Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Memorial Day Evening

It's one of those nights, you know, after a long day of visiting friends for the Memorial Day cookout and the pre-visit preparation of stuff to bring. One of the spouses is really tired and wants to turn in early; so, she does. The other spouse is left to fend for himself and makes a mocha with Kauai peaberry coffee beans, then goes out in the yard with the three hounds to decide whether to haul the trash out to the curb or see if the boy does it when he comes home later. He decides on the latter course of action, mainly because he already cleaned up the beagle puke earlier and because he's afraid the neighbors may see that he is wearing only a t-shirt and his Izod bowling-motif boxer shorts.

He comes in with the dogs and gives them rawhide chews, the discounted kind that are not bleached white, but are a mottled, brownish-gray color. It's not that the dogs have a preference when it comes to gnawing on pigskin or horsehide, whatever they are made from, it's that the nicely cut white ones are way more expensive.

There's nothing good on the boob tube; so, as the beagle and the two boxers contentedly chew on their animal skins, as if fresh from a kill, and his lovely spouse is deeply breathing, he finishes off the article on John McCain in New Yorker, realizing that he won't be voting for McCain for President in 2008, especially if John-boy keeps the ghastly-looking combover, because if a man is compelled to cover his naked pate with what sparsely covers the rest of his head, the man, the real man, can never bare his soul and reveal his true nature to the world.

After checking out the New Yorker cartoons and Ian Frazier's attempt at humor in his "Chinese Arithmetic" essay (The medical procedure to cure the condition is a slit along each side of the turgid member to drain the blood engorging the spongy tissue within it, which is probably no laughing matter.), he decides to surf the Net and ends up at the PETA website. Checking the job openings, he discovers an opening right up his alley. Perusing the "Primary Responsibilities and Duties," he is hit by a magical, mystical word leaping, as if by karma, from the page: Litigate.

And he immediately realizes the mind-numbing implications. No longer would he receive telephone calls at 2:45 in the morning, like one from an allegedly inebriated individual wondering what was the best thing to do, blow into the machine or the police officer. No longer would he have to hear someone who allegedly stole half of the DVD's of several local libraries scream that he was fired as a huge deputy sheriff held the convicted felon against the wall by the neck because the short, rotund dude would not go peacefully to the big house, apparently realizing at that moment he had failed to pack enough petroleum jelly for the two-year stint. No longer would he have to chase down deadbeat clients who owed money or, worse yet, who bounced checks to pay his fee, which, in turn, caused him to bounce checks, one for the electric bill, which was found to be the cause of the blackout for the entire eastern half of the U.S. a couple years ago, as the electric company's check to Niagara Falls bounced.

Why would he no longer be required to endure these problems? Yeah, you guessed it. He'd be representing chickens!! Animals! They don't use phones! They don't talk (except those weird kinds of birds)!

In one moment, perhaps a pivotal moment in his half century on the planet, this revelation has made him swear off ... meat and meat byproducts ... so that he can truly say that he is committed to the objectives of the organization. His curriculum vitae will reflect his advocacy on behalf of the canine community against the chains and shackles with which the local Abercrombie & Fitch yuppie community sought to limit the freedoms of dogs. He figures he can throw in all the civil rights litigation, too, but only in a brief footnote in smallish-point type.

Yes, he will do it ...

The May Dead

[Additions and corrections were made on June 3.]

In Iraq, where 1,665 U.S. soldiers have been killed, the fighting continues. Major hostilities ended two years ago with a "Mission Accomplished" from the big man. In this past month, nearly half the number of soldiers who were killed during the "major hostilities" have perished. Why did these soldiers die in Iraq?

Sgt. 1st Class Steven M. Langmack, 33, Seattle, Washington
Cpl. Jeffrey B. Starr, 22, of Snohomish, Washington
Maj. William Downs, 40, Winchester, Virginia
Capt. Jeremy Fresques, 26, Clarkdale, Arizona
Capt. Derek Argel, 28, Lompoc, California
Staff Sgt. Casey Crate, 26, Spanaway, Washington
Staff Sgt. Victor M. Cortes III, 29, Erie, Pensylvania
Lt. Col. Albert E. Smart, 41, San Antonio, Texas
Spc. Phillip N. Sayles, 26, Jacksonville, Arkansas
Sgt. Mark A. Maida, 22, Madison, Wisconsin
First Sgt. Michael S. Barnhill, 39, Folsom, California
Major Ricardo A. Crocker, 39, Mission Viejo, California
CW2 Joshua Michael Scott, 28, Sun Prarie, Wisconsin
CW4 Matthew Scott Lourey, 40, East Bethel, Minnesota
Sgt. Alfred B. Siler, 33, Duff, Tennessee
Sgt. David N. Wimberg, 24, Louisville, Kentucky
Sgt. First Class Randy D. Collins, 36, Long Beach, California
Sgt. Charles A. Drier, 28, Tuscola, Michigan
Spec. Dustin C. Fisher, 22, Fort Smith, Arkansas
Pfc. Jeffrey R. Wallace, 20, Hoopeston, Illinois
Spc. Bryan D. Barron, 26, Biloxi, Mississippi
Sgt. 1st Class Peter J. Hahn, 31, Metairie, Louisiana
Spc. Audrey D. Lunsford, 29, Sardis, Mississippi
Staff Sgt. Saburant Parker, 43, Foxworth, Mississippi
Spc. Daniel R. Varnado, 23, Saucier, Mississippi
Spc. Joshua T. Brazee, 25, Sand Creek, Michigan
Sgt. Christopher S. Perez, 30, Hutchinson, Kansas
Staff Sgt. Russell J. Verdugo, 34, Phoenix, Arizona
Spc. Tyler L. Creamean, 21, Jacksonville, Arkansas
Sgt. Carl J. Morgain, 40, Butler, Pennsylvania
Sgt. Benjamin C. Morton, 24, Wright, Kansas
Sgt. John B. Ogburn III, 45, Fruitland, Oregon
Sgt. Kenneth J. Schall, 22, Peoria, Arizona
1st Lt. Aaron N. Seesan, 25, Massillon, Ohio
Sgt. Charles T. Wilkerson, 30, Kansas City, Missouri
Sgt. Kurt D. Schamberg, 26, Euclid, Ohio
Sgt. Brad A. Wentz, 21, Gladwin, Michigan
Pfc. Wyatt D. Eisenhauer, 26, Pinckneyville, Illinois
Sgt. Robin V. Fell, 22, Shreveport, Louisiana
Spc. Bernard L. Sembly, 25, Bossier City, Louisiana
Sgt. Antwan L. Walker, 22, Tampa, Florida
Pfc. Wesley R. Riggs, 19, Baytown, Texas
Sgt. Jacob M. Simpson, 24, Ashland, Oregon
Sgt. Charles C. Gillican III, 35, Brunswick, Georgia
Pfc. Travis W. Anderson, 28, Hooper, Colorado
Sgt. Andrew R. Jodon, 27, Karthaus, Pennsylvania
Unidentified pending notification of next of kin
Sgt. John M. Smith, 22, Wilmington, North Carolina
Pfc. Kenneth E. Zeigler II, 22, Dillsburg, Pennsylvania
Staff Sgt. Samuel T. Castle, 26, Naples, Texas
Lance Cpl. Wesley G. Davids, 20, Dublin, Ohio
Pfc. Christopher R. Dixon, 18, Obetz, Ohio
Lance Cpl. Nicholas B. Erdy, 21, Williamsburg, Ohio
Lance Cpl. Jonathan W. Grant, 23, Santa Fe, New Mexico
Lance Cpl. Jourdan L. Grez, 24, Harrisonburg, Virginia
Staff Sgt. Kendall H. Ivy II, 28, Crawford, Ohio
Lance Cpl. John T. Schmidt III, 21, Brookfield, Connecticut
1st Sgt. Michael J. Bordelon 37, Morgan City, Louisiana
Pfc. Stephen P. Baldwyn, 19, Saltillo, Mississippi
Staff Sgt. Anthony L. Goodwin, 33, Mount Holly, New Jersey
Lance Cpl. Marcus Mahdee, 20, Fort Walton Beach, Florida
Lance Cpl. Taylor B. Prazynski, 20, Fairfield, Ohio
Cpl. Dustin A. Derga, 24, Columbus, Ohio
Sgt. Gary A. Eckert Jr., 24, Toledo, Ohio
Spc. Steven R. Givens, 26, Mobile, Alabama
Staff Sgt. Thor H. Ingraham, 24, Murrysville, Pennsylvania
Unidentified pending notification of next of kin
Pfc. Nicolas E. Messmer, 20, Franklin, Ohio
Lance Cpl. Lawrence R. Philippon, 22, Hartford, Connecticut
Sgt. Aaron N. Cepeda Sr., 22, San Antonio, Texas
Lance Cpl. Lance T. Graham, 26, San Antonio, Texas
Sgt. Michael A. Marzano, 28, Greenville, Pennsylvania
Lance Cpl. Michael V. Postal, 21, Glen Oaks, New York
Petty Officer 3rd Class Jeffery L. Wiener, 32, Louisville, Kentucky
Staff Sgt. William J. Brooks, 30, Birmingham, Alabama
Sgt. Stephen P. Saxton, 24, Temecula, California
Capt. Kelly C. Hinz, 30, Woodbury, Minnesota
Staff Sgt. Tommy S. Little, 47, Aliceville, Alabama
Sgt. John E. McGee, 36, Columbus, Georgia
Maj. John C. Spahr, 42, Cherry Hill, New Jersey
Spc. Derrick J. Lutters, 24, Burlington, Colorado

In Afghanistan, where the poppies grow and Operation Enduring Freedom continues ad infinitum, these soldiers were killed:

Cpl. Richard P. Schoerer, 22, Hayes, Louisiana
Lance Cpl. Nicholas C. Kirven, 21, Richmond, Virginia
Pfc. Steven C. Tucker, 19, Grapevine, Texas
Pfc. Kyle M. Hernauer, 21, Manassas, Virginia

In the off-chance that President Bush reads and knows how to use a computer and comes across this blog, maybe he'll figure out that there are real people attached to the names.

Pizza News

Lionel Tate is 18. You will recall that he was wrestling with a 6-year-old and killed her back when he was 12, was then tried and convicted as an adult -- his conviction was reversed three years later and he was let out after time served when he plead guilty to a lesser charge. Lionel apparently held up a pizza delivery guy with one of his mom's State Highway Patrol revolvers. He's looking at 30 years in prison.

Douglas Hovey called 9-1-1 to report that he had been robbed while at work in a pizza shop in Ludington, Michigan. He gave a detailed description of the getaway car; and because of the quick response of Ludington police, all escape routes were blocked. Four hours later, after the car never appeared and eyewitnesses on the scene said they never saw the getaway car or robbers, the police arrested Hovey, a 3-time loser, for ripping off the pizza shop.

And then there is Dorothy Densmore, age 86, who called 9-1-1, also, ... 20 times ... because the pizza shop refused to deliver to the crazy old coot. She spent two nights in the local jail.

Where's the Beef?

For those of you who eat beef, the U.S. Supreme Court issued an important decision concerning a beef that arose between cattlemen and the government in the case of Johanns, Sec'y of Agriculture vs. Livestock Marketing Association. Here is the official summary:

The Beef Promotion and Research Act of 1985 (Beef Act) establishes a federal policy of promoting and marketing beef and beef products. The Secretary of Agriculture has implemented the Act through a Beef Promotion and Research Order (Order), which creates a Cattlemen's Beef Promotion and Research Board (Beef Board) and an Operating Committee, and imposes an assessment, or "checkoff," on all sales and importation of cattle. The assessment funds, among other things, beef promotional campaigns approved by the Operating Committee and the Secretary. Respondents, associations whose members pay the checkoff and individuals whose cattle are subject to the checkoff, challenged the program on First Amendment grounds, relying on United States v. United Foods, Inc., 533 U. S. 405, in which this Court invalidated a mandatory checkoff that funded mushroom advertising. The District Court found that the Beef Act and Order unconstitutionally compel respondents to subsidize speech to which they object. Affirming, the Eighth Circuit held that compelled funding of speech may violate the First Amendment even when it is the government's speech.

Held: Because the beef checkoff funds the Government's own speech, it is not susceptible to a First Amendment compelled-subsidy challenge.

I can't wait to read the whole opinion!! I'm so excited!!

WHISKS & SPATULAS

i admit it. i MIGHT have a problem. it's kitchen gadgets. utensils, mostly. whisks and spatulas, specifically. if you look closely at the picture at our kitchen at the top here, you'll see what i mean. it's not unusual for people to walk in here and say something like "holy shit!" i know exactly what they're talking about. and it's not good.

i purchased my first wire whisk in 1977. the fact that i know this in itself can't be good. since then, i've purchased 15 more, bringing the total number of whisks in my kitchen to 16. i've got whisks that are teflon-coated, flat metal, flat silicon-coated, round plastic, piano, french, balloon (do NOT tell me you don't know what a balloon whisk is. my kids tried that with me once. it wasn't good), various shapes, sizes, and wire gauges. one of my favorites is a small coil whisk that i had mark look for while he was in london (nigella lawson said on one of her shows that you could only find these in england. she lied). i found it in a ben franklin store in mt. vernon, ohio. i NEED it for whisking eggs.

there are reasons for each whisk. each is perfect for differing textures of batter or sauces. the only whisks i don't like or use are the two plastic whisks. one is a thick-gauged french whisk, the other is kind of like a flat-end ball whisk. i hate it. i hate how it moves, feels, and "cuts" through the batter or sauce. useless. anybody want it?

my favorites right now are the silicon coated flat whisk and the silicon-coated french whisk and my fine-gauge ball whisk. i could probably make do with those three if i were stranded on a desert island. only because i probably wouldn't have eggs to whisk.

spatulas. when we say "spatula" here in cleveland, we're talking about pancake turners. if we want a rubber spatula, we say "rubber spatula." if we say "spatula," we're talking about a pancake turner thingy.

my first spatula is my favorite. it was my mom's. for some reason, i wound up with it after my mom moved out after the divorce, and new step mom had no need for it. i love it for sentimental and utilitarian reasons equally. it's stainless steel, thin, flexible, slotted, with a wooden handle. not the original wooden handle. that crumbled and fell off a couple years ago. bill got tired of me whining that i couldn't use it sans handle about two years ago, grabbed it and took it down the basement where he cut off the end of a broom and shoved it on the beloved spatula. it looks ridiculous now, is unwieldy for cooking - but it makes me laugh. and think about it.

i've got many different "spatulas." huge, BROBDINGNAGIAN spatulas. spatulas that can lift entire cakes. plastic, hard silicone, teflon coated, open, and slotted. again - i need each one. don't argue with me. it could be worse.

next... infomercial "appliances"

Inhumanity

Sometimes, you really can't figure out what people are thinking.

Carted off for a psychiatric evaluation Thursday was Veronica Helen Smith, of Lorain, Ohio, who apparently kept about 100 cats in her house. My parents had cats in the house; and while I don't appreciate cats as pets, I can tolerate them. Keeping 100 cats in the house deserves a trip for a psychological evaluation.

Marlene Kess kept only 48 cats in her house, but had about 200 dead ones in garbage bags in the backyard of her East Orange, NJ, home. Don't tell me: The taxidermist was busy and got behind.

I suppose that Veronica and Marlene started their obsessive collection of cats with good intentions, but Derik Wilhelm, who is a Castalia,Ohio, police officer, has a different problem. He threw kittens out of his car while speeding down a highway.

In Cooperstown, Tennessee, William Milliken, Donald Ray Hackett and Kimberly Beard were arrested for tossing 22 dogs out of a moving car, 20 of them puppies.

Much has been done in the name of religion. Louis Lamonica, 45, of Holden, Louisiana, Christian minister, along with a couple other of his flock, including Deputy Sheriff Christopher Labat, unfortunately did not restrict their sexual activities to having carnal knowledge of dogs and cats, but took advantage of children in the congregation. I could think of some creative sentences for these holy men. Any suggestions?

While we are on the subject of chicken shit, who would expect Waterbury, Connecticut, to be the scene of a cockfight witnessed by a crowd of more than 100 people? Thirty-five people were arrested and at least 75 chickens were seized, along with $70,000.

Welcome to the camp, I bet you all know why we're here. Three kids, 12, 13, and 14 years old, from Andover, Massachusetts, thought they were at camp, not to play pinball, but to beat chickens with lacrosse sticks and fishing rods and kill them with a blowtorch. They also blew up frogs with firecrackers. It's nice to know that one mother grounded her son for the transgressions. How about some psychological help, Mom?

There were more, such as the 15-year-old East Liverpool, Ohio, lad who killed a hamster in front of classmates at school by twisting it. Then he threatened to kill the very kids he sought to entertain. The prosecutor, apparently unlike the sick-o's parents, recognized the need for therapy.

What is going on in the world?

MISC.

we spent a good part of the weekend near columbus with our dear friends, dt and lee. it wasn't bad enough for my sensitive vocal chords to spend nearly the entire last half of the workday thursday on the phone trying to solve a customer's problem, continuing on to the entire first entire half of friday on phone with same customer. i had very little voice left by the time we left friday evening. being the trooper that i am, it didn't stop me one bit from non-stop talking and laughing for the next 18 hours. too much fun. too, too much fun.

*****

lee and i had a conversation about how we really LIKE being the age we are. we talked about how we look in the mirror and go, "what the heck?" we look at our wrinkles on our faces and decide that we've earned every single one of them. we've both been through some hard times and are proud of how we've dealt with them and what we've accomplished. and we also know that we wouldn't go back. for anything. life is good. really good.

*****

yesterday afternoon, bill and i spent a couple hours in a starbucks before dinner so bill could get some work done on his tablet pc on line. i put my feet up and read. it was delicious. i started to get tired, so i asked bill if it would be weird if i put my head back and took a little nap (not normal public behaviour for me). i very, very rarely can sleep sitting up, so i wasn't sure if i could really sleep. but bill's "go ahead" response was the last thing i remember for almost 2 HOURS! i woke up, entirely refreshed and awake, picked up my book right where i left off. IT WAS GREAT. i have no idea if i'll ever be able to do that again.

*****

lee and dt wanted us to take their downstairs master bedroom, but my pride wouldn't let me. i told them that i sleep upstairs every night in our own home, dismissing the fact that there's no bathroom upstairs at their house, the steps are unusually steep, and there are no handrails. in the middle of the night, bill woke himself up to help me down the steps to use the bathroom and then back up to bed again. there are so many ways to show someone that you love him or her. i feel loved. in the very early morning, i woke up to have to use the bathroom again. too early to ask bill for help, cuz i knew he'd not be able to sleep again. i scooted down on my butt. i wish i would have thought of it the night before. easy. dt greeted me at the bottom, not mentioning my mode of travel. another way to show your love. and then he got me a cup of seattle's best creme brulee coffee. yet another way.

*****

we had dinner with matt and mel before heading home to cleveland to a very, very bad bella and her frazzled, yet merciful and kind master for the night, jackson. dinner and time with matt and mel was delightful. delightful.

*****

once again this morning, for probably the 150th time in 30 years, we had to hunt down the ONE plunger in the house. which bathroom is it in? or is it in the laundry tub? where is it? QUICK!!!

how much would it cost to get three more plungers? two, three, four million, zillion, BAJILLION DOLLARS???!!! noooooo. maybe 10 dollars. american. pffft. why the hell don't we have more plungers???

Retirement Party

My good friend, DT, is retiring from the teaching profession, having successfully eluded prosecution, and firing, at the very minimum, for keeping dodgeball in the fifth grade phys. ed. curriculum. Dodgeball has been outlawed by the state school board. Rather than submit to the authoritarian state, he circumvented the rule by changing the name of the game. The surprise retirement party for DT was last night. He was totally blown away. The guy who planned the roast did a great job.

Afterwards, Stacey and I stayed the night at DT's and Lee's 100-acre farmstead.

DT and I did find out that a guy who played on our college baseball team died recently. He suffered from Pick's Disease. The dementia-causing brain disease attacked him at about age 30, early by most estimates. He behaved inappropriately as a teacher in the classroom. It is my understanding that the disease first became manifest in his case by extreme outbursts of temper and aggression and hypersexual behavior, from which sprang a preoccupation with sexual expressions and jokes and compulsive masturbation, which are not good traits for an elementary school teacher. He was run out of town for his strange behavior, but was eventually diagnosed and was able to retire from teaching due to his disability. His father stood by him before he was diagnosed. His father knew something was wrong with an intelligent and talented son and finally found out why and that the disease was not curable. His father has stood by him or the past 15 years, dealing with and witnessing continuing changes in personality and impairment of reasoning and memory. When I saw him about 10 years ago, he didn't remember me or much of anything else, for that matter.

It could be another good reason for federal funding of expanded stem cell research.

Word of the Day

I was at a hearing this morning in a local court; and the way this works is that there are five cases set for nine o'clock, which wouldn't be a bad thing because jockeying for position would not be that difficult, but there are five cases set every five minutes for about two hours. Then the judge comes out into the courtroom and starts conducting business. Admittedly, many of the "hearings" involve preliminary matters, in which the judge is not involved; so, sometimes, I can get out in a couple minutes. Today, I had to wait for the judge. The judge sentenced a few people while I waited to be called to get an arrest warrant recalled and bail that had been posted reinstated.

Listening to other lawyers is not my bag. I was doing some work on my tablet pc, which was totally cool in that environment because other lawyers wondered what I was doing. So, I showed them. They were like all impressed with my technologically-advanced state of legal advocacy.

But there was an attorney standing in front of the judge with his client trying to explain why his client should not go to prison. "I venomently object to the probation officer's characterization of the defendant as a career criminal, your Honor."

Venomently?

I recognized the defendant. The guy is a snake, come to think of it.

SOON TO BE BLOGGING ABOUT...

The Good Old Days

The horrific stabbing deaths of the two girls in Illinois by a maniac right out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre reminded me of the good old days when I was 11 or so, a time upon which we look back with a certain fondness with warm, fuzzy memories of a safer, more secure time.

My very being was baseball and not much else mattered. Danny, one of my best friends, and I were locked in a monumental battle for the playground home run crown that summer, just like Mantle and Maris battled a few years before, except I pretended I was the Say Hey Kid, baseball cap on my buzzed head adjusted just how he did it so it would fly off as I charged toward right after a fly ball, making sure to catch it at waist level with the famous basket catch, feet flicking against dandelion stalks that could never be cut by any lawn mower known to man.

Danny's older sister was 17, a grown up. She was hardly ever at my home away from home. But one evening, Danny's mom said that I needed get on home. Police cars jammed the streets to the south and west of their corner house. Danny's tattooed brother was there. The only other time I saw him was when he wanted to teach me to shoot a BB gun. His demonstration shot ricocheted off something and plinked a hubcap that hung on the wall over my shoulder. He now stood on the step at the back door, smoking a cigarette, his tall, lanky frame towering over a silver-haired man in a white short-sleeved shirt, gold badge on his left breast pocket, holding a black-barreled shotgun. Two more policemen stood by one of the police cars angled into the curb, blocking the street.

Danny’s sister stood on the doorstep of her girlfriend’s house, knocking on the door. There could be no answer. Her friend had been brutally murdered in the upstairs bedroom. Years later, an acquaintance, who was an intern at a local newspaper while in college, had been allowed in the house, in the bedroom. She decided that after seeing this horrific example of the brutality of man, blood sprayed over every wall and the ceiling, blood pooled on the bed and the floor with other remains of the 16-year-old, Catholic schoolgirl, she wasn’t interested in this kind of journalism.

Three doors down, another friend, who has remained so to this day, was given the job in his house of making sure all of the doors were locked each day and night.

The killer was never arrested for the murder.

I drop by Always the Abecedarian semi-regularly, and I invite you to do the same. We all lose faith in humanity from time to time. I guess if you don’t think on it too much, they were the "good old days." They were what you imagine them to be.

Open Letter to 99 U.S. Senators

You know that during President Bush’s first term, the Senate confirmed 204 out of 214 of his judicial nominees, a rate far in excess of all of his predecessors. President Bush has appointed 24% of all active federal judges and 20% of all Circuit Court judges; so, to claim that the power invested in the Executive to appoint members of the judiciary is somehow being denied by the use of the filibuster by the minority of the Senate is disingenuous, at best, and, at worst, a lie to the American public.

The Advice and Consent power, which the Framers of the Constitution vested in the Senate, the upper house of Congress, is working well, despite what the detractors of the Article II, Section 2, powers claim. The Hon. Orrin Hatch, former Senate Judiciary Committee chairman, so honestly pointed out that “conducting a fair confirmation process most assuredly does not mean granting the president carte blanche in filling the federal judiciary.”

Amendment of the cloture rule as it relates only to judicial nominations, as proposed by Senator Bill Frist and his core cadre of supporters eviscerates the opposition. There were reasons that the Framers of the Constitution required that Senators be older than their Congressional brethren in the House of Representatives. There were reasons that the Framers of the Constitution allowed that Senators serve six-year terms unlike their Congressional brethren in the House of Representatives. The Framers obviously felt that Senators would be the steady, guiding, mature, and reasoned force in the government, serving through Presidential four-year terms, lending stability and continuity to the government with experienced policy-makers.

Senator Frist has no sense of history and no foresight. He is less interested in the goals of the democratic process, as envisioned and practiced by the esteemed members of United States Senate for 200 years, and more interested in his own limited agenda, which will have generation-lasting effects on the reasoned democratic process of the Senate and the country as a whole.

The filibuster has served the Senate and the American people well over the past two centuries as an element of the checks and balances system by promoting bipartisan compromise and moderation, which is the hallmark of this democratic government. Certain interests of a partisan majority of lawmakers are not always identical to the interests of the majority of the citizens of the country and may be antithetical to the democratic process.

I urge you to vote for history and tradition and vehemently oppose Bill Frist's change in the cloture rule as it relates to judicial nominations.

[Now, they are going to read the post below and think that the guy who wrote this is a real whack-o ...]

The Origin Of Man

I finally got around to looking at this story at CNN.com today. I noticed the little headline under the Science section. So, I looked at the picture and read the caption. Here is the picture, with the caption reproduced beneath it:

An artist's sketch of a new, formerly unknown species -- the Kha-nyou as local Laotians call it, was discovered by a team [of] scientists in a hunter's market in central Laos.

I am going to the West Side Market tomorrow morning. When I leave this drawing at Kaufman's Poultry, I'll start a big controversy. I expect to see the drawing with this caption at CNN.com:

An artist's sketch of a new, formerly unknown species -- the Chicken-Man as local Clevelanders call it -- was discovered by a team of scientists in a market in central Cleveland.

I invited a friend who works at NASA Glenn Research Center, who might qualify as scientist if he still has a job, to go to the West Side Market to make the "discovery." Shades of the Piltdown Man.

Who writes those captions for CNN.com?

300 Years

Our best friends must have known that I would do a lot of reading while preparing for "The Procedure" (I could be like KathyHowe and give you a link back to my blog post, but it's Friday; and you don't want to know the details before a big weekend.); so, they got us a subscription to The New Yorker, to which I've been a subscriber for what seems like forever with a lapse here and there.

Well, talk about forever. They must think I'm a vampire. The subscription ends on January 30, 2306.

Psych Ward

I have two cases in the largest municipal court around. Same incident. I went to see the prosecutor for the judge to whom the cases were assigned. A large police officer stopped me before I could get to the door. He asked me what I wanted. I told him. He checked his watch. 3 p.m.

"Impossible," he said.
"I'm a lawyer. I want to talk to the prosecutor and try to work out these cases. If that happens, your fellow officers won't need to come to court." I think he liked that bullshit.
"I'll check if he's here. They're usually gone by three," he said, leaving his 2-inch TV to go into the office door.
He came out of the door. "He's coming to get you."

Earlier, as I was leaving another court house, I spotted a twenty-something guy with crooked teeth and a small growth of wiry, blond hair on his chin. "PSYCH WARD" was printed on his orange shirt, a series of numbers beneath it.

"You supposed to be in court today?" I asked, walking by.
"Yeah," he said, face brightening. He thought I was his lawyer.
"You don't wear a dumb-fuck shirt like that," I said. Then added, "And shave whatever you call that thing on your chin."

The couple sitting a few chairs down guffawed.

Look! Up in the Sky!

The two guys flying into restricted airspace today that brought the evacuation of the White House, the Capitol, and the Supreme Court will not be prosecuted. But the FAA will decide what to do with the flight instructor's license; so, don't think they get off without penalty. About a month ago, George the Lesser ducked into the underground bunker because a plane entered the restricted airspace around Washington without clearance and with much less fanfare. You got to wonder how stupid can these pilots be?

When Bush was in town a couple weeks back to give one of his scripted good ol' boy chats about his plan to eliminate Old Age, Disability, and Survivors' Insurance to an invitation-only audience of cheering automatons, I got a phone call from a pilot friend who suggested that I call one of my clients on his cell phone because he appeared to be in some wee bit of trouble, since he was surrounded by a number of U.S. Secret Service agents and Transportation Security Administration enforcement officers drilling him with questions about flying in restricted Presidential airspace.

He took a student up for a lesson. Forgot all about Bush. He wasn't charged. We await the call from the FAA, however.

We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us

I am not one of the brightest bulbs on the block. Those people in Washington, D.C., running our country have a lot more going for them than I do. Let me run this by you, however. A lot of those smart people in Washington figured out that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction. Why? Because he acted like he did. He had mobile labs, underground research facilities, scientists in captivity ... that's what Saddam and his friends said. And that's why the U.S. attacked Iraq. I think. I might be wrong. But that's what they say.

So, why the heck would the wise individuals in charge of catching drug smugglers admit that the U.S. is "nearly blind to air and marine smuggling activities along the entire Gulf Coast (from the east coast of Texas to the southern tip of Florida) and from the eastern coast of Florida to Puerto Rico?"

Like I say, I'm not real bright, but isn't that something you don't want drug smugglers to know about?

And I may be part of a lunatic fringe, but is this a good time to broach the subject of legalization (and taxation) of some controlled substances?

Just wonderin.' I'm headed downstairs. I got a hankerin' for a cookie.

The Poop on Hamsters

Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report issued by the Centers for Disease Control cites an outbreak of 28 cases of drug-resistant Salmonella poisoning after children handled pet rodents, such as mice, gerbils, and hamsters. So, Salmonella can be spread by other weird pets, in addition to reptiles.

The average age of the patients was 16, although seven patients were younger than seven. Seventy-seven percent of the group reported abdominal cramping, 67% had fever, 53% had vomiting, 20% had bloody diarrhea. Forty percent required hospitalizations. No one died. Rodent exposures occurred from both pet rodents and rodents purchased to feed pet snakes.

It was noted by researchers that young children should not be permitted to handle rodent poop and that they shouldn't be kissing pet chicks and ducklings on their little beaks or kittens and hedgehogs on the lips. Hedgehogs? And, unlike kittens, dogs are not cited as a possible source of infection.

Even though common sense tells us that we shouldn't let our kids play with Salmonella-free dog poop, we apparently need the CDC to tell as that we shouldn't let our kids throw hamster poop at each other.

CELEBRATE!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! i'm on my way to columbus in a few minutes with bill and jax to meet matt for brunch and some shopping. i love mother's day. i LOVE being a mom.

i had a dream about five years ago that i have kept close to my heart ever since then. it wasn't really a big dream. it was just a few moments long. but it was huge to me.

it came for me during a difficult time. i was still struggling mightily with my new picture of myself as a gimp. my family was reeling from that and their own issues. jax was a mess -- in the middle of his using days. bill was a mess -- dealing with me, jax, his father, work issues. matt was a mess.

in my dream, bill, matt, jax, and i are walking through a store. all three of them towered over me. all four of us were HAPPY and laughing. bill was happy and at peace. i was -- unbelievably to me -- happy. i was completely accepting of my new self. i can't even think of the words here. the "boys" were older than they were in reality at the time. it was strange and inexplicable to me at the time of the dream that they seemed to be in their early twenties , each of them, yet seemingly much closer in age than they actually are. they were each mature, confident, and happy. i couldn't reconcile or understand the age difference, yet i've thought of this dream -- called it back to me for support -- many, many times. it was a dream of possibilities for me.

i'm living my dream today.

MARCUS: wish you were here, bud! thanks for the gorgeous tulips and vase!

p.s. happy wedding day, dana and jeff!

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers out there. I know that raising sons can be a trying and difficult task; and I, for one, appreciate the sacrifice. I wouldn’t know about raising daughters, which seems like something other-worldly.

Yesterday afternoon, in the court room, I saw a guy, who is some mother’s son, although I doubt that she would own up to that title, wearing his pants so that the crotch was down by the knees and the waist was down below his ass. This fat, pasty, bespectacled, white boy reminded me of Scott on American Idol, except this caricature was blond. Here is the conversation, which took place at about 3:15, in the courtroom as I sat there at one of the trial tables, waiting for the judge to take the bench for a 2:00 hearing. The deputy sat, facing me, about 10 feet away, chatting with a cop. I was talking on my cell phone to the J-dogg, who couldn’t believe what was happening.

Me (to the fat, pasty, bespectacled, white boy): Hey, sit down!
Deputy: What’s goin’ on?
Me: That guy mooned everyone.
Deputy: What?
Me: That guy there turned around and mooned everyone.
Deputy: What?
Me: His pants are down below his ass and he stood up and showed everyone his ass.
Deputy: Which one?
Me: That one.
Deputy: There are eight guys in jail clothes sitting there. Which one?
Me: The fat, pasty, white boy with glasses.

The deputy stood and walked across the court room to where the fat, pasty, bespectacled, white boy was now seated.

Deputy (to the fat, pasty, bespectacled, white boy): Get up.
Me (to the fat, pasty, bespectacled, white boy): Pull up your damn pants!

The deputy escorted him to a holding cell. The fat, pasty, bespectacled, white boy gave me a dirty look.

Me: Are you lookin’ at me? Are you lookin’ at me?

The FBI's 10 Most Wanted List

As a reminder to all of our readers, Usama (Osama) bin Laden is still at large and is on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted List. There's a big reward for him.

I'd like to point out to everyone that Catherine Greig, a dog lover who hangs with Jimmy Bulger, the Boston organized crime boss, likes to visit beauty salons.

Is there a most wanted doctor in the house? Paging Dr. Moos! I don't think that "lifestyle medicine" is a recognized A.M.A. specialty, but then again, give them Versed and they won't remember a thing.

Daniel Andreas San Diego, a strict vegan with a number of very interesting tattoos, is still at large. He bombed the Shaklee headquarters and also a Chiron Corporation facility not just once, but twice. Chiron is the flu vaccine maker that got into some trouble for making bad flu vaccine -- and caused a shortage of flu vaccine throughout the world. Chiron is not on the FBI's list, however.

And is the FBI going to investigate and arrest the guy who gave an "agent" $6.75 million in CASH without getting any receipts? I doubt it.

Hey George, There's Still Your War

During the Viet Nam War, the numbers of dead and wounded were about equal. Now, in Iraq, because of improved medical treatment, the ratio of wounded to dead is about 8 to 1. Let's see ... I'm betting that if there were about 7,000 U.S. soldiers killed in Iraq at this point, the American people would be pretty upset about Bush's Crusade. Instead, there are almost 12,500 wounded soldiers, many of them men and women missing arms and legs or paraplegic, of whom we hear very little, you know, so as to "maintain their privacy." The cost in terms of dollars for treatment of these honorable vets has been and, over the rest of their lives, will be enormous, money not counted in the 80 billion dollars just granted to Bush to continue the Iraq War, money not counted in the running total at the bottom of this page; the cost in terms of lost opportunities and diminution in the quality of life is incalculable.

As Abu Ghraib again grabs the headlines, 15,000 dead and wounded Americans and the members of their families, who suffer quietly, have been pushed out of the public's minds and hearts.

May 4 and May 14 will be the 35th anniversary of the killing of four students (nine others were wounded) on the campus of Kent State University by Ohio National Guardsmen and the killing of two students (nine were also wounded) in a dormitory at Jackson State University by police and highway patrolmen.

What will it take for the American people to rip the blinders off? Another Kent State? Another Jackson State?

Read these names and then remember the other list of those maimed for life, for whom barriers for the disabled will not be just an abstract concept against which some lady blogger campaigns:

Cpl. Garrywesley T. Rimes, 30, of Santa Maria, Calif.
Lance Cpl. Tenzin Dengkhim, 19, of Falls Church, Va.
Staff Sgt. Ioasa F. Tavae, Jr., 29, of Pago Pago, American Samoa
Sgt. James A. Sherrill, 27, of Ekron, Ky.
Cpl. William D. Richardson, 23, of Moreno Valley, Calif.
Sgt. 1st Class Stephen C. Kennedy, 35, of Oak Ridge, Tenn.
Staff Sgt. Christopher W. Dill, 32, of Tonawanda, N.Y.
Lance Cpl. Jeremiah C. Kinchen, 22, of Salcha, Alaska
Sgt. Javier J. Garcia, 25, Crawfordville, Florida
Spc. Glenn J. Watkins, 42, of Carlsbad, Calif.
Lance Cpl. Juan C. Venegas, 21, of Simi Valley, Calif.
Staff Sgt. Kevin D. Davis, 41, of Lebanon, Ore.
Pfc. Casey M. LaWare, 19, of Redding, Calif.
Spc. John W. Miller, 21, of West Burlington, Iowa
Spc. Manuel Lopez III, 20, of Cape Coral, Fla.
Cpl. Tyler J. Dickens, 20, of Columbus, Ga.
Cpl. Michael B. Lindemuth, 27, of Petoskey, Mich.
Capt. James C. Edge, 31, of Virginia Beach, Va.
Spc. Aleina Ramirezgonzalez, 33, of Hormigueros, Puerto Rico
Pvt. Aaron M. Hudson, 20, of Highland Village, Texas
Sgt. Angelo L. Lozada Jr., 36, of Brooklyn, N.Y.
Sgt. Tromaine K. Toy Sr., 24, of Eastville, Va.
Spc. Randy L. Stevens, 21, of Swartz Creek, Mich.
Pvt. Joseph L. Knott, 21, of Yuma, Ariz.
Pfc. Steven F. Sirko, 20, of Portage, Ind.
Maj. Steven W. Thornton, 46, of Eugene, Ore.
Pfc. Sam W. Huff, 18, of Tucson, Ariz.
Spc. Jacob M. Pfister, 27, of Buffalo, N.Y.
Pfc. Kevin S. K. Wessel, 20, of Newport, Ore.
Cpl. Kelly M. Cannan, 21, of Lowville, N.Y.
Lance Cpl. Marty G. Mortenson, 22, of Flagstaff, Ariz.
Pfc. Robert A. Guy, 26, of Willards, Md.
Pfc. Gavin J. Colburn, 20, of Frankfort, Ind.
Cpl. Kevin W. Prince, 22, Plain City, Ohio
Hospitalman Aaron A. Kent, 28, Portland, Oregon
Sgt. Anthony J. Davis Jr., 22, of Long Beach, California
Spc. Gary W. Walters Jr., 31, from Victoria, TX
1st Sgt. Timmy J. Millsap, 39, Witchita, KS
Spc. David L. Rice, 22, Sioux City, IA

And let's not forget that in Afghanistan, there is still a war against the terrorists, Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda, that President Bush promised the American people he would use every last resource he had at his disposal to track down and capture or kill.

Sgt. 1st Class Allen C. Johnson, Los Molinos, California, was shot and killed when his unit was ambushed by enemy small-arms fire during a combat foot patrol in Uruzgan Province on April 26, 2005. Also dying in Afghanistan, for what has become a cause paid lip service only by the Bushites, were Spc. Robert W. Defazio, of West Babylon, NY; Pvt. Robert C. White III, Camden, NJ; Chief Warrant Officer David Ayala, NYC; Sgt. Maj. Barbaralien Banks, Harvey, LA.; Capt. David S. Connolly, of Boston; Spc. Daniel J. Freeman, from Cincinnati; Sgt. Stephen C. High, of Spartanburg, SC; Sgt. James S. Lee, Mt. Vernon, IN; Master Sgt. Edwin A. Matoscolon, hailing from Juana Diaz, PR; South Carolina native Maj. Edward J. Murphy; Chief Warrant Officer Clint J. Prather, of Cheney, WA; Staff Sgt. Charles R. Sanders Jr., Charleston, Missouri; Spc. Michael K. Spivey, from Fayetteville, NC; Spc. Chrystal G. Stout, Travelers Rest, SC; Spc. Sascha Struble, of Philadelphia, New York; Pfc. Pendelton L. Sykes II, Chesapeake, Virginia; and Staff Sgt. Romanes L. Woodard, from Hertford, NC.

Check your children as they sleep soundly tonight; many parents don't have that warm feeling you're getting.

The Procedure

Age: 50

This is printed on my medical chart. Also printed in red, 120-point, bold-faced type on my chart is that I am fortunate enough to have some kind of health care insurance. It is these two small bits of information, above anything else, which grants to any physician, physician's assistant, nurse, nurse's aide, other health care practitioner, phlebotomist, lab tech, or janitor carte blanche to do any examination, test, or thing at their disposal upon me.

And how can I "just say no?" Bad things happened on my 50th birthday. Diseases and conditions and syndromes, all attuned to the calendar, know when I turned 50 years of age. And then from each person I encounter, including the valet who took my car, when I drove Stacey to an appointment, so that I could not leave of my own accord, horrific examples poured forth like waters from a fractured Hoover Dam about C-A-N-C-E-R. And D-E-A-T-H.

And even though I had no observable symptoms, it was of utmost importance, imperative, in fact, to "establish a baseline" for future comparison. And if I refuse? Hah! Invisible killers lurk everywhere. It was as if some kind of radio receiver was implanted in my head with the litany of deadly illnesses, like the F-L-U, which all of a sudden became a deadly illness. I could not refuse. It began simply, with the "annual physical exam" by a high school student. He said he was a "physician," but he wasn't old enough to date yet. Now, this was a routine physical exam, but when we got to the end of the exam, which is normally the turn-your-head-and-cough test, he said, "Don't pull them up just yet. I need to check ... your prostate." For those of who aren't familiar with the prostate, or to those of you who know it as "the prostrate," the prostate gland is located in the vicinity of the the turn-your-head-and-cough test, but it is difficult to palpate -- that means touch it and feel it -- from outside the body. How does the doctor palpate the prostate from inside the body? Shit, man, he didn't ask me to open my mouth and say, "Aaaah."

There are some smartass women who will claim that they have been violated by gynecologists annually for as long as they can remember. But that's what gynecologists do. There is no preparation for this prostate thing that any old ... in this case, very young, doctor does. Fathers do not pass it along to sons by word of mouth.

There is something in the air in the clinic environment. I was sent to the appointment administrator. The appointment administrator, ever mindful of my convenience and comfort, already chose dates and times for me, which best matched my profile, from which I could pick. She did, however, with a smile, say, "Friday morning is best ... you can have a long weekend," which I should have recognized as a euphemism; but my judgment was clouded by whatever is in the air there.

Once I was away from the "campus" (Isn't that cute?), however, I had time to ponder the ramifications of their decisions; but the appointment was months away and I put it out of my mind at that point. I got a telephone call last week from a pleasant-voiced lady, sounding suspiciously like my mother (which they divined from my profile was a good thing to do), reminding me of the day and time for my "procedure," my "procedure" to be performed by one of the foremost specialists in the world, Dr. Su. Yes, it would be an honor to be seen by one of the world's best, I agreed with the "mom" voice and assured her I would have no nuts or seeds or aspirin or anti-inflammatory for the week before I saw Dr. Su and that I would read the instructions on Wednesday night to "prep for the procedure" and, of course, get the "prep kit" before then. Then, on Tuesday, I received my appointment confirmation for the "procedure." It was to be done in the "Procedure Area" at 9:30 a.m. on Friday.

I am not being polite here by not calling the "procedure" by its proper name; I need not be polite in this, my forum. The medical procedure was always called "THE PROCEDURE." They didn't want to scare me off ... my profile, you see.

Now, I knew that I had been given all kinds of instructional materials to read and a prescription to do the "prep;" but, in putting the "procedure" out of my mind because it was months away, I forgot where I put the instructional materials and the prescription; so, on Thursday at about noon, I went to Dr. Su's office to get replacement instructional materials and a new prescription for the "prep." I explained that I was having a "procedure" done and that I misplaced the stuff that I had been given when I put off the appointment for as long as humanly possible. Apparently, this happens "all the time" because that is what she told me; then she said something ominous, "You need to start the prep right now, so as soon as you get the prep kit; you need to take the pills and go home and get ready." Get ready? Get ready? THE PROCEDURE was at 9:30 the next morning. This was a little more complicated that they let on, I guess.

So, I went across the street to the pharmacy and picked up the "prep kit." This was like crazy shit here ... take these four pills, which I took right there in the parking lot, which was a mistake to do before reading that I had to drink like eight gallons of this lemon-lime stuff that I had to mix up and start drinking after the ... "first bowel movement." The first? I just took the goddamn pills ... well, how many bowel movements were there going to be? After the first? More importantly, when were they going to start? In an hour? Two? Sooner? I mean, I hadn't had anything to eat that morning. Would things move faster? Could I make it home? Or would I be stuck in some foreign restroom ... a public restroom ... a filthy, icky public McDonald's restroom ... for hours and hours ... without any reading material.

The little picture on the box showed a toilet seat with an arrow pointing at it and the notation "1 to 6" right there. What the hell? One to six o'clock? On the toilet? Drinking eight ounces of this "lemon-lime" stuff I mixed up ... every ten minutes! How many bowel movements could one person have? This was a fucking shitty thing to do to me. Five hours on the toilet? What kind of cruel joke was this? "Prep," my ass!! This was fucking Abu Ghraib shit ... wasn't there a trial going on right now about this kind of ... torture?

And the fucking thing on the dashboard of this rental car I've had for the last month showed "12 miles to E." What the fuck? I needed to stop for gas? Now? No, there was no fucking way I was going to get stuck in some shithole gas station restroom for fucking five hours ... I could make it home ... with four miles to spare.

And something was happening. Some ... thing. Serious shit. Time was running out.

Words cannot begin to describe the next several hours. How many bowel movements after that first one? Two New Yorker issues of continuous, gut-wrenching gushing is the exact answer. My legs were totally numb after the first three hours on the toilet. This was totally how it feels to be a garden hose, with liquid going in the one end and coming out the other end, the end with the brass nozzle adjusted to the hard, line drive. And when would it end? And what hell was Dr. Roto-rooter going to put me through that could be any worse than leaving the spigot run full blast for five fucking hours without having any control over it at all; after all, they would give me drugs for "THE PROCEDURE," massive amounts of mind-altering drugs before running a plumber's snake with a fucking camera attached to it right up my ass. So, the "prep" was working ... I totally didn't care about "THE PROCEDURE" anymore. Whatever Dr. Su felt like doing to me ... well, so be it. Bring it on.

Then it stopped. All of a sudden, nothing was coming out. It took me several minutes to realize what had happened. Dare I try to get off the toilet? It would be just like the evil ones to hold something in reserve for like a half hour, just as a joke ... I remained on the toilet, paging through the Sundance catalog, Robert Redford smiling at me from the inside first page. He was way over 50 ... did HE go through this? And then it hit me, thinking about Robert Redford. How often would I have to go through this torture? Is this an every five years thing or a yearly thing? I mean, if I live to be at least 110, like I'm planning, I'll go through this more than half my life? Could that be? I waited about an hour. It seemed that my colon was clear, ready for extended viewing.

Don't ask me what happened on Friday morning. I know that Dr. Su is a woman. And that one nurse said that the other nurse was the "good" nurse because she would give me drugs. I remember she told me that one drug would be demerol and one drug would be Versed, which induces amnesia. I do remember her pumping about four syringes into the IV. That's about all I remember. I guess it worked.

Next time ... I take the Versed on Thursday ... to go with the "prep."