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All commentary Copyright Stonestead.com, 2007. No part may be reproduced without permission. All statements within are the express view of the author and not necessarily those of his employeer, his clergy, his spouse, his friends or even himself.

Man - I can't believe how far we've gone in the past month. In the wrong direction, that is. I know it's Friday but I was SERIOUSLY struck by the fact that D.C. was on the fast-track to Statehood status. This is even screwier than the rest of the bunk we've heard about coming at us so far -- with a single exception: it's utterly un-Constitutional. In every way that can be imagined or litigated.

I mean, we'll add 2 Senators and a Representative from D.C. if we allow another Representative from Utah?!? (Sorry, but...) WTF?!?!! How idiotic is this waste of time? The Constitution clearly lays out the rules for delegating Congressional Representatives and there is NO tis-for-tat section within its folds. Further, the District of Columbia is designated as first, a DISTRICT and second as a Federal City. I mean, if it were supposed to be something more - say, a State - wouldn't that have been addressed by now? It's not as if this is a new problem posed by the policies of the Bush Administration: Jackson or Johnson or Johnson or Harrison could have addressed this "problem" long ago. If it needed addressing.

This is the first thing that actually scares me about this Administration. But mark my words; Puerto Rico is next. Then Guam or Chicago or somewhere else. Eventually they'll attempt to accumulate all the socialist states under their belts.

Let's see what raul has to say about it before we end the embargo, but still...

J.O.T.W...

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.

With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: There, spread out on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it merely one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table. His aged and withered hand made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when his wife suddenly smacked it with a spatula. "Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral."

This is probably a repeat, but aren't they all?

Criminey, what a day. First I have to have my travel password reset - AGAIN - in order to fix an "error" I was instructed to make on my expense report. OK, easy enough. Except when I get to the office there's my final hotel bill on my chair. Opening it up reveals that the hotel did, indeed charge the $10 per day they said they were going to, so my expense report would be technically correct. But they also show 3 $10 credits on the bill, so I need to fix the thing after all.

Then I dig a little deeper and discover that although they're listed as credits, they didn't actually do the heavy lifting required to - you know - CREDIT my account?!? I want this CEO behind bars by noon!!

Ah well: my password has been reset meaning I can logon first thing and "fix" my "fixed" account. It's just not worth dragging this out and it's certainly caused me at least $30 of brain damage already. I just want to get it done, off my list and out of my email, so, as my son says, "what the heck?" Maybe I'll just recoup the loss in ball point pens over the next 20 years.

(I'M KIDDING. It would take at least 25 years to do that...)

After that bit of fun I got to watch half our network crash like Lindsay Lohan's SUV, (geez - I should retire from this site just for writing that), leaving - well - half my local users floating in the bog, so to speak. A quick trip downstairs to ask about the connections and state of the equipment is fruitless, so I'm stuck trying to find out why one person can connect to the Internet but not email, while the other has email but no Internet and I have both.

And it's a good thing, too, because they sent an email out telling us that the system was half-down. I know it's an old joke and we've all heard the punchline already but I swear that's what happened.

Eventually the systems were restored - or so I believe - and with any luck we'll be up and running tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

Later that day as the movies used to say in the '50s, I was passed a help ticket which should have been a simple matter: password reset. I change the password and the user settings and go to call the user to tell her the new password. (This is actually a kind of interesting ticket because the account is automatically re-enabled before we get the ticket, but we work them anyway.)

So - call the user! No phone number listed. This happens from time to time and we can usually just call the site contact. In this case a lovely young tour guide from Houston without a sense of direction or an up-to-date phone number available. Great. OK, I'm a resourceful guy so I hop out to the 'corporate' website to track down the office's main number. NOW I have no Internet access so I can't connect to find the number.

OK, I'm a resourceful guy so I connect to the local server in hopes of finding - or rather, lucking into - some regional information I might use. To all surprise I was able to connect and from there was able to get to the website and get the phone number for the office! HUZZAH - I know what I'm doing!

I celebrated by calling the office, only to have the call go un-answered and eventually rolled to voice mail. Which I'm sure will go un-responded-to. After that I emailed the tour guide with the information. If the fact that I didn't hear from them means that I fixed the problem, well that's better than the possibility that the office was evacuated, I guess.

Or maybe they were all out getting ball point pens. I honestly have no idea...

To wrap up my rather surreal day, our doorbell rang this evening as I was getting ready for Knucklehead baths. To tell the truth I've been expecting such an event since our neighbor's (single gal about 15 years older than myself) fence blew down about a week ago. Guessing this to be the case, I ignored the bell and got the boys ready. About a minute later, the bell rang again.

Instead of whimping out and letting The Wif go get it, I went downstairs and opened the door only to find a Papa John's delivery guy on my stoop, pizza in hand. He looked up at the light - unlit - and asked, "did you guys NOT order a pizza?," as if the thought of NOT ordering a pie was antithetical to human existence. Which I firmly believe.

He confirmed the addy - which was either: 1) Correct 2) A typo or, 3) a Hoax. He suggested the last and I replied, "that's a pretty lame hoax." Upon reflection, I'm not exactly "in the biz," (at least not that end of it), so I honestly have no idea how often that sort of thing happens. Maybe its perfectly commonplace and expected these days. Again - no idea. But mere commonality wouldn't change my assessment of it as a lame hoax. Even as a teenager we managed to buy toilet paper and shaving cream, for Pete's sake!

He went away with all due respect - if any was - and I apologized. "No worries," he said - which is a phrase that has taken 20 years to catch on - and I went back to getting Knuckleheads wet and soapy, still wondering what was on the pizzas and what would happen to them.

Man, I could really go for some cold 'Za right about now...

Well we've got a heck of a week coming up for The Stonestead: My lovely bride of 176 years is about to spend a week in a training class in a far-flung city. (I had to change the "174" I initially wrote to "176" lest someone think it was a typo.) This is somewhat daunting but I'm pretty cool under fire so I think I'm handling it fairly well.

Of course it helps that I've got the week off work. At least I think I do - haven't heard officially yet - and even if I'm pressed into service I've got others I can lean on. And the best news is that they WANT to spend time with my kids.

I guess they're used to bigger monsters and time with 3 & 4 year old boys seems like a walk in the park. Hey - whatever...

The good news is that I can cook, rely on them to find their own clothes and have already classified Cheetos® as a vegetable. Oh -- and I know where their school is, so I've got THAT going for me.

But that doesn't seem enough for some reason. There's also tumbling class and now gymnastics that I'll have to get to, a school that starts at 8 but I'll have to get "M" to day care, (on the 2 days she'll go), by 7:35 so she'll have time to eat breakfast before the bus leaves - which begs the obvious question - and get the boys to wherever-the-heck it is they have to be within a reasonable timeframe.

Seriously. Did our Grandparents have these problems? Well, certainly our Grandfathers didn't: Hon - did you say I had to get our girl to loom class by Tuesday? I'd better go out and hitch up Ol' Bessy! Not exactly top on his list, I'd imagine.

Still, I'm a modern man and a son of the age - as much as I fight it - and I know that raising kids is more than to be dismissed as "wimmin's work." I need to be involved for both sons and daughter because the boys are learning how to be men and the girl is learning how to shop for one. So they'd better have a good example handy.

THAT'S my goal here...

SPEAKING OF THAT, kind of, I have a bone to pick with someone who will never, EVER read this. Which is kind of the best way of picking bones, if you ask me.

Is there a problem with me because I want to preserve my daughters' innocence? I only ask because The Wif has seen me cringe at my little girls' gymnastic outfit. Mind you, I had no input in the decision of which one would find its way home - and certainly The Wif is not out grabbing overly-revealing things for our 7 year old - I just seem to have a different standard from many of the women around me.

Namely, I don't believe a 7 year old should be taught that it's OK to show off her body. Because that way leads to disaster.

Now, I don't come to this position casually and I should probably warn those of you who wish to maintain a positive image of your humble host that its time to flip over to Drudge now: I have formed my views after most of a lifetime of preying on women. I came by this honestly - if such a thing can be said - and as a Father I now recognize the fragile nature of Female Virtue. All too late, I'm afraid, but hopefully not for this little girl of mine.

Without getting too graphic, (hopefully), I will simply say that there's something precious about "girl skin." It's ... well ... It IS. And it's great. But when girls are far too eager to show it off, there's something wrong and something about to go wrong. No getting around that one!

So when I hesitate to allow my little girl out in something that reveals her back? Or when The Wif laughs at me because I'm trying to be a fence between my Babe and the real world for as long as I can? I stand firm.

THAT'S a Fathers' job, after all...

Ok, ok. I'll be done complaining about the grippe that's invaded our house. Instead -- I'll complain about the lawn!

Just kidding. Although you may beg for that before it's all said and done...

Someone once said that behind every double standard lies an unconfessed single standard to in that spirit I have a couple of questions: does anyone remember when "spending our childrens' future" was a BAD thing? Anyone recall that? Because I distinctly remember hearing about how George W. Bush had "mortgaged" our childrens' future, (hope it wasn't a sub-prime), was spending us into debt "as far as the eye could see" and writing checks our grandchildren would have to cover.

So -- what's changed? Is it just because we've given W the bum's rush that suddenly we're all OK with the gubermint spending money it will never have? Or is it because our first half-white President has dark skin that it no longer matters? Of course I already know the answer and it's because the LSM has the guy they want and he can do no wrong.

Yet. Just have some of his DNA show up on a blue dress and they may yet wake up. But I'd still have to see it to believe it.

So a TRILLION dollars MUST! BE! SPENT! RIGHT FLIPPIN' NOW! and it won't be enough. We're going to need MORE spending to fix a problem that will only be better when the talking heads tell us it will be. The "stimulus" is just a start; we'll need another - as well as a housing bill/bailout - and the Detroit 3 aren't exactly hemorrhaging Franklins.

So let's just spend, spend spend! But hold on a sec: isn't that what people were complaining about with the last Administration? Oh, but what the heck? He's gone and the new guy is going to spend it properly now. So it's not the spending or even the IDEA of spending or even the extent of the spending or the debt it creates.

It simply comes down to WHO is directing the spending, I guess. So quit bitching about the numbers. It's FEDERAL money, after all.

And another thing - do we remember when it was "irresponsible" for a President to take a vacation? Now I'm a grown-up and I realize full well that the President can only ever be "on vacation" if he's undergoing a medical procedure that requires a general - but since when is it OK for a President to leave DC even if Congress is in recess? You all remember that, right?: August, Congress is out -- no bills are being written, read by aides or even debated and George W. Bush was roundly criticized for daring to visit his ranch in Texas.

Any such complaint a mere 3 weeks into this Administration?

Thought not. Here's to ending the Honeymoon...

Too trite, but I've heard it before...

A Blonde At The Doctor's

A blonde told her doctor that she was really worried because every part of her body hurt. The doctor looked concerned and said, "Show me where."

The blonde touched her own arm and screamed, "Ouch!"

Then she touched her leg and screamed, "Ouch!"

She touched her nose and cried, "Ouch!"

She looked at her doctor and said, "See? It hurts everywhere!"

The doctor laughed and said, "Don't worry; it's not serious. You've just got a broken finger."

Holy cow: I didn't even remember that I hadn't updated the site last night. Sheesh; I guess things are getting extra-special strange around here. Not to be unexpected - and certainly not that things are going as completely sideways as I seem to be hinting at - it's just that we're in a state of flux around The Stonestead. But it's GOOD flux: kids are going to bed earlier which means that they're easier to rouse in the morning and therefore slightly more eager to comply with parental orders surrounding the morning routines.

Or so I'm told. I'm not around when the routine is so I have to rely on second-hand information and then adjust my schedule accordingly. Such is my lot.

At any rate, I think I'm back in the swing of things and will eventually come through on all of my brazen promises, here and elsewhere. It'll be interesting to watch and I've already followed through on a long-overdue followup on the newspaper site -- which many of you will be unable to read! Huzzah!

The site is now blocked at my office and I suspect the same for many of your offices as well. Ah... Let's block some guy from talking about his family along with all the Pr0n and online gambling sites. That'll show 'em! Because morale couldn't be higher! Who needs cute stories about young Cherubs?

(I only joke around because my boss -- who is only kind of my boss -- I suspect had very little say in the blockage. In fact, the way we're structured I seem to be beholden to the SITE instead of the organization; which is exactly the opposite of what we were supposed to expect. Let's see what the little o has in store for us, but I suspect inertia will take over and we'll eventually end up where we started out for. To end with a preposition.)

So here's the result of us all "being socialists" now: people who shouldn't have gotten mortgages in the first place are now given the chance to redefine their terms in order to keep their houses. Grand. So they'll get lower rates, a re-amortization, a lower payment and greater monthly cash-flow because they can't come through with the payment. Swell.

What about the rest of us? Why should I suffer because I'm responsible and make my payment every month? Shouldn't I reap some benefit since I'm taking care of business?

Well, of course I am - but not because I rely on the gubermint for anything. I've been made "eligible" for a benefit because I shopped around, got the best mortgage deal I could find and saved almost $200 per month on my payment, not to mention a rate of 5.25%.

Rewrite THAT, o...

I'm having a difficult time believing how early I hit the rack. I mean, I used to stay up until all hours and finally collapse into bed just a few hours before I was expected to leave it. Now, I'd rather turn in just after we put the kids in (8:30 or so), instead of fighting things any further.

Guess that means I'm getting old...

So now 10:00 seems late and I suppose I'm all the better for it, but still; I guess there's a small part of me that would love to see what this neighborhood looks like at 3 AM. This time around, anyway.

The kids are great if by "great" we could possibly mean, "in someone else's' care," but what are you gonna do?

Actually, I suffered a bit of a blow today. I was miserable: weak, faltering and just a wimp. I needed to "man-up." I put dried-up pork chops in the oven and called it Dinner. I got done with my job and called it good. And then I went back to bed and called it whipped cream.

Whatever

Dare I say what cheered me up, (aside from sharing my concerns with The Wif)? As I was holding my oldest son - who wiggled and giggled and laughed at my every joke - I felt a sense of peace come over me. Which shouldn't be because he'll have a chair named after him in The Principal's office, Destined for trouble, he is.

But holding that little guy in my arms pretty much reset everything: his laugh is the reason I leave it behind in the mornings, and the reason I come home in the evening. The fact that he'll eat almost anything only means that I'll have to work to put food in front of him.

In short - and as we say around here - He's my guy. Don't get me wrong here: I love all my kids and they all have their own special skills, abilities and ways to make Daddy feel loved, and they show it often. It's just that tonight, at this time and date, in this frame of mind, I needed a 4-year-old redhead to wriggle around on me for a time.

I reset/reboot computers all the time. I dare say they never felt anything like I did tonight...

I use that title not only because I feel it's fitting but because I know how much you guys love to have revealed the tiny little secrets that I keep hidden behind the scenes around here. Or not; after all, you have your own lives and your own secrets and far be it for me to pretend that the stupid little stuff I hide is worth seeing.

<Monty Python>RIGHT! Meeting adjourned forever!<⁄Monty Python>

At any rate, I spent last week in San Antonio, Texas, (which means Saint Anthony), in the Saint Anthony Hotel on the Saint Anthony River. Those of you who "get" the joke may now laugh yourselves silly...

The Alamo - which I was led to believe was way out of town - was mere blocks from our hotel. Oh, I say "our" not because I brought the namesake but because it was a work conference. Checked in on Monday, caught up with a number of old friends, had meals (except for breakfast) in strange and exotic locales, spent far too much money on trinkets for The Knuckleheads and My Little Girl then shipped out on Friday. (Of course, that's the easy version and I hope to expand on it this week)

So when I said I couldn't connect to the wireless, that was true: I was having a mental block on which program allowed me access - even though I was given the Top Secret Code at the front desk when I checked in - and it took me a day to figure it all out. I mean, I'd like to think of myself as a smart guy (don't we all), but there are times when I find myself banging my head against the Big Wall O' Duh and eventually remember to stop. Such was the case in San Antonio.

I figured it out - and just in time - then I set my sites on my usual Modus Operandi: I was going to redefine a term in the English Language: In Room Movie.

See, the gubermint won't pay for "in room entertainment," (insert your own joke here, MMS employees), and rightly so. We should be able to travel to a strange city, check into the paid hotel room and enjoy whatever's on the tube if we can't find something else to do in town. I mean, they have CABLE!

But today they also have wireless and most of us travel with a laptop. Here's the trump, (small t): I am a member of The Netflix. That means that I can watch certain movies online via my computer, a connection and my account information.

Guess what? I had all 3 of those in my room, so I was able to logon to my Netflix account from my computer once the connection had been established and was able to watch, Leslie Vernon, which - BTW - is a GREAT movie and anyone who's ever seen even a single installment of the Friday, Halloween or Nightmare series-es-es should check it out.

And if you have a laptop, a hotel room, a wireless connection and a Netflix account, Well, What the heck ELSE do you have to do?

Occasionally, airline flight attendants make an effort to make the "in-flight safety lecture" a bit more entertaining. Here are some real examples that have been heard or reported:

"As we prepare for takeoff, please make sure your tray tables and seat backs are fully upright in their most uncomfortable position."

"There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but there are only 6 ways out of this airplane..."

"Your seat cushions can be used for floatation, and in the event of an emergency water landing, please take them with our compliments."

"We do feature a smoking section on this flight; if you must smoke, contact a member of the flight crew and we will escort you to the wing of the airplane."

"Smoking in the lavatories is prohibited. Any person caught smoking in the lavatories will be asked to leave the plane immediately."

Pilot - "Folks, we have reached our cruising altitude now, so I am going to switch the seat belt sign off. Feel free to move about as you wish, but please stay inside the plane till we land... it's a bit cold outside, and if you walk on the wings it affects the flight pattern."

And, after landing: "Thank you for flying Delta Business Express. We hope you enjoyed giving us the business as much as we enjoyed taking you for a ride."

As we waited just off the runway for another airliner to cross in front of us, some of the passengers were beginning to retrieve luggage from the overhead bins. The head attendant announced on the intercom, "This aircraft is equipped with a video surveillance system that monitors the cabin during taxiing. Any passengers not remaining in their seats until the aircraft comes to a full and complete stop at the gate will be strip-searched as they leave the aircraft."

Once on a Southwest flight, the pilot said, "We've reached our cruising altitude now, and I'm turning off the seat belt sign. I'm switching to autopilot, too, so I can come back there and visit with all of you for the rest of the flight."

As the plane landed and was coming to a stop at Washington National, a lone voice comes over the loudspeaker: "Whoa, big fella...WHOA..!"

"Should the cabin lose pressure, oxygen masks will drop from the overhead area. Please place the bag over your own mouth and nose before assisting children or adults acting like children."

"As you exit the plane, please make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses."

"Last one off the plane must clean it."

And from the pilot during his welcome message: "We are pleased to have some of the best flight attendants in the industry...Unfortunately none of them are on this flight...!"

Heard on Southwest Airlines just after a very hard landing in Salt Lake City: The flight attendant came on the intercom and said, "That was quite a bump and I know what ya'll are thinking. I'm here to tell you it wasn't the airline's fault, it wasn't the pilot's fault, it wasn't the flight attendant's fault.....it was the asphalt!"

An airline pilot wrote that on this particular flight he had hammered his ship into the runway really hard. The airline had a policy which required the first officer to stand at the door while the passengers exited, give a smile, and a "Thanks for flying XYZ airline." He said that in light of his bad landing, he had a hard time looking the passengers in the eye, thinking that someone would have a smart comment. Finally everyone had gotten off except for this little old lady walking with a cane. She said, "Sonny, mind if I ask you a question?" "Why no Ma'am," said the pilot, "What is it?" The little old lady said, "Did we land or were we shot down?"

Overheard on an American Airlines flight into Amarillo, Texas, on a particularly windy and bumpy day. During the final approach the Captain was really having to fight it. After an extremely hard landing, the Flight Attendant came on the PA and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Amarillo. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened while the Captain taxis what's left of our airplane to the gate!"

Another flight Attendant's comment on a less than perfect landing: "We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroo bounces us to the terminal."

After a particularly rough landing during thunderstorms in Memphis, a flight attendant on a Northwest flight announced: "Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, after a landing like that, sure as hell everything has shifted."

Well this is a bit strange; I'm lying down in bed with the television on and typing away on my laptop. It's strange because I usually also have the radio on and am typing at my desk. Ah how times change, no? Of course this is about the least comfortable way to create text since the monks put down their hammer and chisel.

So what's stopping me from moving to my desk? Well, a number of reasons but the biggest is often the most common: me. My body is generally comfortable, (except for the typing part), and I suffer from one of those laws of physics. The one about a body at rest. I think it's the law of Assal Horizontalogy.

That's probably the same reason that I'm going to be under fire come Saturday: I have just been too lazy/busy to go out and procure all the necessary cards, trinkets and sparkly bits the day will require. (I know that lazy/busy are sort of contradictions but I'm generally the latter and then overwhelmed by a desire to indulge in the former.) Ah well, I have Friday off so I can suppose I still have time to make things right.

Also on Friday, we have the darling Valentine's Day party at the kids' school. Also known as the Annual Sugaring of the Curtain Climbers. Should be a grand opportunity for a great number of photos which I'm happy to say I now believe I will be able to share with you. I think I've procured a software package that I can use to crop and correct the pics so I can update the pic page. Of course, if I'm right this should be one HELL of an update. Keep y'all busy for days, it will. Look for it at a monitor near you.

(Promise.)

So how about this global warming? We've been below 40 for most of this week - which still beats 40 below - and with plenty of snow to go around. Of course we're not calling it "global warming" anymore; scientific evidence contrary to the un-scientific models have forced us to change to the more ambiguous term, "climate change." But that doesn't matter; what matters is that we DO SOMETHING!

Same with this stupid "stimulus" bill that passed; it doesn't matter that its paying to re-sod the National Mall or for a pet project in the little o's state or for bumble bee insurance or any number of other pork projects that won't do a single thing to actually stimulate the economy. What's important is that SOMETHING be done in the NAME of doing good: it doesn't matter what the final effect will be.

Oh well - you guys wanted these bozos. May you get what you wish for...

Man, oh man. You guys know I love technology - but like everyone else I love it mostly when it's an obedient servant rather than a master holding a cat-O-nine-tails made from barbed wire.

OK so that's a little dramatic; truth is, I love my wireless connection when it connects. But when it decides to break out and do it's own thing I really start to feel isolated and disconnected. Of course I'm now able to go online from my phone but that's still rather limiting since so few sites carry a mobile side. Can you imagine that - and in 2009 no less!

And once the wireless is off the farm I have two options: I can run a 200 yard cable from the router to my computer and hope that THAT portion of the router is still functioning, or I can take the night off. Guess what I did? And if you can read this it then means that my connection is up and running. One way or another.

I'm watching one the AvP movies and it continues to strike me that the Alien gets less and less scary all the time. I mean, if Predator can smash Alien's head, then why were the Space Marines having such a hard time putting them dow? (Answer: Private Hudson.)

Here's another little tidbit before I run off to other venues, thereby cheating you of a "full" update for another day: send a text message to 40404 which says 'follow stonestead' - without the quotes. That will allow you to receive up to 140 character messages I write from my phone. I know, it seems like I'm trying to corner the market in useless ways to deliver useless drivel, but what else was the Internet possibly invented for?

Remember, text 'follow stonestead' to 40404 from you cell phone. Because they don't support telegrams...

Bill Clinton, Hillary, Al and Tipper Gore are flying aboard Air Force 1 on their way to visit the Communists to share their success stories about taxing Americans.

Bill: "Why don't I throw this hundred dollar bill out the window and make someone very happy."

Hillary: "Well, why don't you throw ten hundred dollar bills out the window and make ten people happy."

Al: "Why don't you two jump out the window and make me and Tipper happy."

Tipper: "Why don't we all jump out the window and make everybody throughout the United States and world happy."

Outdated? Sure. Funny? Perhaps not so much. Relevant?

Well what do you think?

Can we all now agree that the so-called "stimulus" package is just a bill that we'd have to sign for with our ears between our ankles? I mean, will 150 million to re-sod the National Mall really get the economy going? REALLY?? No, not quite.

And since The One is such a uniter, how is it that his bill has passed purely along party lines? I thought he was elected to bring a new spirit to Washington.

The answer is obvious: his ideas were expected to carry a broad spirit and those who differed will be called "outsiders" by the pretty heads on TV. And so it begins. To be honest, I'm frankly rather surprised that there's a "mainstream" media out there that cares enough to cover the truth. That was a surprise beyond anything I expected...

Well tonight was interesting. And fun. But mostly fun: I had dinner with a friend I hadn't seen in a period that could be measured in decades. And her family. WAAYY too cool...

Thanks to today's modern doo-hickeys and thing-a-ma-jigs I was able to find this friend online. We then started communicating, exchanged emails, emailed some more and eventually decided on a night to share a meal. Tonight was that night. They came over and I grilled some animal and we broke bread together.

It was great to catch up - hear some of the circumstances that led up to her having the two kids and sharing our strange little tale about the strange little beings that run through our home. We talked about what we did and what we do, but little if anything was mentioned about what we WILL do. Funny that - when friends get together as grown adults there's little said about the future. Perhaps its because we've already "lied ourselves out" as teenagers and would rather stay quiet about what we think the future might hold.

Then again, the cynic in me says, "why should 'I plan to walk the same halls day after day until I die' be interesting to someone who's already thinking the same thing?" I mean, as a teenager it's one thing to contemplate hiking over the Alps but it's quite another to actually do it. And almost nobody actually does it. I suppose that explains the myth, the draw and the lies.

But I digress: tonight I got to see an old friend, her husband and two lovely daughters. Not just "see" but actually break bread with them. It was a pleasure. I met "The R" and he seems to be an upstanding guy in every regard. I met the girls and believe me, they've done a fine job with both of them: charming, beautiful, engaging and busy. A GREAT family.

Of course they've had their problems; what family hasn't? And of course they're worried about the future - who isn't? In fact, it seems that their oldest - whom I was led to believe was a bit of a pain but I saw no such evidence - had to leave early to go meet with her youth counselor.

We should all have such problems, frankly.

As it turns out, her oldest is about to become a Marine, (BOO-YAH!), and her "baby" hasn't yet found her calling -- except she has: she's a teacher through-and-through. When our kids fell silent today - usually a cause for concern - I could rest easy because I knew they were in good hands.

And at bedtime? Well, her kid read my kids the story. How can you beat that?

(Dood - call me when you can.)

You know how eager I am to admit when I've been wrong? Well, I am whether you believe it or not, smarty-pants. When I'm wrong or have made a mistake I like - nay, feel obligated - to correct myself. After all, if one cannot admit when one is wrong, one cannot gloat when one is right you will lose any credibility you ever had. So here goes:

I have come to believe that I may have been wrong about the left for all these years. After all, for all this time I've come to believe that the left isn't swayed by any sense of a Standard; that since they see things through the prism of "relevance" they really don't have a lighthouse to define their shores nor a star by which to steer their ship. I mean, once you allow your rudder to be defined by the shifting of the seas you've over-worked the metaphor.

Still, I always thought it funny that believing in nothing was a way to stake the moral high-ground -- or ANY high-ground, for that matter. How can one say, "I'm right because I THINK I am" and be taken seriously? But that's what seems to be happening in today's America. We once thought of the '70s as the "Me Generation," but as the television in Calvin and Hobbes once said of karl marx, "you ain't seen nothing yet."

Current events (gotta start that with "M"), have led me to believe otherwise: it's not that the left has no standards. That's simply not true. They have a standard and it's far more simplistic, straightforward and easily explained than even the most ardent of atheist could argue against The Bible. Their standard is summed up in the old expression, "fine for me, but naught for thee."

In case the language is difficult to parse, there's also a New Living Translation® available, (if you will): do as I say, but not as I do...

Let's take the case of two Bills; Bennett and Richardson. Bill Bennett writes books about philosophy, education, living an upright life and then -- UH-OH! -- is "caught" losing tons of money gambling. Well, shucks. Must be a personal flaw - a shortage in his bedrock - that made him do it AND, since he's talked and written about living an upright life, he MUST be a hypocrite! BURN HIM!!

The other Bill - Richardson - has made a living off the public teat. Or, as others have put it, a "career in public service." And along the way he was somehow able to collect tips and kickbacks incentives enough to supplement his lifestyle.

Well, in Richardson's defense, he never wrote a book speaking out against graft...

Speaking of taxes, (smoothest segue ever!), let's take a quick look at the new guy in charge of the KGB IRS, timothy geithner: a guy who was a self-employed contractor but somehow failed to pay taxes on his salary. He (and the toady's in the LSM) write it off (HA!) as an "honest mistake." The question then becomes obvious: If my returns are ever audited, can I claim the same ignorance as the head of the department and get off Scot-free? Better yet, if my "honest mistake" is even larger than his can I lay claim to his job?

And on that same note, noted SoDak pipsqueak tom daschle has been nailed on the same charge: an inability to visit the local Liberty Tax franchise. It's an understandable error - given the fact that those underpaid teenagers in the green gowns and pointy hats are pretty creepy, even if they don't have an over abundance of tats or facial metal. That's easy enough to understand, I guess.

The truth is that these events all point to a single standard which I'd previously missed: YOU do it! NOW! I'll see to it later, maybe, perhaps -- and only if I'm actually appointed to something that might bring me under greater scrutiny. Maybe.

THAT'S the greater truth of the left: "I expect YOU to pay your taxes and bow under our new rule, but I'll be danged if I do it until I'm caught at it."

It's all so obvious! YOU pay your taxes and go to jail if you don't. And YOU play fair and honest in your business dealings because we'll be danged sure to put you behind bars if we catch you doing otherwise. And, (to summarize the candidate), "we can't eat as much as we want and drive our SUV's and keep our houses at 72° and expect the rest of the world to go, "OK."'

Unless we become President and are able to keep the White House temp at 72. Which is no mean task - unless you can write it off to being "from Hawaii." No mention of years in Illinois, but that's no real surprise here given the fact that you were talking to everyone EXCEPT yourself.

(What a Putz)

What a great game - and we were certainly due it; after all, when you look back at so many of them one can only wonder why they were ever called "super" in the first place, (SEE: Broncos' appearances prior to 1998. ALSO: ANY Vikings' appearances). Yeah, I know it's the championship game but honestly - you don't get a whif of the 1904 World Series which went unplayed because one conference's champ didn't see any worth in the other conference when considering some past "super" bowls?

Yeah, me too, (he said, twisting logic and the language to unheard-of bounds)...

As has been my habit of late, I missed large swaths of the game due to child-related complications. Could be worse. At one point I had to kick a boy off my lap because he was too fidgety and just wouldn't keep his stuffed dog, hat or "mazagine" out of my face. That bothered me, but time and place and Exodus 20:12 and all - and besides, he really didn't want to be up there anyway, as his actions showed.

Of course the dinner hour fell right in the middle of the action and since Mommy decided to go to the store, ("a graveyard" as she later described it), I had to compile something edible during the game. Well, what else but 'football food?!?'

When I announced football food for dinner I got 3 bequizzeled looks: Football food? Yes, I replied, food made entirely from footballs: football steaks, footballs in gravy and spaghetti with footballs. (I like that last one) When I put a plate of sliced cheese, beef stick and crackers in front of them, they saw what they had even if they didn't know what I meant. But from now on, "football food" will have a clear definition. At least until they forget, so we'll start afresh in Septober.

Half-way through the meal and during game play, (since this is the one game you'd rather watch the commercials than the downs), I had to go upstairs to conduct some business. Half-way through the transaction I hear 3 small knocks and then nothing else. I decide that it could just as well be cat-play as anything else and since I don't hear any screams I let it go.

About a minute later - business transacted - I hear another 3 small knocks and am now close enough to recognize them as being against my bedroom door. I open it to see the lovely visage of my daughter, and she has news. And the times her news is good I can usually count on the hairs on Homer Simpson's head:

"Umm, Bink has been screaming and throwing cheese - AT US - and he won't sit still and he's not eating and he spilled his water..."

Ugh. Well, three is the new two and I guess Daddy's gotten all the break he's going to, right? Downstairs we go.

I completely believe my daughter and I know that she's not yet to the point of manufacturing evidence against her brother(s), so I head down the stairs with only a 20% degree of skepticism. As my foot nears the first step I hear a scream I recognize. Proof enough for me. Once in the kitchen I notice pieces of cheese littered about the floor, (one of our dogs is old, deaf and hard-of-smelling and the other is old and too lazy to bother unless scraps are accompanied by a sound effect and a large, neon arrow) and as soon as I put eyes on my youngest son he covers his butt with his hand, turns away and says, "NOOooooo..."

Did someone say "Guilty?" He got to sit with his back against the wall, got no snack that night and will not be allowed to play pinball for a week (a sharp stab, that one). He's promised not to throw food again, has said he will listen to Mommy and Daddy and has promised to cut his carbon footprint in half.

We'll see if he carries through...