The end is near.

I am sitting here staring at this picture of the family at Disney World from like 8 years ago, and as I look at it, I notice how cute the little ones were back then and realize I actually miss when they were young. Then I get this strange feeling inside. I want to go upstairs and hug my kids.

Now being the rebellious, young teenagers that they are, I am sure I would get a look that is usually reserved for a something like vomit. What are you doing dad? But where did the urge come from? These days I want to slap them 3 stooges style upside their head every once in a while. Ok, ok, I love them to death and I really don't want to smack 'em, but I do, you know what I mean? In an instant I see the end, that day when they are off to college, or moved out of the house. And they're gone. I am going to be a basket case I think.

So as much as they piss me off, don't do what they're told, come home with a D or an F, demand things around the house, make me drive them all over town, and generally make my life a more stressful than it needs to be, I am going to try and show them every day, from now until the day they are gone, that I love them. Be it a hug, or a smile, or a cheer at a basketball game. They'll still be held accountable for their actions, but a hug beats giving them $20's all the time.

Random thoughts on a random night....

OK so what's all the hubbub about this Super Bowl commercial starring Tim Tebow? The Heisman winning football star is to do a spot for a pro-life group and it has people foaming at the mouth calling for it to banned. Anybody else see the irony here? Our kids are allowed to be subjected to commercials for male fertility, but if we dare tell them of the consequences it's not? "Hey dad, what does erection mean?" And this from the event that brought us Janet Jackson's nipple. Grab the remote, and turn the channel or hit the mute button if you don't agree with it.

So we had to pick up my son from school today. The dreaded "flu" has breached the castle walls of our home and invaded the 5 year running barf-free zone. Now one can only live in the basement for so long, so eventually I will have to enter the germ area upstairs and face the fact that I could get it too. The poor lad is more upset that he will miss a basketball game tomorrow, leaving the team short, than he is about being sick. Turns out they gave it to each other, and the team is down to seven healthy bodies at last text message count. And? He didn't get the shot. Too busy with, um, basketball.

A new book out, Game Change, has cast former prez Bill Clinton in a rather unfavorable light. Remember when Ted Kennedy threw his support to Obama instead of the Hill in 2008 rather suddenly? The author claims that Kennedy was deeply offended by remarks made about Obama. ... But Bill then went on, belittling Obama in a manner that deeply offended Kennedy....Teddy fumed that Clinton had said, "A few years ago, this guy would have been getting us coffee". It seems those Clintons just can't stop making headlines. Something tells me there will be more to come.

Why is it that every time I want to watch something, just when I get settled in the DVR tells me that 2 recorded programs are about to collide and boot me off my station? We ARE that commercial where the whole family are standing in their living room aiming their remotes at each other like phasers from Star Trek. Only with us, it's not Happy Pony. It's always House, Nip Tuck, Melrose Place, Desperate Housewives, some Kate Jackson Movie on Lifetime from 1987, or Hannah Montana, Wizards of Waverly Place, Finneas and Ferb, Suite Life on Deck, not to mention Americas Best Dance Crew, Ace of Cakes, and Silent Library plus dozens I can't even remember. I just want to watch every Bears, Bulls, Blackhawks, and Cubs game on TV, not to mention playoffs for every sport, plus the occasional Tennis or Golf Championship, and.... Yea I guess we are addicted to TV.

Christmas lights and the squirrel.

So as I strap on the protective outerwear prior to my mission to take down the Christmas lights, I notice that same damn squirrel is now sitting on the patio, staring at me. I stare back, in one of those blinking contests to see who has the tougher mental fortitude. Squirrel 1, Guitarman 0. Putting some eye drops in to relieve the dryness of not blinking for 47 minutes, I step outside.

"I am still mad at you," says the offending rodent.

"Not the birthday cake thing? How long are you gonna hold that grudge?" I ask.

"As long as it takes, he says. "And don't think I didn't smell that banana bread last week either."

"Look," I says, "food in the house, humans. Food in the yard, birds and squirrels. Got it?"

"Oh I'm sure PETA would love to hear this." With that he whips out his cell phone. He's bluffing, I know he is. He has AT&T, and their coverage is spotty here.

Ignoring him, I start attacking the lights, winding them around my arm to become some massive tangled knot to be dealt with next November. Bits of mud and slush are getting all over my clothes, boots and face. Every so often I throw a backwards glance at the squirrel, who seems to be chatting innocently on the phone.

After about 30 minutes of reaching, bending, winding, and getting stuck by pine needles, I can see the end in sight. But now I am getting nervous. I don't see the squirrel anywhere. Furtively glancing in all directions, I gather up the lights and head for the shed. And that's when he pounced.

As his razor sharp claws dig into the back of my skull, he shrieks "NATURE HATER!" and proceeds to take a bite of my ear. I shriek in white hot agony as I tear at the buck toothed assassin, unable to peel him off.

"I just wanted to take down the damn lights!!" I yell.

"Yea, but this is MY HOUSE out here, BE-OTCH!"

I decide at that moment I have had enough. Pulling at his tail I manage to get it in my mouth, and bite down hard. Now I don't know about most of you, but squirrel tail doesn't taste at all like I expected. In a moment of sheer brilliance, I remember the Crock Pot. Flying into the kitchen the squirrel finally starts to release his grip, perhaps sensing the momentum shift. Alas, he is too late, as I fling him into the Crock Pot, slamming the glass lid down on top of him. The beady little eyes staring at me from inside almost looked sympathetic for an instant. But, regaining my sense of purpose, I turn the knob to slow cook. "Welcome to MY house, be-otch." Squirrel 1, Guitarman 1.

Next week: the tie-breaker.

What makes a scumbag? The election year is a good place to start.

"You little scumbag!!" screams Sargent Hartman, the epitomic drill instructor from Full Metal Jacket. You can't escape the sheer elegance of his vulgarity in the first half of that movie. I can't tell you how many time I have yelled, "I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck!" at someone. But today I want to take a look at that most fervent of insults, scumbag.

Bill Clinton once called Vanity Fair's Todd Purdum "...a scumbag..", among other choice words, for suggesting the ex-president was trying to derail Hillary's presidential bid. A stinging rebuke coming from a guy who was getting a blow job in the Oval Office from an intern while discussing matters of national security on the phone. If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, then black doesn't exist. But lets break the word down. "Scum" brings to mind images of filthy sewers, stagnant ponds, and port-a-potty's. Webster defines it thusly: extraneous matter or impurities risen to or formed on the surface of a liquid often as a foul filmy covering. And "bag" is, well, it's just a bag. So put scum in a bag and you have what quantifies your average politician running for/holding an office in Illinois. And all of this from just today's newspaper.

Let's take State Rep Monique Davis. Chicago State University recently discovered a $25,000 statue missing, and it turned up in the office of Ms. Davis. No one knows how it got there, but the fact that funding CSU was one of her projects makes you wonder if she felt she was entitled to it. And she refuses to give it up, or even say how it came to be there. Something tells me had it turned up in a pawn shop instead it would be a criminal matter. Scumbag? Maybe. How about Chicago Plan Commission member Leon Finney? Member of a board that oversees housing, and he is a slumlord, with one tenant describing her apartment run by Finney as "...rats, roaches and mold; falling plaster; leaky roofs, broken doors stairs and porches, and a shortage of light and heat." And this guy is on a housing committee? Scumbag for sure. And let's not ignore gubernatorial candidate Dan Hynes, the poster boy for negative campaigning. His latest swipe is an ad that quotes the late Harold Washington from his grave in denouncing Pat Quinn. Anyone remember Hynes dad when he quit the democratic party to run as an independent against Washington because he couldn't stand the fact that Harold was getting the nomination from his party for mayor? Scumbag runs in that family.

But today's "Scumbag of the Week", (hey there's an idea for a weekly column!) goes to one time presidential hopeful John Edwards. Not only was he screwing around (literally) with a campaign staffer while on the campaign trail all while his wife was dealing with cancer, but revelations came in the form of a book by a former top aide that really fills the bag to the top. You see, a daughter was born of the fling. In succession, Edwards a) denied the child was his, b) conned said aide into claiming the child as his, c) asked said aide to arrange a fake paternity test, all while d) asking the aide to steal a diaper from the baby to do his own DNA test in private to get the actual results. Scumbag? With a capital S!!

This is the tip of the iceberg. It seems that once the average politician, and especially those in our now punch-line state of Illinois, get into power, they just can't avoid the "scumbag moment." It's that instance when they realize that they can have their hand in the kitty, be it money, power, sex, or even art, and get away with it. Almost. Wow, an article on scumbags, and I did it without even mentioning Rod Blagojevich once.

Newsflash: Tell us something we don't already know.

Let's see, what to write about today? Sometimes I sit at the keypad and just start typing until something comes out that doesn't smell like my sons socks after basketball practice. Other days, something appears in the newspaper to get my juices flowing. Like today. Ever read these studies that appear practically daily and wonder how someone would even think to come up with that? Like, "Frozen ostrich testicles make you smarter." Or the ones that seem to be so obvious you have to wonder why they wasted money on that. Like, "Newsflash: People are happier on weekends." I made up the first one, that second one is real.

Seriously, where does the money come from to pay some so-called expert to tell us the painfully obvious truth? Hey professor, ever heard the term TGIF? Working, not so much fun. Not-working, a little more fun. Hence, having more fun = being happier. Now had the study said, "4 out of 5 dentists say they are happier at work while drilling a hole into someones mouth," I would sit up and say, "Wow, I wish I had become a dentist." But telling us we are feeling a little better about ourselves as we are cracking open a beer while watching football as opposed to sitting at a desk while your boss yells at you isn't worth the price of admission.

Take a peek at the top studies this week. "Men get bigger economic boost from marriage." Hmmm, a two income household being an economic boost over a household of one. Who woulda thunk it. Sounds like it may have been funded by The National Institute of Marriage. And this one, "Men pick up on female scent." A bunch of dudes were given shirts to smell that had been worn by females for 3 days without washing, (a little gamy maybe?) and their testosterone levels went up. This one goes back to the caveman days. Its a basic concept in the animal kingdom. Female emits smell, male gets turned on, offspring emerge sometime later. Got that one on the Discovery Channel. Or how about this one, "War takes toll on Army wives." Women with soldier husbands that are deployed in war zones have a depression rate that is higher than those with husbands that did not go to war. So lets see. You're at home alone with the kids, you've probably moved around a few times, the army pay your husband sends home every month is barely putting food on the table, let alone that XBOX game the 10 year old has just gotta have or he won't eat his vegetables, and to top it off, really nasty bad guys who would rather strap explosives on their body than give you the time of day are trying to kill your husband. Now why in the world would they be stressed out?

Seriously, how do I get one of those jobs? My first study would be to figure out how marriages can exist when one spouse squeezes the toothpaste from the middle, while the other one takes the time to carefully squeeze every last drop from the end. Or better yet, how every time we have an election, the same tired promises are regurgitated over and over and over by the talking heads, and the lemmings, I mean voters, fall for it like its the first time they ever heard it. "Oh, but I think THIS guy really means it." I guess the so-called experts feel the need to prove their worth once in a while. Here's the one I really want to see, "Researchers paid to tell us the obvious: study. A recent study shows that most studies are useless and don't tell us anything we don't know." Now THAT one would be worth every penny.

Obamas plan for America: or, How to silence more than 50% of the country.

So according to a recent Washington Post-ABC News poll, President Obama's approval rating for this health care reform thingy has slipped below the 50% mark. Let me say that in plain English. Less than half the country thinks this is a good idea. Or, more than half the country thinks this is a bad idea. But the government is now forging ahead at a newly discovered Warp 11 to get this passed, all for the sole reason that if they don't do it soon, it won't pass at all. Want to know why?

Ted Kennedy's senate seat, that's why. And a heavy dose of politics. It seems that the late senators dream of health care reform could be doomed by the very seat that he held. That's right, the Massachusetts senate seat could go to, now hold your breath, a REPUBLICAN. (Insert sound bite of Janet Leigh's scream here) In a state that not only has been the bastion of Democrats since the name Kennedy became synonymous with the party on the left, Dems outnumber Reps by a 3-1 margin. Scott Brown, the Republican who dares to take the seat, has vowed to ix-nay the said health care thingy, thus taking away the senates filibuster proof margin. And this doesn't sit well with POTUS.

You see, the election is tomorrow, and given the approximate 1 to 2 week inauguration period, if Brown wins, he could be sworn in just in time to vote against the package that the majority of the American people don't want. But the administration is having none of that. They want to rush it through before the public, via Scott Brown, can have its say. So basically, they want to deny the will of the people in order to save face. They are even planning on a contingency just in case Brown gets sworn in before they can stick it to us. They are going to accept a version of the bill they didn't want, in a concession to House Democrats, just to, again, save face. That's right. They will push through a bill that they have so vehemently argued against in the past, just to, whew I am getting tired of repeating myself, SAVE FACE. People, there is a damn good reason why we have a 2-party system. It is to deny exactly what is taking place here. Giving too much power to any one group, bad idea. Check and balances, good idea.

So, here we are on the brink of the most important event in the brief career of Obama, and the politicians involved, worrying about their own re-election chances however far down the road, would rather cover their own ass than do what the people actually want. President Obama is just the latest in a string of Presidents that has campaigned to try and bring the country together. But it is clear, at least in my living memory, that we haven't been more apart.

Teenager 101. This is war.

What in THE hell is wrong with my teenagers? One believes that everything from the pudding cups in the refrigerator to the TV in the living room is hers only. The other grumbles one word answers like a pissed off Brian Urlacher to the media. Actually, there is nothing wrong with them. Their behavior comes right out of the teenager handbook.

To quote a friend who is on the top side of the whole teen thing, (oldest is now around 19-20) "They are the worst things on the planet." Well I guess that suicide bombers, drunk drivers, child rapists, Wisconsin drivers and Nancy Pelosi probably classify as actually being worse. But they don't live in my house, and thus are not subjected to our rules. But, having been a teenager once myself, I can attest that is a very stressful part of ones childhood. But when does a rude, disrespectful outburst become acceptable behavior? And the old saying "pick your battles" is a little hard to follow when the battles start coming fast and furious like blobs of paint coming out of a paint-ball gun. You see, everything is our fault. These aren't just mere battles of wits. No this is all out war.

When they refuse to/can't get out of bed in morning and make the bus, it's all our fault. (Hey, remember that alarm clock we bought you? Try using it.) When we won't buy that pair of jeans they just gotta have, it's all our fault. (Excuse me but we just bought you a pair last week, you didn't tell me then that they didn't fit right.) When we won't allow them to take their savings out of the bank to buy the newest video game, it's all our fault. (There is no future to teens, it is all in the NOW.) When we get on them to do some work around the house, forcing them to stay up late and do their homework, you guessed it, it's all our fault. (The years of servitude are now over. Gotta walk on your own now kid.) At some point, their life of childhood becomes one of entitlement. They figure that they have paid their dues already and now they are due something. Respect? Independence? I don't even think they know. It's almost like the loving child you raised from a seed goes into some cocoon where they hopefully emerge as that beautiful butterfly. Making smart decisions, talking respectfully to us, you know, acting like a human being. It's the time spent inside the cocoon that drives us to the brink.

Okay I can hear most of you already. There are far worse things teenagers can get into. Drugs, gangs, sex, murder, I read about it every day. They really are good kids. I thank God all the time that they are spared the brutality that some kids have to go through just to make it to their teen years. And for those of you with young kids, don't believe that you can avoid the coming war. It's out there, and it's coming to a theater near you. Now if only I could get Obama to send ME a "surge" in troops, I might get a handle on this thing before my oldest comes home with a ring in his nose, a gang tattoo on his butt, and drops out of high school to marry his pregnant girlfriend.

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

One year and counting. Well, not quite an actual year, it hasn't even seemed like it's been that long. More like a season. A long, cold, wet season. Jan 31 2009 was my last day of my employment on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange.

Leaving for greener pastures, I quickly came to realize that the greener pasture wasn't a pasture after all. It was more like a swamp. Or bog. I like bog. It brings to mind slimy creatures and gooey muckity-muck. Legs glued in place, unable to inch forward. If I sat down I would never get up. And thus the futile search for meaningful employment continues, unable to move forward, knowing full well that if I give up, I might as well move into a cardboard box underneath Wacker Drive in Chicago.

And what to do today? Clean house? Watch TV? Play guitar? Chat on facebook? Finish that novel I started 3 years ago? Guess what? It's 11:00 am and I have done all of the above. All except the novel of course. (Problem there is, every time I get on a roll, get a little idea in my head that turns into a big idea, the 13 year old comes home from school with her typical teenage brooding. "When am I getting a drum set? How much money do you owe me? Who ate my pudding? When are moving to a bigger house?" Yada, yada, yada.) Faithful readers might remember one of my first posts, celebrating the new found freedom of joblessness. Well utter ennui has set in, and now despair is taking over. The monotony of the day in day out routine we call life is even more mind numbing when one is not working. Whether you like your job or hate it, at least deep down you feel at the end of the day that you actually accomplished something. When I go to bed I have accomplished Jack. Unless you count getting through that stack of movies you have been meaning to watch.

Oh, don't cry for me Argentina. It's all my own fault. I left a job that was a steady paycheck for something that was a pipe dream. After 20 years in the cesspool of the trading pits, watching one rich asshole after another walk past my nose with stories of free money being handed out, I started to believe my own BS. That I could become one of them. (I'll take being a rich asshole over being a poor asshole any day.) It all comes down to one thing. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. That's the problem with gift horses. You never know you have one until someone rides the damn thing off into their own sunset.

I'm not so think as you drunk I am.

Alcohol. God I love it. No, not what you think, I am not a wino. I don't wake up and have a shot with my coffee. (worked for a guy once who did that, scary) And I am what I figure to be .1%, that's one out of a thousand, of the male population that, get this, HATES the taste of beer. Ever heard a guy say that? Sure I'll have a cocktail ever now and again, but no I am not a drunk. I love alcohol for what people mostly say and do when they are drunk, with the lone exception of turning their cars into death seeking missiles on our roads, robbing some poor innocent of his life all because some schlep couldn't call a damn taxi. Throw those assholes in the hoosegow and melt the key.

Take Sean Kelly from my previous column. Your bride to be has just spent the last 3 months of her life talking to DJ's, photographers, florists, dress makers, and card shops. Tasting entrees, wines and deserts. Going from store to store spending endless hours on her registry. Writing guest lists, seating charts and vows. And don't forget the rehearsal dinner, honeymoon reservations, and the writing of wedding vows. All followed up by the writing of checks, checks, and more checks. And all of it done to happen IN ONE DAY. Done for the sole purpose of making it the best day of her life. And your hillbilly of a husband ruins it all with one swipe of the fist. Yes Sean Kelly was arrested on his wedding day for punching his brother in-law of only a few hours in the face. All because, you guessed it, he was drunk.

Now let's take youtube. Just go type in "drunk guy" or "drunk chick" and see how many hits you get. I'll do it for you. 71,600 for "drunk guy". 52,400 for "drunk chick". Looks like the guys "win". The first one I clicked on, I am laughing my ass off as this guy barely manages to stay upright in the course of trying to get the cooler door open in a liquor store. When he does manage to get a 12 -pack out, the added weight to one side of him sends him careening off the Doritos onto the floor, where he spends the next 5 minutes trying to get up. I could watch this shit all day.

Now most everyone can remember that one time (or two, or ten times) you had to beg for forgiveness because you were smashed. "But honey, I didn't know my face was in her breasts. I was DRUNK! I thought I was licking a cantaloupe! It was locusts, a flood! IT WASN'T MY FAULT!!" It's a built in excuse that the world has given itself for boorish behavior that gives the offender a get out of jail free card with the offended. And we are supposed to accept it and move on? Are we sure that this isn't ones true self unleashed by the liquid courage produced by alcohol? All good questions leading to the moral of the story.

Okay, okay, I have no moral to this story. It's more like the "plot". At a recent party, an attendee and I had shared a few good natured ribs. Towards the end as the person was getting ready to leave, I, in my typical joking manner, got in one last comment, to which the person turned to me and replied, "Duck POO!" Or something that sounded an awful lot like that. It may have started with the letter "F". All in front of the alarmed party's host and my 13 year old daughter. But, having been FU'ed a few times before, I took special offense at the emphasis on the second word. Not DUCK poo, like "I get the joke", but Duck POO, as in, "I have always wanted to say that to you". And, you guessed it, everyone said that she was drunk and didn't mean it.

Now I could brush it off to alcoholic influence, if indeed the person was drunk. I have no knowledge that the person was or wasn't. But I have always taken pride in the fact that I am a good judge of people, and I hope that deep down, the person didn't really mean it. Still waiting for an apology. Ah, maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion. But I am not a person who is going to give someone alcohol as an excuse. Last night I wasn't drunk, and I know what I heard.

Stupid is as stupid does.

"Stupid is as stupid does." I say it all the time. Mostly when driving in Wisconsin, but who doesn't remember that famous line from Forest Gump? Amanda J. Kessler, Sean Kelly, Raul Gaucin-Valenzuela, Todd Stroger, and The United States of America don't.

It's amazing. Stupid is like an infectious disease, spreading from one unsuspecting idiot to us all. No Turn On Red signs sprout up everywhere because one or two stupid people have forced the county and state to protect us all from ourselves. Warning labels that every single person with a shred of common sense don't need adorn everything from gas pumps to irons. But the sheer stupidity of people trumps it all.

Amanda J. Kessler didn't think it was enough to just be charged with a DUI, she drove herself to court and showed up, you guessed it, drunk. Sean Kelly apparently disliked his brand new brother in-law so much he punched him in the face. AT HIS OWN WEDDING. Wonder what that Thanksgiving dinner will be like next year. Raul Gaucin-Valenzuela broke into a home to help a buddy beat up the the buddy's ex-girlfriends new boyfriend, only to run into a couple of kids. HIS kids. He didn't know the ex-girlfriend was the baby sitter of his own kids. And Todd Stroger? Not that I really need to point any one thing out, he seems to have STUPID branded on his forehead. But he called a group of African-American reporters to his campaign headquarters to try and get the media on his side for once. And then failed to show up at his own meeting.

But it is the great US of A that gets my vote for "Knucklehead Move of the Decade". It turns out that a full 20% of released really nasty bad guys from the Guantanamo prison have returned to the "battlefield" to continue the jihad against us. Including the potential mastermind of the failed Christmas day bombing of the Detroit bound jetliner. (Side question: Hasn't poor Detroit suffered enough? Not only are the auto plants all shutting down and houses going for like $20, but the Pistons suck and they are still stuck with The Lions. If I was a terrorist I'd aim for Lambeau Field)
(Side note #2: After I wrote and posted this, I read in Fridays paper that Rep Mark Kirk,naval inelligence officer, says that EVERY current Taliban leader in Afghanistan is a former Gitmo guest. EVERY ONE.)

Listen, people aren't born stupid, and countries like the US become mega-world powers by not being stupid. Something has to happen along the way to become stupid. Maybe this election thingy every couple of years should be a wake up call to not elect stupid people. But if people themselves are too stupid to research candidates and believe the campaign BS they spew, then we get what we deserve. Now if we could only get Verizon to come up with an app for that we'd all feel better.

One bad day, one list of dreams.

God I hate today. Newspaper full of bad news, it's the last day of the holiday season, but it's the fact that it's the last Bears game of the 2009 season that brands the reality of no football for 9 months into my brain that has me feeling the blues. Oh sure, there will be football in the coming weeks. No doubt some exciting, highlight reel, cringe inducing, helmet slamming, smash mouth games will be played out. But without the Bears, who really cares.

Who do I root for today? If the Bears win against the perennially hapless Detroit Lions, it won't change a thing. Or will it? Several columnists seem to think Lovie Smiths future could possibly ride on this game. After 3 seasons of futility, how could a win over the worst team of the decade have any bearing? But this is how the Chicago Bears brain trust operates. I don't even have the energy to work up an argument. But it's not just the Bad News Bears that have me down. Here's hoping that we wake up Monday morning to the following headlines:

Entire Bears Coaching Staff and Upper Management Fired by Virginia McCaskey
In a bold and unprecedented move, General Manager Jerry Angelo, Team President Ted Phillips, and Head Coach Lovie Smith along with his staff have been shown the door by team matriarch Virginia McCaskey. Quote, "That emotionless jellyfish of a manager and absolutely clueless GM and President I have employed all these years have not only been relieved of their duties, but as a matter of respect to the fans have refused any payment on the remainder of their contracts. Can someone get me Bill Cowhers phone number?"

Released Gitmo Terrorists Recaptured
One time Guantanamo prisoners Said Ali al-Shihri and Ibrahim Suleiman al-Rubaish, who were believed to have had a hand in the failed Christmas day bombing of a Detroit bound jetliner, have been recaptured in Yemen. The US had staged a covert operation with Navy SEALS and brought the suspects back into US custody. President Obama said of the op, "I am getting tired of the US looking so weak in the eyes of the world. We should have never let these a-holes out in the first place."

Flying Car That Runs on Water Unveiled
Inventor H. Humphrey Middlebottom has taken the lid off his newest invention, a flying car that not only runs on water, but is completely controlled by the operators brainwaves. Mr Middlebottom says of his remarkable achievement, "Well it is the future now after all. I just felt I owed it to the world to bring the "Jetsons" to the present." In related news, the CEO's of BP, Mobil, and Shell were found dead of apparent suicides, each leaving their entire net worth to the country to pay off the national debt.

Charges Dropped Against Accused Navy SEALS
The 3 Navy Seals charged with punching a detained really nasty bad guy who was behind the infamous Fallujah Massacre have been cleared. US prosecutors woke up one day and realized that the charges were heinous, and these guys were "just doing their job." Meanwhile, the really nasty bad guy was transferred to a tent near the rose garden at the White House, and President Obama has invited the 3 Navy SEALS to sit down with him and the RNBG and have a beer.

Hillary Clinton To Leave Public Office
In a stunning move, Secretary of State and onetime presidential hopeful Hillary Rodham Clinton has decided to leave politics. "I just felt that the bulk of the US population is sick and tired of hearing the name Clinton. And I am advising Chelsea to pursue a career in fashion."

One can dream, no?

Over the hill and partied out...is it that time already?

So it's the morning after. Breakfast has been made, mimosa's have been downed, and the floor is littered with the confetti from about 100 little poppers. And I am not hung over, which means one of two things. I didn't drink enough last night, or I am getting too old for this shit.

When the kids were little, one of the little New Years Eve joys was changing all the clocks to read an hour ahead. Then putting on the New York countdown, and conning the kids into believing it was midnight, thus allowing the adults to have a quiet hour to themselves and ring in the New Year. Worked for years until they got their first cell phones and realized that in fact the parents were lying. You can't change the time on those infernal contraptions. But I have to admit, that indeed, for probably the first time EVER, the Guitarman wanted to go to bed before midnight.

We were never into the whole, drop-some-serious-cash-on-some-party-where-you-ring-in-the-new-year-with-complete-strangers. We preferred to have a few friends over with their kids, make a nice dinner, and drink too much. Usually worked out great, finally getting the kids to stop running around like head-less chickens from a cupcake-root beer buzz at about 1am. Then staying up chatting 'til the wee hours, waking up to mounds of eggs, waffles, hash browns, and mimosas. But these days I am feeling the burn of middle age. Last night I just wanted to go to bed.

Yea getting old has its drawbacks. As I sit here typing this, I am watching my 18 year younger sister do tae-bo while cursing Billy Blanks and his military style pounding. I could never muster up that much energy on the morning after New Years Eve, not even when I was 28. But one thing is for sure. I AM becoming my parents. I used to wonder why they never stayed up until midnight, but now I know. They are just partied out.