Eat your heart out, Casey Kasem

The obvious points of interest (Sarah Palin's ridiculous final weeks on the job, the GOP's floundering assault on wise Latina women, Prince Fielder winning the otherwise unimportant Baseball All-Star Home Run Derby, the upcoming 40th anniversary of Apollo 11) seem a bit underwhelming to me. Today is that ultimate test one's own humility - my birthday. And a big one if the Hallmark corporation and its fellow guilt marketers are to be followed. Today I begin my 5th decade on the planet. The big four-oh. To be honest, it feels pretty good.

I like to think this is my George W. Bush moment. At 40, he quit drinking, found religion, got serious about getting new and exciting jobs he was also totally unqualified for, and eventually did everything in his power to bring down the country. But I'm no Dubya. I like to think big. So I'm going to say bring 'em on, make the pie higher, and don't misunderestimate me all in one tortured sentence. Still, for all those historians looking to analyze just what made me so, um, me...I offer a random list of things I love and thank the gawds for having created. In no particular order.

1. Hats, of all shapes, so long as they have a brim.
2. Sparkling water with juice and a touch of lime.
3. Sunglasses that work even on cloudy days.
4. King-sized beds with fresh sheets.
5. Lawnmowers that start on the first pull.
6. Movies in an air-conditioned theatre.
7. Saying "I love you" without a hint of a Fonzie stutter.
8. Throwing a perfect spiral with a freshly pumped-up football.
9. Writing a line that makes someone laugh out loud.
10. WiFi that doesn't require a password.

I hope y'all have a special day. Rock on.

Novak once ate a puppy in Reno. With a spoon.

We've all seen the battle initiated today in the Dems Primary Race an embarrassing number of times before. A major political campaign gets sideswiped by cowardly innuendo, in this case from a traitorous windbag some decades past his prime. The thusly engaged parties involved throw flaming balls of crap at each other. Everyone gets burned, while somebody (usually the roped-in dope, or dopette) survives to fight another battle. And the jerk-off who threw the first bomb gets to start more battles later. In campaigning, it's called the dark arts. For tax purposes, those paid to do it call it "opposition research". I call it something else - the Full Novak.

To explain - Robert Novak threw a bomb of an undefined "story" in his especially horrid column meant to tarnish Barack Obama with "scandalous" overtones that was blamed on Hillary Clinton's campaign. No one knows any of the details yet. But Obama's already come out this afternoon to say don't "Swift Boat" him and Hillary's minions are spreading loads of counterattacks and denials. We all know Novak's the ultimate dooshbag. We all expect unending scandal in the current state of electoral wrangling. Sadly. But did ya expect that a guy who was utlimately responsible for outing a CIA agent and sending Scooter Libby to jail would go this far, this soon thereafter? I can only hope that this story is nothing but bunnyfarts and we all laugh, laugh, laugh at the momentary ripple at this stage of the campaign. But hope ain't shite in politics. It's just a hick town in Arkansas.

Hope your own weekend is focused on what it should be - football. Rock on.