Matchmaker! Matchmaker!

"Your next client is here."

"Show her in."

"Welcome to Yenta Services, Wasilla's Top Matchmaking Service, Ms Bristol Palin, is it? Let's see what's on your application form, shall we? 19 year old single mom? That complicates things. Never married? That's good. Two messy, well-publicized engagements? Not good. Live at home with "Mama Grizzly"? Might be a deal-killer. But she's never home? That helps."

"Ms Palin, I've got to tell you the eligible bachelor pickings here in Wasilla are slim since that nice Johnston boy went all Hollywood on us. There are plenty of Alaskan boys out there, but we can't guarantee sobriety and you are insisting on a full set of teeth. We may have to expand our search outside the 49th state."

"You're in luck! Yenta Services International can get you a spot on the upcoming season of Dancing With The Stars. The competition will be grueling. You'll be going against 76 year-old Florence Henderson, the former Mama Brady (but you are used to famous Mamas); Margaret Cho, a potty-mouthed Korean-American comedienne (your winsome All-American charm should leave her in the dust); Jennifer Grey, star of Dirty Dancing and nothing else since the 70s (only gay guys and post-menopausal women remember Dirty Dancing); and some bimbo from "The Hills" who will need a teleprompter to do the cha-cha."

"The best part is you get to hang with the male contestants, and, who knows, love may bloom. They include Michael Bolton and David Hasselhof (though they may be a little old for you and neither has that great mullet anymore), a couple of retired athletes (who cares), and, get this, direct from The Jersey Shore, Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino. Your profile shows that you are attracted to guys who are famous for no apparent reason and no one fills that particular bill better than "The Situation". I see sure romance!"

"If "Dancing" doesn't work out, for an additional fee, Yenta can get you a slot as the next "Bachelorette". Look how great that has worked out for those girls. There's a reason why Yenta is #1."

Dream Job

The Marist Institute for Public Opinion reported that given their pick of jobs, Americans would choose:

32% - Actor or Actress
29% - Professional Athlete
13% - President of the US
13% - Rock Star
13% - Unsure

Think it through, America! You may be able to enunciate more clearly than Sylvester Stallone (My dog speaks more clearly than Sly.). You may have fewer arrest warrants and stints in rehab than Lindsay Lohan (Surprisingly, most Americans do.). But 99% of acting careers reach their peak at a dinner theater in New Jersey. For every Sandra Bullock in a designer gown on the red carpet at the Oscars, there are 99 actresses in dirndls serving streudel dessert to the St John's Church Swinging Seniors Club before racing off to perform the big "Climb Every Mountain" finale. Your cubicle job doesn't look so bad now, does it?

Professional athlete seems like a real "dream job". You get paid millions. You get to travel first class. You get half the year off. There is a dark side, however. NY Jets cornerback Antonio Cromartie has been in the NFL for five years and has eight children under the age of five (coincidence?) by six women. Pro Locker Room Status doesn't depend on how good an athlete you are (Everyone's good) or how much money you make (Everyone makes a ton of cash), but on your fertility. Your accountant may be right on top of all those Child Support Payments, but it is well-nigh impossible to remember eight kids' birthdays, and how many Sponge Bob - themed parties can you handle in a year anyway?

The old maxim is that "anyone can grow up to be President of the US". The question is, "Who would want the job?" Granted, you get a house, a swell private jet, Marines to salute you, and a lifetime supply of American flag lapel pins, but the job pays only $400K per year. Is that worth the media mockery when you stumble off a plane (Gerald Ford) or barf on the Prime Minister of Japan (G. Bush the Elder)? I didn't think so.

Rock Star seems like a decent gig, but only if you are young. Paul McCartney held up well over the years, but any of the Rolling Stones do not need make-up to scare Trick or Treaters. Until Rock Star Medical Insurance covers a liver transplant after those years of fame and indulgence, you are better off, long term, retrieving carts at Wal-Mart.

What should be your Dream Job then? How about CEO of a major oil company like BP? Tony Heyward's response to an unprecedented environmental disaster was "I want my life back." While thousands of gallons of crude gushed into the Gulf, Tony jetted back to the UK to participate in a yacht race. Way to show empathy, Tony! As his reward, Tony got a multi-million dollar Golden Parachute and a job heading an oil company in Russia.

Now, there's a Dream Job. Totally screw up and be obnoxious about it, but still collect millions and get another job. Tony Heyward, you're my idol.

Auspices

Humans are instinctively superstitous especially at the start of the day. "Good morning, Og. There's fresh sabertooth tiger tracks outside the cave. You might want to delay that mammoth hunt." "Caesar, I've taken the auspices. The pigeon guts tell me that the barbarians will triumph in today's battle." "Captain Smith, some nut is shouting with his arms extended form the prow of the Titanic. The crew fears that he may be summoning an iceberg." Og, Caesar, and Captain Smith should have followed those superstitions.

For most of us, we can tell it's going to be a bad day when the alarm goes off late, the shower is cold, or the coffee is full of grounds. But the morning auspices can also indicate a good day. I know I'm going to have a good day today because the dog poop said so.

My noble hound deposited a solid, perfectly-formed turd this morning. He had probably consumed mushroom from the lawn yesterday resulting in doggie diarrhea and vomiting all day long. It made for a very bad day indeed.

He seemed to recover overnight and the proof came during his morning walk around the neighborhood with that auspicious poop.

Sure, the alarm was late this morning and the song from the clock radio was by Justin Bieber. The hot water was sketchy as usual in the summer months and we need a new coffee filter. It's still going to be a great day.

Stay Thin

The headline read, "Chilean Miners Told to Stay Thin". This advice ranks right up there on the Homer Simpson "D'oh" Scale of Obviousness with "The snake's tail rattling does not mean that he's happy to see you", "Mama Grizzly will mind if you pet her cubs", and "The Iraqi people will welcome us a liberators". Well, maybe not the last one.

The headlines refers to thirty-three Chilean miners who have been trapped one-half mile underground since 5 Aug. Their only connection to the outside world is three 6-inch diameter holes delivering supplies and fresh air to their emergency shelter. Authorities estimate that it could take up to four months for a rescue shaft to be drilled to them. The problem is that miners with greater than a 35-inch waist could get stuck in the rescue shaft.

Assuming that the emergency shelter does not come equipped with workout equipment and that an elliptical trainer won't fit down a 6-inch hole, the chubbier miners have 120 days to get in tip-top shape without aerobic exercise. Actually, the resulting body odor might pose a whole different problem.

This leaves diet as the means to ensure that all the miners can squeeze through the rescue shaft. "We're sending down your lunch, guys. Skinny Juan gets the Whopper with Cheese. (It barely fits down the supply hole!) Chubby Carlos, you get the undressed salad. Bon appetit!. By the way, dinner tonight is chicken cordon bleu for Juan and carrot sticks for Carlos."

"What's that, Carlos? You say you've hit your 35" waist goal (not that we could check anyway) and you'd like fries with your Whopper?"

"Now, Juan, I'm sure El Chubbo wouldn't lie about his waistline just to get real food for the next 120 days. If he's lying and plugs the first rescue shaft, it will only take 120 days more to drill a second one. If you can handle 120 days without fresh air, sunshine, or cerveza at the strip bar, I'm sure you can handle 240. Stay thin!"

Sadly, the rescue coordinator was unaware of another entry on the Scale of Obviousness - "Never trust a skinny chef or a chubby miner."

Musing

I am in the habit of reading every single line of the newspaper sports section. You never know when someone might ask who won the big Nuevo Laredo, Mexico vs. Ramstein AFB, Germany Little League World Series game.

Half the reason why I read the agate type is to find a name or an event that brings about musing. Wedgewood Golf Club had a Blind Hole Partners Tournament yesterday. Apparently, most golf holes at Wedgewood are sighted. It must be acry to reach into the cup to retrieve a successful putt and discover an eyeball staring back at you. One assumes that for this tournament, you and your partner strive to so boldly stroke your putt into the hole that you "blind' the all-seeing eye. Or maybe not.

Monica Monaco finished second in yesterday's Women's Tournament st Brookside Country Club. That is a great name. One imagines her cheering section chanting, "Monic-a!, Monac-o! Let's win!, Let's go!"

The boston Red Sox optioned catcher Dusty Brown to the minor leagues yesterday. One imagines a cloud of brown behind the plate not unlike the Pig Pen character in "Peanuts" when Dusty is in action. It would be distracting to major league hitters.

Musing on the sports section is fun.

Roots

Those Tea Partiers are at it again. They are now proposing repeal of the 16th and 17th amendments to the Constitution. Let's look at the positive and negative implications.

The 16th amendment allowed the Federal Income Tax. If the Tea Partiers get their way and income tax is eliminated so are those irritating H&R Block ("We find deductions you didn't even know you had.") commercials that make us feel like ignorant dolts every April. That's a good thing. Paychecks for hard-working Americans automatically increase and income for those parasites on the dole doesn't. That's a real positive.

On the negative side, our brave men and women in uniform might have to provide their own firearms and ammo for the national defense, but that's why we have the 2nd amendment. Let's see those Socialists and Liberals try to limit our god-given right to bear arms when that is all that stands between us and the those Redcoats burning down the White House. It worked so well in 1814.

The 17th amendment requires direct election os US senators. Previously, state legislatures were allowed to choose senators. If we go back to the good old days, rich guys who want to buy a senate seat do not have to spend millions on TV advertising showing them as wholesome family men while their opponents are creepy-looking threats to all that real Americans hold dear. With less than a half-million in well-placed "campaign contributions" to the right state legislators, you too can join the storied ranks of Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and Dan Quayle. Or, if you're from Illinois, talk to my buddy Blagojevich. In these tough economic times, we need to be more efficient and spend less to "elect" our senators. That's a real positive.

Being naturally negative, Liberals would claim that "the people" should vote for their senator rather than a bunch of politicians picking him in a smoky back room in the state capital. Well, if that's such a great idea, why isn't it in the original Constitution along with slaves being counted as 3/5 of a person and those flighty women not being allowed to vote? It's not as if things have changed since 1787.

Thank you, Tea Partiers for reminding us of our roots.

International Relations

The British National Tourism Agency published a list of tips that it hopes will help UK citizens give a warm welcome to foreign visitors during the 2012 London Olympics. Tips from that list are followed by their (unpublished) actual meaning below:

TIP: A smiling Japanese person is not necessarily happy. They tend to smile when embarrassed, sad, or disappointed.
ACTUAL MEANING: When a Japanese person smiles after being presented a typical English breakfast of grilled kidney, do not follow up with a serving of blood pudding. They also smile when nauseous.

TIP: Don't be offended by Argentinean humor which may mildly attack your clothing or weight.
ACTUAL MEANING: Who knew that Don Rickles was Argentinean? A snappy response to typical Argentinean insults might be, "We may be poorly-dressed and chubby, but we still have the Falklands. Nyah-nyah!"

TIP: Never call a Canadian an American. Some Canadians take offense at being mistaken for US citizens.
ACTUAL MEANING: Sometimes it's difficult to distinguish between Canadians and Americans, eh? If he has Celine Dion or Bryan Adams on his iPod, sports a mullet, and is polite, he's Canadian. If he lusts after Cuban cigars and loudly comments on "these people" driving on the wrong side of the road and speaking with a funny accent, he's American. If in doubt, ask if he'd like to accompany you to the local mosque for prayers. If he runs the other way or attacks you, he's American.

TIP: Avoid saying "thank you" to a Chinese compliment. Instead politely deny the compliment to show humility.
ACTUAL MEANING: For example. "Yes, we did take good care of Hong Kong for all those years after we stole it from you after the Opium War, but the French or Germans would have done the same."

TIP: Avoid talking to the Japanese with your hands in your pockets or blowing your nose in front of them.
ACTUAL MEANING: People from other countries think it's awesome when you play packet hockey while talking to them especially right after blowing your nose. but not those crazy Japanese. Go figure.

Massive Melon

Sometimes, an off-hand comment opens old wounds. Mention "Rosebud" to Citizen Kane or "Gigli" to Ben Affleck and their eyes will likely fill with tears.

In today's newspaper gossip column, Lucy in Easton asks for confirmation that Hilary Duff, her girlhood idol from "Lizzie McGuire" is married. "She's way too young to have a husband," writes Lucy. Columnist Pinky replies that Hilary has, in fact, marched down the aisle with hockey player Mike Comrie and states, "(Comrie) is NOT CUTE. His head is gigantic, and I mean that literally. Maybe it looks smaller in person. Let's hope."

Pinky's comment opened a personal wound that I had long repressed. Sitting atop my puny shoulders is what Mike Myers referred to as a "massive melon", my size 7-5/8 head. When all the cool guys were wearing their hats backwards, I couldn't. That plastic adjustable strip had to hang free for the hat to fit me at all. It looked like a cuckoo was about to spring from it every hour on the hour. When we would go to the batting cage, I was the guy with the helmet side flaps digging into my temples and causing occasional blackouts. Back when I had a full head of hair, the barber would ice down his clippers for fear they would overheat.

Humiliating as they were, none of the above were my life-long traumatic "Rosebud" moment. When I was five years old, a church block party featured a flat where kids could stick their heads through a hole and be photographed as Hopalong Cassidy astride his horse Topper. Like every other kid in 1953, I was an immense Hopalong fan. It was a long wait in line and when my chance to become "Hoppy" finally came, I couldn't fit my head through the hole. I became "Big Head Ed", the pariah of the 1st grade at James Monroe School.

It's been 57 years, but thanks a lot for bringing that back up again, Pinky. I will now bury my massive melon in a pillow and sob hysterically.

The Ideal Sport

Higher education is a key to success in life. College graduates earn more than $1 million more than high school grads over their working lives and experience better health and more stable marriages as well. Clearly, a college education is the greatest gift a parent can bestow, but it is so damnably expensive.

College loans are available. Unfortunately repayments remain among Mom and Dad's monthly bills long after Josh and Tiffany have graduated (and probably returned home jobless to live in the basement). The best deal would be an academic scholarship. Unfortunately, Josh and Tiff really had problems with Trigonometry and their math SAT scores rule that out. That leaves us with an athletic scholarship. Sadly, Josh abandoned Youth Soccer for video games and Tiff gave up swimming when she discovered boys. That mountain of snacks and those gallons of Gatorade that Mom provided for the Youth team were for naught. Josh had two left feet anyway.

Parents of America, there is hope! Bethel University of Tennessee awarded three bass-fishing scholarships to incoming student anglers this year. Newly-hired fishing coach Garry Mason stated, "I look forward to bringing collegiate bass fishing to Bethel."

Imagine the thrill of sitting in packed stands on a crisp autumn afternoon cheeering on Josh and Tiff as they match wits with those wily bass. ""See that boy over there tying on the Rampala spinner. I taught him the underhand flip cast. That's my son!"

Football players risk concussions. Basketball players develop knee problems. The biggest problem that fishermen face is sunburn and we've got SPF 50 for that. Competitive fishing is the ideal sport and now you can get a college scholarship for it. I foresee empty soccer fields, abandoned gyms, and rusting goal posts as American youth flock to streams and lakes for serious fishing.

The Amended Amendment

Senator Lindsay Graham has figured out why all those pregnant foreign women are flocking to these shores to give birth. It's not because of our "best in the world if you can afford it" health care. Actually, our infant mortality rate is higher than that for Liechtenstein, Anguilla, and the Czech Republic, and you don't see airports crammed with pregnant women there.

It's the Anchor Baby Syndrome. Even if you are an illegal immigrant, a baby born on U.S. soil (or preferably in a U.S. hospital, having a baby on the dirt is really unsanitary) is automatically an American citizen per the 14th Amendment to the Constitution. All those sneaky illegal parents have to do is remain in hiding until their U.S. citizen baby is old enough to petition the courts to allow them legal status. It may take eighteen years or so, but all good things take time.

The 14th Amendment was written to ensure citizenship for former slaves after the Civil War. Senator Graham noted that its writers could not have anticipated modern air travel allowing women to drop in to the U.S. just to give birth. It's high time to amend the amendment and close this gaping loophole!

The amended amendment might have unintended consequences though. As the junior lieutenant in the 802d Engineer Battalion, I was naturally assigned the onerous duty of Intelligence Officer (not that I ever exhibited any signs of Military Intelligence). This required "Top Secret" clearance and a background check. My clearance was delayed when the background check revealed that my grandfather never actually became a U.S. citizen. Apparently, the Delaware & Hudson Coal Company was in such a hurry to get him working in the mines that they scurried him though a side door at Ellis Island. Fortunately, my father had a genuine "Born in the USA" birth certificate. The powers-that-be figured I wasn't a third generation North Korean "sleeper" spy and granted my "Top Secret" clearance.

Dad was technically the son of an illegal immigrant. The 14th Amendment made him (and by extension me) a citizen. If Senator Graham's amended amendment goes through, we are actually illegal aliens. As illegal aliens, Dad and I didn't have to go in the Army. He spent two years getting shot at by the Japanese in the Philippines and on Okinawa and I spent a year getting sneered at by the North Koreans across the DMZ, and we didn't have to!

Senator Graham, that's a great idea you have there. Too bad, it's seventy years too late.

With a k, Part 2

As the police blotter from Musik (with a k) fest continues to fill, we look past the alcohol-related misdeeds to those that are truly unique.

Police noted Charles Nagy carrying a suspicious-looking box across the Main Street Bridge. In this era of terrorism, one cannot be too careful, so the cops stopped Charles and requested a look inside his box. Charles refused and called several officers Nazis which will pique police interest every time. It turned out that the box contained an accordion.

Chuck was planning on playing the instrument for money at one of the platzes. It's not easy to break into show biz. To do so while incarcerated is well-nigh impossible. Still, as Crosby, Stills & Nash sang, "To sing the blues, you've got to live them, too. Carry on". Perhaps the Chuckster was hoping to inject some bitter prison experience into his "blues accordion" compositions. Actually, Johnny Cash's career took off after "Live From Folsom Prison". Maybe. this was all a plan foe Chuck to record "Live From the Bethlehem Jail".

Nothing is more sacred to an urban Lehigh Valley resident than his on-street parking spot. We have all seen lawn chairs and trash cans standing vigil over freshly-shoveled curbsides after a snowfall. With a swarm of 1 million visitors descending on down town Bethlehem for the Fest, lawn chairs and trash cans just aren't enough.

When Tim Moroz found his parking spot occupied and the boxes he had placed there rudely shoved aside, he placed a plastic bag full of dog poop beneath the offending vehicle's windshield wiper with a note stating "I hope you get cancer and die".

Tim was cited for harassment. Should he opt for a trial, he has a good chance of beating the rap if "the jury of his peers' consists of fellow Bethlehemites still steaming over the parking situation during Musik (with a k) fest. His chances would be even better had he chosen a biodegradable bag for the dog poop. Those plastic bags can last for 20 years in a landfill (or on a windshield). It makes him look very vindictive.

Ah, Musik (with a k) fest, a veritable Font of Unintentional Comedy.

With a k

Musik (with a k) fest provides joy to lovers of:

• Musik (Just like conventional music but filtered through heat, humidity, insects and the stench from nearby Porta-Potties).
• Food (Deep-fried Oreos or Snickers, anyone?)
• and Drink ($4 for a 12 oz plastic cup of rapidly-warming beer).

It also provides an endless source of amusement to readers of the police blotter in the daily newspaper.

According to police:

A boy dropped his pants and mooned the crowd at 11:30 PM Wednesday while on the Main Street Ramp. It's the same Main Street Ramp where Bethlehem police park their SWAT Team's armored vehicle and have the department's Command Center along with an array of video cameras. "Excuse me, Officer while I drop my drawers in front of you and all these cameras. What? is this sort of thing frowned upon here in the Christmas City?"

Benjamin Reichenbach was charged with public drunkenness while being carried to his car early Wednesday morning. His blood alcohol content was 0.262, more than three times the legal limit. "Your honor, my client was unaware that BCUI (Being Carried Under the Influence) is a criminal offense. It's not as if he were DUI (Driving) or even WUI (Walking) under the influence."

A 31 year old man passed out with his pants open between City Hall and Police Headquarters. He was charged with public drunkenness. "It's a natural mistake, Officer. I saw guys rushing in and out of this building all night long and figured it must be a really big and elaborate Porta-Pottie. I thought I'd just open my pants and lie down in front of it until it was my turn to go in."

Of course, the classic Musik (with a k) contretemps occurred a few years ago when a patron slugged a police horse that failed to let him pass. How many $4 beers must one consume before the realization strikes that taking a swing at a 1200 pound animal with an armed policeman in its saddle is probably not a good idea?

Alas, Musik (with a k) fest comes but once a year. Still, it provides enough amusing court cases to keep police and judges chuckling until it rolls around again.

Tips for Job Seekers

The Business Section of the newspaper has its share of bad news ("Job Outlook Dims; Unemployment Claims Rise"), but it also includes helpful tips for job seekers.

In these tough economic times, employers are utilizing video conferencing for job interviews. Why have a prospective employee actually visit the workplace? You might have to buy him lunch. It's not like he would like to see where he will be working. He probably wouldn't want to meet his boss and co-workers anyway.

The Brave New World of video-conferenced job interviews is fraught with peril for the employment seeker. Fortunately, today's Business Section gives tips sure to land you that dream job:

1. "Wear office-appropriate clothing. Avoid busy patterns and tee shirts with art work or logos." Your favorite tee shirt with the giant marijuana plant logo might give the wrong impression. Go with the white-on-white shirt and a striped tie preferably in the corporate colors. You don't want to go directly from the HR Hiring Desk to the Drug Testing Room.

2. "Comb your hair, check your make-up, adjust your clothes, and inspect for food on your teeth before your video conference." Employers might forgive that rumpled, fresh-out-of-bed look (Einstein always looked as if he had just arisen from a months-long hibernation and who wouldn't hire Old Al?), but a sprig of parsley dangling from an incisor indicates a careless, slovenly worker.

3. "Recruiters reject Customer Service applicants who can't get through a sentence without saying "Um", "You know", or "Like" over and over." A Hindu accent and rapid-fire diction is OK though. You'll fit right in.

4. "Always wear clean underwear. You never know when you might be in an accident and be admitted to a hospital."

Actually, I made that last one up. Don't these tips for job seekers sound remarkably like what your mother told you every day before you went to school? The key to a successful video-conferenced job interview is apparently the same as that to a successful day at Middle School.

Oh, by the way, "Call your mother! She worries about you."

Mere Mortals

Levi Johnston has gone too far.

He broke poor Bristol Palin's heart yet again, but that's OK. As Shakespeare wrote, "The course of true love ne'er did run smooth." He is running for mayor of Wasilla as part of a reality TV show, but that's also OK. Real Americans don't accept Unemployment Benefits. They seek honest labor. Levi has a child to support after all and that Wasilla job is the gateway to greater things.

Levi's problem is his ego. Asked whether he believed that people would take Levi's political aspirations seriously, his manger said, "People questioned Jesus Christ, so I definitely don't care about these mere mortals questioning Levi Johnston."

The nerve of us "mere mortals" questioning whether Levi's desire in running for office is to serve the people or to get on the air with a reality TV show! We "mere mortals" got it wrong 2,000 years ago questioning Jesus' motives. Levi is practically the same thing. You'd think that we would learn.

Forty plus years ago, John Lennon got in a ton of trouble by stating that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Actually, Lennon was correct. At the time (and possibly today), more people know the lyrics to "Rocky Raccoon" than know the words to The Lord's Prayer.

Lennon was not bad-mouthing Christianity, but simply stating a fact. It didn't matter. "Mere mortals" labelled the Beatles "the Antichrist". Of course, the boys from Liverpool never claimed Jesus-level immunity from questioning. This may explain why they are still beloved after two generations. I wonder if the "mere mortals" of 2050 will similarly revere Levi Johnston.

"Ah, what fools these mortals be."

Scared

One of my favorite bits from the movie "Airplane!" is when Robert Hayes grimaces and grips his seat just before the plane takes off. His seatmate, Barbara Billingsley (Beaver Cleaver's mom from the classic TV sitcom) asks, "You look scared. Is this your first time?"

Hayes replies, "No, I've been scared plenty of times."

Some scary moments are more memorable than others. Number 1 on my list happened in Chicago. Plant Manager Bud Klotz asked me to go to his desk to retrieve a tape measure. Bud was an amateur taxidermist and his office was decorated with all manner of stuffed critters in life-like, generally snarling poses. The tooth-baring raccoon, etc. didn't faze me as I entered Bud's inner sanctum. I was expecting it.

The unexpected (and scary to this day) occurred when I opened Bud's desk drawer to find eyeballs rolling around in there!!!

Of course, they were glass eyeballs for Bud's taxidermy pursuits, but pyre panic seized me initially. Bud and the plant guys later revealed that this was an initiation of sorts for out-of-towners to the big, bad Chicago plant (which actually was on the South Side "the baddest part of town"). They had gotten screams, drawer slams, and quick exits in the past. Their goal was to get someone to pee their pants.

I passed the test with a shouted obscenity (and nightmares to this day). I've been scared plenty of times, but never quite like that. Thanks, Bud.

The Costanza Defense

Move over, Dear Abby, Ann Landers, and Doctor Phil. The preeminent source for advice in combating the vicissitudes of modern life is "Seinfeld". Truly, there is no life situation that has not been covered in a "Seinfeld" episode.

Mark Hurd, former CEO of Hewlett-Packard, was in deep doo-doo last week. A 25 year old "actress" who moonlighted as an "event organizer" for H-P and "greeted" executives at these "events" named Mark and the corporation in a sexual harassment lawsuit. Her lawyers discovered falsified expense reports for Mark's dinners and other "meetings" with the actress. Mark, Mark, Mark...if you're going to carry on an affair with this bimbo, do it on your own dime. Don't write it off to the corporation as a business expense!

Imagine the scene where Mark is hauled in front of the Board of Directors. As he is accused of these flagrant transgressions, Marks flashes back to the memorable "Seinfeld" episode where George faces his boss after being caught having sex in the office with a cleaning lady. "Was this wrong? If I had known that this sort of thing was frowned upon, I would never have done it. Other places I worked, this sort of thing happened all the time."

In the "Seinfeld" episode, George was fired on the spot. In real life, Mark Hurd got $12.2 million in severance pay, stock options that could bring the total package to $40 million, and H-P's lawyers to extract a public statement from the "actress" that their relationship was "non-sexual" so that Old Mark gets to keep every penny of that $40 million. Mark must have been a lot more persuasive than George with the Costanza Defense.

"Seinfeld" also had an episode on the Bizarro World where up is down and you say hello when you leave, etc. Apparently, CEOs live in Bizarro World. Non-CEOs who carry on a two-year affair and charge it to the company are axed immediately.

Coal Miners Forgiven

A Supreme Court Justice once said something like, "I can't define pornography, but I know it when I see it." I have the proverbial "tin ear" for music. I can't define good music, but I know it when I hear it."

Last Saturday, I was strolling past Festplatz at Musik (with a k) fest. Festplatz is the home of polka there. Normally, I gawk inside the tent and walk on by. If you want to clear a dance floor of 60s-era music fans like me, play a few bars of "Roll Out the Barrel" and we will race toward the exits.

But this was no ordinary polka band playing. It was Grammy Award-winning Jimmy Sturr and his Orchestra. Jimmy and the boys belted out "Pennsylvania Polka" and it was good. I mean, really good. I stopped and listened. Pretty much everyone else who wandered past also stopped. It got to the point where Security had to clear crowds from the aisleways.

Jimmy and the boys do polka with a down-home country twang. It shouldn't work, but ti does. If there are musical genres that I've been overexposed to and therefore despise, polka and country are 1 and 1A. Growing up in Scranton, the radio airwaves were clogged with Stanky & the Coal Miners, Stosh & Yosh, the Connecticut Twins, and Buck Owens & His Buckaroos. Only on rare crystal clear nights could my trusty transistor radio pick up Chuck Berry or Little Richard on the Philly or New York stations. I resented Stanky, Stosh, and Buck for that.

All is forgiven, Coal Miners, Connecticut Twins, and Buckaroos. Jimmy Sturr has caused me to see the light. Polka and country are, in fact, good music. I know it because I heard it.

Justin in 3-D

There have been great film biographies over the years. "Abe Lincoln in Illinois", "The Story of Louis Pasteur", "Marie Curie" and the like brought historical figures to life (and greatly eased the task of procrastinating middle schoolers tasked with writing Social Studies reports on these famous folk).

Despair not, Students of the Future! When you are assigned a report on the life and times of that icon of 2010, Justin Bieber, you will not only have his published memoirs (expected in book stores by Valentine's Day, 2011), but a "3-D big-screen biopic" (showing at a theater near you, Summer, 2011).

Memoirs are one thing. After all, Justin is all of 16 years old and if there is a year in a young man's life that is "memoir-able", that is it - Driver's Test, Algebra II, sneaking into R-rated movies. Justin's memoirs should rank right up there on the NY Times Best Sellers List with Sarah Palin's depiction of "The Real America".

A 3-D movie recounting Justin's lief is something else. Abe, Louis, and Marie rated their biopics by freeing the slaves, conquering disease, and developing the X-ray. But their biopics were only 2-D and black-and-white to boot. Imagine what Justin is going to do to rate a 3-D biopic. The plot hasn't been released yet. My guess is that the producers will take the most successful 3-D franchise so far, "Avatar", and blend in Justin's life story with a few minor embellishments.

In the movie, Justin was actually born on Pandora. In a freak accident involving Unobtanium, he achieved human form and was transported to Canada where he grew up unaware of his Pandoran legacy much like Superman. Justin becomes aware of his Pandoran origin and is torn between his dual identities as a teen idol and a truly illegal "alien". It's cinematic magic.

Bankruptcy Blues

Bankruptcy is painful. Charles Dickens wrote of the horrors of 19th century Debtors prisons. Fall behind on your mortgage or your horse-and-buggy payments and the progenitor of Citibank would swoop in for all your assets, throw you in prison, and ship your wife and kids off to the Workhouse until your debts were satisfied. Ah, the Golden Age of Banking!

Bankruptcy laws became more humane in the 20th century. You are entitled to certain "protected assets" that Citibank's Repo Man cannot touch and little Josh and Tiffany need not join Oliver Twist on the sneaker assembly line. That work is all done by kids in Cambodia and Sri Lanka anyway and they don't ask for another bowl of porridge,

Last week, the US Congress struck a blow for real Americans in these tough economic times. It approved a bill permitting individuals filing for bankruptcy to exempt up to three firearms with an aggregate value of $1,500 from creditor's claims. You can still lose your home, your car, and the clothes off your back to Citibank, but, by God, they're not getting your AK-47.

This is the same Congress that initially rejected extending Unemployment Benefits to the long-term jobless. Now, the unemployed would be wise to use that last benefit check not to pay off their mortgage or pay down their credit card bills but to buy a firearm. You can use it to shoot your own food in the nearby woods, or, for you urban dwellers, empty out the neighborhood bodega.

Interestingly, all six local Congressmen, Republican and Democrat alike, voted in favor of this bill. It is, after all, an election year and it simply would not do to anger the NRA and find oneself at the end of the line for those NRA campaign contributions.