see it. Only in America would we have a tradition of relinquishing our hard-earned rights the instant someone waves a pipe-bomb. It’s unconscionable that an American literary institution, such a bookstore or library, would allow itself to being bullied into self-censorship.

I feel like I’m living in the land of the free and the home of the prudent.

Those who feel I am being overly critical would do well to remember the dust-up over the novel The Satanic Verses in 1988. For his criticism of Islam, Author Salman Rushdie was placed under an Islamic fatwa, or legal pronouncement, by the Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran. The fatwa called for the execution of Mr. Rushdie, preferably at the hands of the closest available Muslim.

As with the Danish cartoons, the Satanic Verses resulted in worldwide demonstrations, outbreaks of violence, and threats or assaults against associated persons. Rushdie himself went into hiding for several years. And the response of American bookstore chains? Like today, they pulled in their shingles and took the book off the shelves, citing “the safety of employees.”

At the time, my wife was the assistant manager at the local B. Dalton Bookseller, part of the Barnes and Noble chain. She and her fellow booksellers were in total disagreement to the corporate policy. Books were the reason that B. Dalton’s was in business, and to remove one out of fear for a foreign government was totally out of line with their personal beliefs. They complied with the order, but they felt wrong for doing it.

That very evening, they sat down and wrote an e-mail to corporate headquarters, expressing their disappointment in B&N’s decision. They were not alone. Hundreds of B&N stores did the exact same thing. As a result, Barnes and Noble reversed its decision within the week, citing the letters and comments made by their own employee base.

The number of American booksellers that died as a result of this decision: 0. As in zero. As in “we win, they lose.” Stick that in your hookah and smoke it.

I can only hope that Waldenbooks and Borders employees take a similar stance, and that their corporate heads begin to realize the depth of their mistake. Until that happens, I’ll be doing my bookshopping elsewhere.

This news came via Dan Lovejoy, who also won’t be visiting Borders anytime soon.

Undercover agents from the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission are arresting bar patrons for — get this — being drunk in public. Drunk people in bars? Never saw that one coming.

From the Reuters article:

Being in a bar does not exempt one from the state laws against public drunkenness, (Commissioner) Beck said. The goal, she said, was to detain drunks before they leave a bar and go do something dangerous like drive a car.

On the surface, this sounds reasonable. The only problem is that the TABC isn’t just targeting those who will eventually need to drive home. They’re also arresting patrons in hotel bars — actual guests of the hotel, to be precise. The whole “might do something dangerous” argument kind of loses steam when you’re talking about overweight out-of-town insurance salesmen at the local Best Western. Maybe the TABC worries that a drunk patron will run over and kill someone on that long walk to room 185.

If you ask me, someone in the TABC needed to make a boat payment and hit on this idea as a surefire fundraiser. Heck, these tickets practically write themselves! At this moment, revenue-minded sheriffs in every podunk town in Texas are saying to themselves, “Hey, why didn’t I think of that?”

Any resemblance to a Dukes of Hazzard episode is purely coincidental.

So I hear that the new Iraqi parliament was sworn into office today.

Wow - a brand-new democracy and they’re already swearing. Glad to see they’re paying attention.

I can’t wait to see their first intern scandal. But knowing the region, it will probably involve a pipe bomb instead of a cigar.

The American Medical Association is warning girls not to go wild on spring break. From the AP news story:

All but confirming what goes on in those “Girls Gone Wild” videos, 83 percent of college women and graduates surveyed by the AMA said spring break involves
heavier-than-usual drinking, and 74 percent said the break results in increased sexual activity.

It is not known what effect this announcement will have on Mantra Entertainment, the marketing company behind the popular “Girls Gone Wild” video series. Spokespersons from the Surgeon General and the tobacco industry were unavailable for comment.

No word yet if the AMA plans to expand its campaign to include other potentially harmful and debilitating video productions. Possible candidates include:

• Warning convicted felons not to be chased by police.
• Warning children to stay away from parents with camcorders.
• Warning Regis and Kelly not to go live.
• Warning David Hasselhoff.

To summarize the events of the last year or so:

• Southwestern Bell buys AT&T.
• Southwestern Bell renames itself as “AT&T”. The all-seeing eye lives once more.
• AT&T announces it will be raising Oklahoma local rates for the first time in 20 years.
• AT&T buys BellSouth, the dominant phone provider for the southeast USA.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m all for corporate success and the “trickle-down” theory. But didn’t we recently (about 20 years ago) go through a heck of lot of trouble to break up the Bell system? Yet here we are, watching Ma Bell slowly reassemble herself like a zombie from one of George Romero’s movies.

Something made me think of the word bellicose in relation to all of this. I wasn’t sure why the word came to mind, other than the “bell” resemblance, so I looked it up. “Warlike in nature; aggressive; hostile. Showing or having the impulse to be combative.” Yep, it figures.

You can call me paranoid, but the call will cost you an extra $1.90 per month.

I was telling my wife about recent developments concerning the death penalty (we’re both nominally against it). In this specific case, the state of California has indefinitely suspended executions by lethal injection because they cannot find an anesthesiologist willing to oversee the procedure.

Her response: “Ironic — they can’t find a doctor willing to execute a convicted criminal, yet they have a surplus of doctors willing to execute unborn babies.”

She really needs to be blogging.

The baby-boomer generation may be getting older, but never let it be said that they’re losing their grip on the consumer market.

Exhibit A: the Volvo convertible.

It’s my morning “what the heck happened at the Olympics yesterday” news check on Yahoo’s Olympics site. What to my wandering browser’s eyes should appear but today’s top story.

Is it about Seth Wescott’s triumphant gold medal in the brand-new “Snowboard Cross” event? Lindsey Kildow’s amazing return to the starting gate not two days after a spectacular crash and an airlift to the local hospital? Is it about those goofy-looking medals?

Nope. It’s all about men’s figure skater Johnny Weir and whether he is or isn’t. If that’s too subtle for you, try these: Does he do the deed with dudes? Is he AC/DC? Does he hide the salami? In short, is Weir Queer?

Why this is a lead story baffles me beyond all human comprehension.

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Editor’s note: Okay, this really isn’t a sonnet. It’s prose, and darned prosaic if you ask me. However, it sums up how I feel about soulmates in general, and my soulmate in particular. This little diatribe started with a contest on Boomer Chick. Nothing gets my tongue all flowery like a writing contest.

Warning: Those of you with low sugar tolerance may want to skip this one. I promise to return to my regular lowbrow humor tomorrow.

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An Australian father-daughter team have set a new high in endurance athletics.

A Sydney father and daughter have set a new world record after playing marbles for 26 hours non-stop.

Michael Gray, 45, and daughter Jenna, 17, played marbles from 9am on Saturday until 11am on Sunday, to claim the Guinness Book of Records title.

Just goes to show that you can have your marbles and lose them, too.

The groundhog supposedly saw his shadow this morning. After sitting up and taking a bleary-eyed look around, “Punxsutawney Phil” cited his shadow as verifiable proof that winter will last another six weeks. He then promptly marched off to bed.

Predict, schmedict. If this is winter, them I’m Phil’s second cousin. The temperatures have been floating in the upper 60’s to lower 70’s all week. I think old Phil is just wanting to sneak a few more weeks of shut-eye.

Either that, or he’s laying the groundwork for a career as a television weatherman.

The United States is reportedly outsourcing torture to other countries.

I thought Dell already did that.

The Center for Science in the Public Interest is suing the Kellogg Company and the Nickelodeon TV network to stop the senseless marketing of “junk food” to children.

Companies are developing automatic monitoring devices that will limit the amount of time their children spend playing video games.

Lawmakers in Colorado are seeking to amend divorce laws to eliminate the 90-day waiting period and mandatory parenting classes that inform parents about the impact of divorce on children.

In other news, parents are relieved of all responsibility in raising healthy, self-sufficient children; spend evening watching the four-hour premiere of 24 on FOX.

I have noticed a recent trend towards science-based politicking in this country. A gander of any random newspaper will reveal more than a few articles concerning the enviroment, intelligent design, severe weather trends, and the mysterious attraction between Britney Spears and Kevin Federline. Thanks to all this reading, I have come to two conclusions concerning the two poles of our political process:

1. If a liberal is dissatisfied with a scientific explanation, he will use excerpts and ignore the parts he doesn’t like.
2. If a conservative is dissatisfied with a scientific explanation, he will make up new science to replace the parts he doesn’t like.

I was going to work up a third point about moderates being incredibly smug, but I think I’ve made that rather self-evident.

I’m sure we’ve all heard the news reports of the cat that clung to the bottom of an SUV for 70 miles, or of the mouse that set a house on fire.

Turns out that he didn’t, and it didn’t.

What’s with this sudden rush to the “Weird News” section of the newspaper? I’m as much of a fan of quirky news as the next guy, but even the off-beat needs to be on-target once in a while. I thought the mark of journalistic excellence was a Pulitzer Prize, not a link from Fark.

In yet another example of our government going to ridiculous lengths to protect us from ourselves, it is now a federal crime to “annoy” someone anonymously via the Internet. From the CNet article by Declan McCullagh:

It’s no joke. Last Thursday, President Bush signed into law a prohibition on posting annoying Web messages or sending annoying e-mail messages without disclosing your true identity.

In other words, it’s OK to flame someone on a mailing list or in a blog as long as you do it under your real name. Thank Congress for small favors, I guess.

So how exactly would one prove “intent to annoy” in a court of law? More importantly, how the heck would one defend against such a charge? I know some people who can be annoying simply by standing in the same room with you. Are these socially-challenged individuals destined for a life of crime?

Understand that we’re not talking about behavior that is criminally actionable in other circumstances. Nobody is being threatened. The secrets of bomb-making have not been divulged to minors. Courtney Love hasn’t indecently exposed herself in public. We’re talking about annoyance, an emotional reaction about as common as ants at a picnic. I certainly wouldn’t mind living in a more-polite society, but not at the point of a gun.

While I am flattered that government officials are willing to go great lengths to protect my emotional well-being, their track record at arbiting this sort of thing is less than stellar. Free speech is a concept that works best apart from legislation, not with it.

The measure is buried in a “Violence Against Women” act, and it’s awfully hard to stand against something like that without putting on a wife-beater t-shirt. However, according to the Blog Herald, there’s a silver lining in this cloud:

The one positive from the law though is that it potentially also outlaws comment spamming in the United States. How many anonymous comment spams does your blog get daily that come from an Anonymous source…lots I’d guess, and there is little question that they would be deemed annoying in a court of law. Perhaps we should start a competition for the first blogger to successfully see a comment spammer thrown in jail for breaching the new laws? Certainly a nice thought!

So, could I interest you in some inexpensive herbal Viagra? I mean, if I’m going to annoy someone with this post and risk a term in federal prison, I might as well make a few bucks before I go.

Via Ravenwood.

From the January 2006 issue of Esquire:

Marian Salzman can see the future. And her skills are harnessed for something very important: selling you stuff. She’s coauthored numerous books and helped popularize the terms wigger and metrosexual (God forgive her.) …. In her latest offering, The Future of Men (Palgrave Macmillan, $25) she identifies a new breed of man, the übersexual — one who embraces aspects of traditional masculinity without acting like a caveman.

Saltzman gives four examples of this up-and-coming male archetype:

1. He will marry. And marry. And marry again. Saltzman calls it “serial monogamy” and says that there will be “no taboo about having a starter marriage that fails.”
2. He will become a Shriner. Fraternal organizations and guy’s nights out come back with a vengeance.
3. He will look more like Joan Rivers. By this, she means that he will not balk at using chemical and surgical techniques to maintain a youthful appearance. “Men will turn to moisturizers, hair thickeners, a little nip and tuck here and there, collagen, Botox.”
4. He will work for a woman. And she’ll be better educated than he is.

On comparing myself to this übersexual model on a point-by-point basis, I make the following observations:

1. Having been married only once, I can confidently exclude myself from “serial spouse syndrome.” For the last 20 years I have been your traditional one-woman man, and if my contented paunch is any sign, the lifestyle suits me. The only reason I might ever seek a divorce would be a sudden irrational desire to wreck my credit rating.
2. I’m no Shriner, but I am a volunteer Boy Scout Leader. The Boy Scouts of America can inspire obsessive devotion in its membership. If you have known a Scoutmaster and never caught the wiff of wild-eyed fanaticism, you didn’t sniff hard enough. Aside from our single-minded devotion to America’s youth, we Scouters have our own silly songs, skits, and impenetrable traditions. We also have flashy uniforms that we’ll wear at the drop of a campaign hat. In short, we’re Shriners without all the excess drinking.
3. Looking like Joan Rivers has never been on my short list of things to do before I die. I started turning gray before age 20, so I’ve learned to cope with a little snow on my roof. However, I will admit to being partially übersexual in this category — I use hair gel. This is not so much a fashion statement as it is a desire not to go through life looking like Gene Shalit.
4. This last point nails me to the wall. I have worked for women for most of my adult career. Fortunately, every one of them have been perfect ladies of impeccable taste, evidenced by the fact that I keep getting promoted. If you use this to accuse me of being “whipped,” I’ll ask my wife to beat you up.

From this rigorous self-analysis, I judge myself to be approximately 55% übersexual. I’m quite sure my wife will be able to handle the disappointment.

Note: This is a political essay. This is completely out of character for me, and I promise to say several fart jokes as penance before I go to bed tonight.

In recent weeks, there has been much wailing and gnashing of teeth over the domestic “secret spying” performed by the National Security Agency, reportedly on orders from President Bush himself. To sum up and/or trivialize the debate, Mr. Bush claims that his actions were prudent and within the law, and his detractors disagree (surprise, surprise).

Judging from the what I have seen in the reactions of average Americans (frothing at the mouth, for the most part) Michael Savage must think that he’s died and gone to conservative talk show heaven. We do love our political scandals, don’t we?

Read the rest of this entry »

The exact, unedited headline from the AP story: TEXAS STUNS USC TO WIN NATIONAL TITLE.

My exact, unedited reaction to said headline: “They use phasers in college football? Cool!”

Actor Drake Bell, the 19-year-old co-star of the hit Nickelodeon series Drake and Josh, was recently involved in a car crash in Los Angeles. He suffered a fractured neck, broken jaw, lost teeth, and other injuries. None of the injuries were life-threatening, but he is definitely down for the count and may require plastic surgery before he is able to return to work.

Reports from anonymous sources state that Mr. Bell was in full control of his vehicle and was operating it in a safe and responsible manner. He was not driving under the influence of alcohol or controlled substances. He did not drive at an excessive speed, nor did he cross the yellow line or weave in and out of traffic in a reckless manner. He was reportedly not receiving inappropriate favors from a member of the opposite sex while the vehicle was in motion. He came to a full stop at all intersections and looked left, right, and left again before proceeding. He was not talking on his cell phone, nor did he distract himself with a DVD player within direct sight of the driver’s seat. He did not attempt to evade the police on a high-speed chase through residential streets and school zones.

While I have nothing but best wishes for Mr. Bell’s speedy recovery, I really think someone ought to have a talk with his agent. This decent and wholesome behavior is completely inappropriate. If this kid wants to be a big-time Hollywood star, he had better start acting like one.