The sign does apply to you, too

One of my neighbors smokes … constantly. I can always tell where she just was because it reeks of smoke. She's very nice, very chatty, and very smelly.

This afternoon we are sharing the laundry room. Where there is a "no smoking" sign posted. Where my clean clothes are going to come out of the machine smelling powder fresh. So her smoking can contaminate them.

I hate doing laundry. It leaves me in a bad mood to begin with, so my judgment might be a little cloudy. That's why I'm going to hold my tongue for the sake of my reputation as a good neighbor. But I am not happy.

Hey! Bonus!

Tuesday's election is having unexpected but positive aftershocks here in the Chicagoland area. Congressmen Luis Guitierez and Jesse Jackson, Jr., have both decided not to challenge Richard M. Daley for the Democratic nomination for mayor. Washington DC is suddenly a far more attractive place for ambitious young Democrats, now that the House of Representatives is decidedly blue.

I spend at least half my life in the Loop, I have for decades, and have come to love Richard M. as much as I loathed Richard J. The City is, for the most part, cleaner and safer than ever. Architecture and culture are flourishing under this plain spoken, red faced mayor. Business isn't just concentrated in a few neighborhoods anymore. The projects have made way for scattered site housing.

Most important, there is no one, NO ONE, I want at the helm more than King Richard II. Not after 9/11. Not after Katrina. I trust Richard M. Daley with my life. And make no mistake about it, when you're in a major American city, you are trusting your life to the mayor.

The Federal government is currently conducting "The War on Terror" overseas. That means there is precious little money or oversight left for locals. I was downtown on 9/11, in Illinois Center, in the shadow of both the AON building and Sears Tower, and experienced first hand the solemnity and speed with which the City was emptied. Today, when there are rumors of terrorism, it's the Chicago Police with dogs at the el stops, Chicago Police boats patrolling the river, not the National Guard. If there was a natural disaster here in Chicago, it would be Richard Daley, not FEMA, looking out for us. And I'm 100% fine with that. Mayor Daley offered New Orleans the use of CTA buses before Katrina hit. He was refused. He understood, better than Nagin or FEMA, what it would take to evacuate a city filled with people who don't have cars.

Ok, Ok. Yes, I know. There are city payrollers who have never shown up for work and still enjoy direct deposit. Some people are in jobs that aren't qualified for because their uncle was an alderman. I realize all this. I'm not stupid.

But as long as the image of those planes hitting the Twin Towers is seared into my soul, as long as I remember the horrified faces of the displaced in the Super Dome, I'm more than willing to put up with Cook County shenanigans. Because whatever else you want to say about Daley (and I've lived here all my life so I believe I've heard it all), he loves this city. While I admit corruption has undoubtedly gone on during his tenure, he hasn't personally/financially benefited from it, and that's important to me. And he's tough and smart and quick to act, and act accordingly. The world is too perilous a place to let someone learn on the job. We need The Mayor.

Long live King Richard II!

PS I have included this photo because I think he would like it. I still hate, loathe, despise and abominate the White Sox with every fiber of my being.

She really was that good

I'm watching The Wizard of Oz. Again. And this time I am amazed by how perfect Judy was. I know … duh! But tonight I am keenly aware that this dreamy, brave and utterly sincere little girl is being played by a teenager. Teens are by their very nature cynical, sarcastic, and just plain smart-assy. There is none of that in her purely lovely performance. Dorothy is talking to a scarecrow and a tin woodsman about finding a wizard. (We have yet to meet The Lion.) She is not at all self conscious and completely credible. I wonder how, especially with her tumultuous personal life, Garland was able to do it.

Hello, I'm Old

According to the E! THS (on now), Kevin Federline has long had an incredible impact on women. The girls in his high school were in love with him, when he got to LA and was juggling a car wash job and dance gigs, Christina Aguilara had a crush on him, a working actress (Shar Jackson) willingly had babies with him, and then Britney.

EW! ICK! Look at this guy! Tattoos, cigarette breath, greasy hair, dopey hats … I so completely don't see it. And I guess I shouldn't. It's a new generation.

Showing the kids how it's done

Saw a story on one of the magazine shows about how Sir Paul McCartney handled the paparazzi this week. I believe he was in Washington, DC. He got into his car and pulled away, and to his dismay the photogs followed him. He stopped, got out of his car, smiled and waved merrily, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world. The audio revealed something else. No matter how cheery he looked, he sounded like an angry school principal. "OK," he said (more or less) to the paparazzi, "I got out of my car. You are getting your pictures. I am being nice to you. Now there's no need to follow me. There's no need to harass me." Then he got into his car and pulled away ... alone.

Better than leading them on a high speed chase or trying to swat them away. Clearly, the man who has been famous more than half his life knows how to handle the press.

Enjoying a rainy Friday night

It's cold and rainy and windy out there. Just walking home from the train I got completely soaked. Now I'm warm and I'm dry and I'm looking forward to ... a quiet, comfortable night by myself. First I'll soak in the tub for a while, slathering on a nice thick facial mask while listening to Streisand. Then I'll curl up in front of the TV. I want to watch a good old Hollywood movie, preferably in black and white. Maybe enjoy some green tea. I like nights like this. I need nights like this.

One of my more enduring heroes

How can you not love old Julius? I first became acquainted with Groucho when I was in high school. Fortunately he was still alive in those days, so in addition to all the Marx Bros. movies, I was able to see him interviewed on a couple Dick Cavett shows. He was witty and verbal and lascivious and a complete anarchist. I saw so much Grouch in Alan Alda's portrayal of Hawkeye Pierce.

Enjoy these Marxisms:

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

We took pictures of the native girls but they weren't developed. We're going back again in a couple weeks.

Military intelligence is a contradiction in terms.

Madam, I've known and respected your husband for many years. And if you're good enough for him, you're good enough for me.

A fool and his money are soon parted. But nobody can part a cheap toupee.

I wish you'd keep my hands to yourself.

Is it true that your getting a divorce as soon as your husband regains his sight?

Remember when you're out there risking life and limb against shot and shell, we'll be in here thinking what a sucker you are.

Halp us Mr. Rumzfield. In Amerika we R stoopid.

As he left his position as Secretary of Defense, Rumsfeld reminded the nation one more time about "this little understood, unfamiliar war, the first war of the 21st century -- it is not well known, it was not well understood." It is, he said, "complex for people to comprehend."

Yes, Rummy stood there with the President, with the flag as a backdrop, and called us all dumb.

This does not offend me. This is Rumsfeld. In fact, I find his overbearing arrogance even as he's losing his job almost valiant. Whatever else he was, Rumsfeld was always true to himself.

What does offend me is the way the press handled this.

Senator Kerry botched a joke and ended up saying something about the troops being uneducated -- something no thinking person believed he meant. Yet it was reported, replayed and generally beaten into the ground for several news cycles.

Rumsfeld calls all of us stupid (and clearly means it) during his last briefing and no one says a word.

So much for the press and its liberal bias.

The autumn of my discontent

I'm suffering from that free floating, completely non-specific malaise again. Nothing is really wrong. It's just that nothing is really right.

Sometimes I feel rather spoiled at times like this. Bratty. There are people in the world with visceral, insurmountable problems. And here I am, wallowing in the blues. As Holly Golightly put it, "The blues are because you're getting fat or because it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all."

Maybe it's post-election depression … or that I haven't been working out … or because my career isn't traveling down the path I expected … or that the weather is unseasonably warm and I can't believe I went Christmas shopping in a short-sleeve sweater and no coat. Just, please God, don't let it be hormones!

Farewell, Rummy

Donald Rumsfeld is really easy to demonize because he's such a stereotypical rich old white guy. He knows better than you, Missy, about this war and about the armed services and about the world. Everything in his fabulously condescending manner says, "How dare you question me?"

But he was Secretary of Defense, not our national den mother. And he was only Secretary of Defense. George W. Bush was ultimately responsible for every decision Rumsfeld made.

That made his conduct today, as he stood there beside the man he served so loyally while being unceremoniously canned, very touching. Rumsfeld is a tough old bird, stoic and classy to the end.

I know, I know. As a liberal Democrat I'm supposed to hate the old guy. And I am happy to see him go. But I will always view him with grudging admiration. On 9/11, he very bravely ran toward the the Pentagon crash site. (You can actually see the smoke from the fire in this photo.) The old fella willing walked into danger when he didn't have to in an attempt to help save lives. So even though I disagree with every aspect of how he's handled the war, I still say, "Thank you for your service, Mr. Secretary."

The politics of faith

One of the reasons I'm happy about yesterday's nationwide election results is that now, perhaps, government will go back to being more secular.

I am a Christian, and my faith infuses my beliefs and how I vote. However my Christianity does not jibe with what the Religious Right tells me my values "should" be, and I find that insulting and disturbing.

For example, stemcell research. I am for taking fertilized embryos that would otherwise be destroyed and using them to find cures for catastrophic diseases. This is completely in keeping with my faith, and with conversations I have had with clergy. I am not convinced that IVF is God's will (which is not to say I think it should be illegal or curtailed; as with abortion, I think every woman should have reproductive choice so she can follow her own conscience and her own faith). Therefore I celebrate that these embryos can be used in such a positive way.

Then there's the death penalty. I am simply against it. Regardless of the crime. In this world of plea bargains, it is not fairly assigned. It is an unfair burden to put on a juror. Taking a life does not bring back the one that was lost. As a citizen and as a Christian, I am against it. And yet the Bush Brothers, as governors of Texas and Florida, have signed many a death warrant and seem to feel that squares with their Christianity. But you see, that's my point: THEIR Christianity. Not mine.

One of Chicago's most famous crimes, the Leopold and Loeb thrill killing in the 1920s, ends with what is, for me, a wonderful example of Christian redemption. After serving decades in prison, Leopold was paroled and spent his middle and late years working with missionaries in Puerto Rico. I think that's beautiful. These dedicated Catholics accepted and forgave this Jewish murderer and let him spend his last years in the service of the Lord. This is a far better reflection of MY Christianity.

Gay rights. One of the dearest, most committed couples I know is gay. They love one another, have been together for decades, and now take tender care of one partner's 93 year old mother (and she can be quite a handful). Yet there are those who will say with absolute certainty this love is wrong. Well, my faith tells me otherwise.

And what about Muslims or Jews or agnostics or atheists. Shouldn't their government reflect their values? As Lincoln said, "of the people, by the people, for the people."

So hopefully now one group will no longer govern as though they have a hotline to Jesus. Perhaps now we will be able to search our own souls in privacy and reach our own decisions. And government will serve us and reflect us, rather than preach to us. My spiritual house is in order. I don't appreciate Washington white guys telling me how I should feel, and how I should relate to my Lord.

Today's best headline …

K-FED UP!

That's courtesy the folks at Eonline. Apparently Britney Spears and her staggeringly fertile husband just can't make a go of it.

Yes, I would say that was a "bad day"

At first the death of actress Adrienne Shelley was thought to be a suicide. But a construction worker has admitted killing her and then trying to make it appear as though she took her life.

Reports attribute the following quote to a 19 year old, illegal immigrant, "I was having a bad day. I didn't mean to kill her. But I did kill her."

According to a New York paper, Ms. Shelley complained to the construction worker about the noise he was making as he worked in the empty apartment below hers. He speaks no English, so their exchange was marked by confusion, frustration and escalating anger on both sides. He says she slapped his face, and so he punched hers, leaving her unconscious.

Believing she was dead, he dragged her upstairs and hung her from the shower rod in her bathroom. He assumed her death would be ruled a suicide and the police would not look for a murderer. Her body was found by her exhusband hours later.

Ms. Shelley was just 40 years old and the mother of a 3 year old girl.

This young man, an Ecuadoran immigrant in this country illegally, is looking at a charge of second degree murder. Even if he is found "not guilty," his life will never be the same.

What a tragic, ridiculous waste.

Another word on Adsense

This post is devoted to that little square in the upper right. The good people at Google claim that these ads are somehow tied to the content of my blog. This way, if you were interested in something I have written recently, you will naturally click on the ad. (And I, in turn, will make tons of money. Right now I believe my Adsense fortune hovers between $1 and $2.)

This seems like a mutually advantageous plan. I get a free counter and guaranteed revenue (I believe I will use my earnings in the laundry machines downstairs -- 75¢ per wash or dry).

But where the system falls apart for me is in the choice of ads. Last time I checked, my Adsense square was promoting pepper spray. I honestly cannot recall ever mentioning pepper spray or self defense in any way.

In praise of my TV Boyfriends

There's always been a character on a TV show that I really wanted to be real. Because he was so neat, because he was so likable, because I knew my life would be better with him in it. That makes these guys slightly different from crushes. I didn't necessarily fantasize about being in love with these characters. I'd be happy just to know them.

The first one, which I really don't remember but my mother reports was very serious, was Little Joe Cartwright. Bonanza was one of the first shows we saw in color, and apparently I used to cry whenever Little Joe was punched or shot.

Then there was Jeremy Bolt from Here Come the Brides. He was the youngest brother, a sensitive lad in an untamed country, and all he wanted was to get married and start a family. Oh, and he had blue eyes and a stutter. When I was in junior high, this was as good as it got.

Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce. Hawkeye from M*A*S*H. Gifted, verbal, and allergic to hypocrisy. He took all the right things seriously and mocked the rest.

David Addison. See above. Except whereas Hawkeye was an exceptional surgeon, this Moonlighting detective really wasn't that good at detecting. This flaw made him more likeable, more dear.

Will Truman of Will & Grace. Oh, I wish he was real! Smart, supportive and oh-so funny. And bonus! He could dress me!

Dr. McDreamy from Grey's Anatomy. Ok, so I want to do him. It's lust, pure and simple. You got me on this one.

Behold the Epitome of Class

My oldest friend is in the grips of Fanilow Fever. As she approaches her 50th birthday, her obsession with Barry Manilow keeps growing and growing. As her friend, I try to listen without screaming as she tells me about what a wonderful showman he is, what a terrific performer he is, the good works his Foundation (which, I suspect, is aka "tax write-off") does, how much he loves his fans, etc.

What makes this bearable is that she's going through a rough patch. As if menopause and turning 50 aren't enough, her exhusband is engaged with a wedding date set, while my friend is involved with a nice man but one she believes wouldn't notice if she was dead for three days, her grade school aged daughter has attention deficit disorder, her high school aged son is dealing with a car and a job and plummeting grades, she has money problems and no real plan for getting out of them ... If she takes refuge in sappy music made by a completely non-threatening man who reminds her of a simpler time, then what the hell. The fever will break and she'll be fine again. And it's not like I haven't put her through some changes since we became friends in 1964. Previous entries to this very blog reveal that I can travel to some pretty dark places, too, and she's there for me.

But it's the other fanilows that I've been exposed to who make my teeth hurt because they indulge in reality only infrequently. They actually think he's the greatest artist ever. No, really. They think that his cover versions of ballads are better than the originals, by such lightweights as Sinatra, Elvis and the Beatles.

They also insist Stephen Colbert hasn't been making fun of their hero since the Emmys. They don't understand Colbert and the right wing commentators he's parodying because they don't feel entertainers should use their "God given talent to foist their political beliefs on us," so they aren't regular viewers. My friend isn't, either. I keep trying to tell her she doesn't want to watch Manilow's appearance on the Colbert Report, even if she can get a tape. She tells me I must be wrong, that all the Fanilows believe he was funny and held his own. Okeedokee.

These same Fanilows maintain that Barry Manilow is "the epitome of class." Why would I question their judgement? Not only does he perform old Bobby Vinton songs while wearing a velour (or is it velvet) jacket, his website is also the Tiffany's of memorabilia. In addition to the bobblehead shown, there are Manilow nightshirts and jockey shorts. No, really. And this stuff is pretty pricey, considering it's akin to what you would expect to pick up at the Wisconsin Dells.

To help you with your Christmas shopping: http://www.starz.bz/barrymanilow/index.cfm

I saw a film today, oh boy

Went to the movies today for the first time in ages and saw The Queen. Dame Helen Mirren was sublime. Between her performance and the script, you go from head-shaking disdain to empathy for this woman, Elizabeth, who is stuck with a formidable job to do … a job she never wanted.

I found myself just waiting for the moments when the real news footage of Diana appeared. She certainly knew how to command our attention! And the actor who played Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) was wonderful, too. I'm sorry that the real deal -- the actual Prime Minister -- has fallen out of favor in large part because he supported the United States' foreign policy.

I wish I had a smooth transition for this, but I don't. Peter O'Toole has a new movie coming out (Venus) and the trailer refers to him as "the best actor of his generation." No offense to Mr. O'Toole, but I believe that right about now, he's the ONLY actor of his generation. Richard Burton/dead. Richard Harris/dead. I mean, who else is left? OK, Albert Finney.

Orlando vs. Kit ... guess who wins

Last night we celebrated my niece's 14th birthday. That girl has always been my heart. But, no doubt about it, she's growing up. I'm proud of who she is becoming, but I miss who she was.

Whereas once she loved all things American Girl, especially Kit, now she loves all things Orlando Bloom. Crayons and dress up outfits have been replaced by CDs and DVDs. While she hasn't begun worrying about her skin yet, she did add a lot of haircare product to her birthday wish list.

Some things remain the same though. As Birthday Girl, she chose the restaurant where we dined. It was Old Country Buffet. She prepared for the ice cream and cake awaiting her at home with pie ala mode.

A proud moment for all of us

I am so proud to be an American and part of the world community. Saddam Hussein stood trial in televised proceedings and was found guilty. That ugly chapter of Iraqi and world history is now behind us, thanks not to assassination but to the rule of law.

Naturally as a Christian I cannot be joyful about the phrase, "death by hanging." (Especially not on a Sunday!) But this morning I choose to concentrate on the positive aspects. Genocide was punished. Justice was served. And it was all done with civility.

Make that SIXTEEN Gold Gloves

Guess who won the award that means he's the best fielding pitcher in the league. Why, Greg Maddux, of course. This year's is even sweeter because (don't think I enjoy saying this) he played more than half the season with a less than stellar (OK, crappy) Cub team.

Maddux's agent and the Dodgers' GM meet next week. I hope they can come to an agreement on a nice little two-year contract, and I hope they do it fast. I'll feel better when my favorite future Hall of Famer has a roster spot somewhere.

"So up on your feet! Somewhere there's music playing."

Barbara mooning over Cliff ... Bob obsessed with both Barbara and his tuba ... flat-chested Julie complaining about her archrival, Trish the Dish ... Ann making sure everyone at her office calls her "Ms. Romano" ...

Yes, I've discovered the One Day at a Time reruns on OnDemand. I don't know why, but I loved this show.

It's not particularly well written, nor well acted. Everyone yells. But I love revisiting the 1970s hair and fashion. And I seem to recall watching it while I was babysitting and fantasizing about an apartment like theirs, all those little nooks and crannies.

Ladies Rock!

I swear. A lot. I was amused by the fuss about Streisand "dropping the f bomb," because I don't think I've gone a day without doing the same, and before 10:00 AM. For example, as a Cub fan, I believe that the personification of evil is F-ing Steve Bartmann. I've said it that way so many times that I think I subconsciously believe F-ing is his given name.

I love greasy spoons. I am happiest in restaurants where the menu is laminated and where the waitress leaves you a bowl of peanuts while you decide whether you want a burger or a cheeseburger with that beer. I would rather remove my own spleen with a butter knife than eat sushi or drink wine.

I have a very vulgar, perhaps even infantile, sense of humor. My gay friends still very patiently sit through my Brokeback Mountain jokes because even after a year, few things crack me up more than gay cowboys.

And yet, and yet, these are the women I grew up on. These are the women I still admire.

But please don't tell anyone. I have a trashy image to maintain.

"It's always easy to manipulate people's feelings"

That was Laura Bush on C-Span, talking about Michael J. Fox, Parkinson's disease and stemcell research.

But look at this heartbreaking photo and you'll see that the First Lady sure knows what she's talking about. Her husband is a pro at this. These guys probably enlisted to fight terrorism because this President asked them to. Now they are poking fun at a decorated war hero because this President is exploiting a bad joke for political capital. (Even Andy Card has said he doesn't think President Bush honestly thought Senator Kerry was attacking the troops.)

Gentlemen, John Kerry believes that "protest is patriotic." So knock yourselves out. He supports you, even when you don't support him. When you come home and find that your veteran's benefits have been slashed so that the wealthy can enjoy tax cuts, know that he will be one of the lawmakers on your side. After all he has been fighting for veterans for decades. (Remember Agent Orange?) When at night, alone with your thoughts and distant gunfire, and you wonder why you are fighting harder for the Iraqis than the Iraqis are, know that John Kerry wants to bring you home. Gentlemen, he supports you because he WAS you. Like you, he volunteered during a time of war when his country called. His father was a diplomat, his mother's maiden name was Forbes ... he certainly could have pulled strings to avoid service, to put his Yale degree to use like this President did in the long ago 1960s but no, he joined the Navy instead.

A very wise coworker once gave me this advice when it came to navigating office politics: "Don't listen to what they say, watch what they do."

The advice applies to many situations outside the workplace, too.

And, by the way, while I am disenchanted with this war, I remain in awe of everyone who puts on a uniform and puts themselves in harm's way on my behalf. So, Gentleman, thank you. Sincerely.

http://thinkprogress.org/2006/10/31/laura-bush-michael-j-fox/

I'm fixating again

I have a strip of dry skin between my shoulder blades, right where I cannot reach it, and it is, quite literally, making me nuts. If I'm awake, I'm thinking about it.

It's caused by a combination of factors. Take it away, Mayo Clinic:

• Weather. In general, your skin is driest in winter when temperatures and humidity levels plummet. Winter conditions also tend to make existing skin conditions worse.
• Central heating. It's a dermatological disaster. Central heating draws moisture out of the air and out of your skin.
• Too much 'cleanliness is next to godliness.' When it comes to your skin, water is a double-edged sword. Inside your skin, it keeps the cells plump and moist, but it has the opposite effect when you're immersed in it. Frequent showering or bathing, especially if you like your showers hot and your baths long, breaks down the lipid barriers in your skin.

This illustration really has nothing to do with my dry skin -- which I am treating with a spray-on moisturizer, plus I've got a pair of humidifiers running right now and I'm trying to resist rubbing my back against the wall. But I've included it because I find skin fascinating. I mean, look at all that's going on under the surface! Isn't that neat?

Lurkers

One of the terrific benefits to Adsense (that little ad you see at the top right) is the free site meter it provides in exchange for that corner of my blog. This site has also become quite the moneymaker for me (Adsense has earned me a full 65¢ since May). Anyway, courtesy of Adsense I know that I average 13 hits a day, with as many as 40 on individual days.

I mention this for two reasons:
1) Ms. Hickory, if you want a similar counter that only you can see, go to google.com/adsense.

2) I suddenly became very nervous that someone who knows me in real life could be among the lurking 40. My village is on here, my cats' real names are listed, etc., so it wouldn't be hard to figure out that I am indeed ... me. Since I've been rather frank about feelings re: my family and coworkers, I thought it best to start referring to myself as "One Gal." There's something cathartic about keeping this electronic journal, and I am not at all sure it would do anyone any good if I wasn't able to be honest. On the other hand, I have no wish to hurt or embarrass anyone else.

Sky blue

Or white with clouds or gray or dotted with stars. Doesn't matter. I always love looking at the sky.

I also love watching my cats sleep. Especially Joey, my massive ol' gray and white tom. He sleeps so soundly, on his back, tummy exposed, legs splayed. He even looks like he has a smile on his face. His posture, his kitty body language, as he sleeps is so intensely relaxed yet trusting. It warms my heart.

We have a new oldies station here in the Chicagoland area. 94.7 FM. I can turn it on at any time, and hear a song that takes me back and makes me smile. Like "Rainy Night in Georgia" by Brook Benton.

I mention these things because my best friend has hit a bad patch. He's dissatisfied by everything and can't articulate why. I know how he feels. I've been there! I just hope he finds his equivalent of sky blue, or gazing at Joe or rediscovering a forgotten oldie. These tiny, daily miracles don't solve anything. But they do manage to make life bearable while we're on the way to solving things.

Welcome to the Big Leagues, Mr. Hobbs

Barack Obama's honeymoon with the local press is over. The Chicago Tribune has reported on Obama's relationship with Tony Rezko, the recently indicted Democratic fundraiser. Next door neighbors, long-time friends, and partners in a real estate deal, Tony Rezko is more than a casual Obama acquaintance. Rezko also doesn't represent the caliber of person voters want to see their new hero linked with.

I have no idea how this will play nationally. Or even if it will get any play at all, this close to the mid-term. But I know that as Obama's profile grows, the scrutiny of every area of his life will increase. This story is only the beginning.

And now for the real news

Sing it with me, please: "Anna Anna Anna Anna Anna Ni-cole!"

Uh-oh. Things are not going well for our Kentucky fried centerfold. The guy who owns the Bahamian mansion she's been hiding out in wants to evict her because she's not making agreed upon payments. This gentleman was involved with her romantically, but hastens to add that he's not the father of her new baby.

She's been hospitalized for pneumonia.

Her oldest child was recently buried in the Bahamas, much to the chagrin of Anna Nicole's own mother.

And, as I understand it, a judge will soon rule about whether Anna's new baby will have a DNA test to establish paternity.

Remember when her life was a goofy cable reality show? Now it's become a tawdry and tragic soap opera.

Legality aside, I'm beginning to feel about her the way I feel about Michael Jackson. The life I'm reading about bears so little resemblance to any life I can imagine that it's as though I'm studying a life form from another planet.

Willful ignorance & exploitation

I do not believe for a moment that anyone seriously thinks Senator Kerry meant to insult the troops. The full transcript of his remarks have been available in print and on the Internet from objective news sources and Chris Matthews even read them on MSNBC. Plus, it makes no sense for a man who, upon graduating from Yale enlisted in the Navy during wartime, to make such a remark. It makes less sense for a decorated war hero who has devoted much of his adult life to helping veterans to say such a thing. The people who insist they believe it just want to be angry, I guess.

I'm angry, too, of course, but I am not enjoying it. I am upset that a man I admire so made such a ridiculous blunder. It was unprofessional, unstatesmanlike and simply wrong for him to cast aspersions on the President's intelligence because it doesn't move the conversation along. We are in a mess in Iraq, and making a personal attack on the President's education or IQ doesn't help. (Plus he cannot tell a joke to save his life.)

It bothers me more, though, that the President (who spent Viet Nam protecting Alabama as a member of the reserves) and Dick Cheyney (who supported the Viet Nam war but couldn't be bothered to serve) are so cynically keeping this non-story alive, slagging a man who faced enemy fire in the jungle when they were "too busy." It deflects from the callous lies they have told us about our reasons for this war and their exploitation of 9/11, I guess. Oh, and as the niece and goddaughter of someone suffering from Parkinson's, I can't help but notice that no one seems to care about the insensitive remarks made by The First Lady about Michael J. Fox and stem cell research.

JFK once said that as a people, Americans often confuse civility with weakness. How right he was! How refreshing it would be if our politicians would behave like statesmen and have a real debate about Iraq, how we got into it and why, and even more important, what the end game looks like. And, while we're at it, I'd like to see a serious discussion of homeland security and what the hell went wrong in New Orleans.

There's no political hay to be made by that, though. Better for our President and Vice President to keep harping on a silly, bad and highly ill advised joke that the Senator already apologized for. What a lovely civics lesson for our young!

I wish, at times like this, that I wasn't such a true believer. I have always thought that in times of trouble, we get the leadership we deserve. Yes, I'm a Democrat, but my throat closes up when I think of how Gerald Ford helped heal us after Watergate. That's why I keep expecting this Administration to act as though they deserve our trust. And that's why I keep feeling my heart break like this, again and again.

I want resolution ... NOW!

Future Hall of Famer (and one of my perennial great loves) Greg Maddux filed for free agency. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

Option 1: He's not sure if he will be back in 2007, and hopes that seeing what his talents are worth on the open market will help him decide.

Option 2: His agent is already talking to the Dodgers and this is a bargaining ploy.

Option 3: Talks have broken down/broken off with the Dodgers and he's shopping for a new team.

Option 4: He's telegraphing to the Cubs that he wishes to return to me ... er, um, I mean CHICAGO.

I can somehow cope with any scenario that doesn't include his retirement. (I'm simply not ready to let him go yet.) I just wish this chapter would come to a close quickly. Under the best circumstances, immediate gratification takes too long for me. Waiting around for this to work out will be TORTURE!

I get it, but Senator, what were you thinking?

Senator Kerry is a terrific statesman but an exasperating candidate. When I worked on his campaign, I was amazed by how disciplined John Edwards -- who has far fewer years under his belt as a public figure -- was when it came to staying on message. And how quick Senator Kerry was to depart from his prepared remarks and just riff. As we saw yesterday, the results are sometimes heart-stoppingly bad.

Of course he meant that if you don't stay in school and learn about the world, you'll pull a dumb ass stunt like getting your country enmeshed in a no-win war in Iraq. It's not only evident from the remarks he made immediately before that clip that we have all heard, it's also evident from the way the man has lived his life. We're talking here, after all, about a Yale graduate who enlisted in the Navy and went to Viet Nam. Who worked to get the health dangers of Agent Orange recognized and treated. Who has battled to make sure the soldiers in Iraq get their body armor. No one familiar with the Senator could believe he meant otherwise. (That includes the Republicans who slandered and "swift boated" him. But that's who those people are. Being surprised by how far they will go to win is like being surprised when a puppy digs in the yard.)

The real shame of all this, of course, is that two news cycles are spent discussing Senator Kerry and not the issues at hand.

I find it ironic that George W. Bush is the one leading the demands for an apology. He should be sending the Senator a big "thank you" for that Halloween treat yesterday, for it deflected attention from what our First Lady said in an interview on C-Span regarding Michael J. Fox: "It's always easy to manipulate people's feelings." Gee, it's bad for Alex Keaton to do it regarding a disease he has, but OK for your husband to do it regarding 9/11?

As for Senator Kerry, I wish I could just remind him to STICK TO HIS NOTES. He's not funny. Not that stand-up comic should be a prerequisite for a President, but we live in television age and he must learn to adapt to it. Though something tells me his aides have said this very thing to him more than once since yesterday.

http://thinkprogress.org/2006/10/31/laura-bush-michael-j-fox/

Oh, I must, must I?

Madonna is on the Today Show right now, talking about how she didn't expect to be "demonized" regarding her adoption of an African baby. Oh, look! She's all teary-eyed as she talks about young David's medical condition.

Whatever.

She's done bisexual chic. She's done her SEX book. She's tried Broadway. She's tried movies. She's been an angry ex-Catholic and a follower of Kaballah. She's been a cone-wearing strumpet and a Burberry-clad children's book author. Now she's Mia Farrow-cum-Angelina Jolie. I simply cannot take her seriously. I never have.

She just told Meredith Vieria that people like me "must" take her seriously.

Sorry, no.

She's not an artist. She has no unique voice or compelling POV. She's a marketer. I work in advertising, so I grant her my grudging admiration for her gift for getting ahead of trends and reinventing herself. But that makes her as artistically valid as a light beer. In terms of her musical "product" and her public persona, I find her annoying and frivolous. She may be wealthy and successful, but (yawn) she's not powerful enough to make this old broad take her seriously.

The Audacity of the L&O Franchise

A beautiful child actress is murdered in her basement on Halloween night. A pedophile in Viet Nam emails a crime author with details about the killing, and 14 years later, he is arrested for the girl's murder. NYPD travel to the Far East to bring him into custody. They fly him back First Class, plying him with champagne en route, hoping to loosen his tongue. Cable news anchors -- particularly a bottle blonde with a regional accent -- are aghast at the preferential treatment the creepozoid gets.

Sound familiar? It's tonight's epiosde of Law & Order: Criminal Intent. Clearly it has nothing whatsoever to do with JonBenet Ramsey and Jon Mark Karr because she was murdered in a basement on Christmas, and the pedophile who emailed details about the crime to an author was apprehended in Thailand. She was a beauty queen while this little girl was an actress. These cops are from New York, those cops were from Boulder. See? Very different.

I just saw a commercial for this Friday's episode of Law & Order, the original. A celebrity goes on a tirade about Jews and how Jews are out to get him. Another episode, "ripped from today's headlines."

Perhaps all this should offend me, but it doesn't. Instead I'm amazed by the sheer nerve of Dick Wolf and Co. Aren't they worried about libel? Or do they have a team of lawyers who know exactly where the line is, and just how much they have to change to avoid crossing it?

Greetings from the Midwest

Maybe it's because of Halloween. Maybe it's the studious John Callaway series on Leopold and Loeb on PBS. Maybe it's because when you can't sleep, it's just natural to think about things that go bump in the night.

But it occurs to me that Chicago has had more than our share of horrific characters, monsters in losers' clothing. Leopold and Loeb were our first "crime of the century," self-anointed geniuses who "thrill killed" a child to see if they could get away with it. And even with antiquated forensics, they were caught right away. (What a pair of depraved dumb asses.) Then Richard Speck, the bogeyman of my girlhood, who killed 8 student nurses in their home. Pockmarked and chainsmoking, even with his cuffs on, he looked like the perfect villain. As an adult, I look at him with horrified contempt. He was a failure at everything he did, except mass murder. And most recently, the Killer Clown, John Gacy. A predator who understood that many parents were ashamed of their gay sons, and therefore didn't go looking for them, Gacy gave these poor boys a home -- in his crawlspace.

I love Chicago. It's the most beautiful, most alive, most livable city I've ever seen. But we have a darkside that's as inky black as it can get. (I didn't even mention Al Capone and that unfortunate Valentine's Day incident in the garage.)

One of us has changed

It must be me, because poor young Regan is frozen in 1973. But no matter how you look at it, things aren't the same between us.

When I first saw The Exorcist, I had already read the book, knew what to expect, and yet it still scared the crap out of me. But this evening, when I happened upon it on AMC, it was just ... well ... funny.

And it was The Big Scene that I saw tonight, too. Father Damien asks our girl Regan/Satan to prove she's all that by coming out with his mother's maiden name. Regan responded with a steady stream of green vomit. Yes, I tuned in just in time for The Pea Soup Scene. Somehow, this time around, it was just goofy. The next scene -- Mom folding Father Damien's freshly laundered tunic -- was kind of a hoot, too.