Happy Deuce Double-Naught Ocho, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

I finally found out what the New Year song “Auld Lang Syne” means. It’s old Scottish for “Oh no you di’’nt.”


Rightly good readerers
Stockton, CA ranks last in a study of literacy in U.S. cities; when asked to comment, one Stockton resident said; “We may be last in literacy, but we are bestest in readeracy.”


Strike out
The writer strike continues to effect the late night talk shows. Which leads to the philosophical question, if Paris Hilton goes down in the woods and nobody jokes about it, did it really happen?


Mon dieu
*French President Nicolas Sarkozy has been seen cavorting with model/singer Carla Bruni so much you wonder how Sarkozy finds time to lead his country to be the hard-working and productive super power that it, hah, hah, oh, darn, I thought could I make it without laughing.


You punks stop doing that
You know what the kids are calling 2008? 2K8. Not to sound like a grumpy old guy, but apparently text messaging is doing for literacy about what Madonna did for acting.


Since you asked:
Welcome back as many of our readers use this blog to bludgeon time at work and we couldn’t be any prouder.

Had a great last day of the year and first day of the New Year. In 48 hours I, in order, paddleboard surfed, harmonica shopped, ate a great steak sandwich washed down with a tasty margarita, took a 20 minute nap, went to cocktail party, played harmonica with my band at a fun New Year’s party, sang my first lead song (Rolling Stones “Love is Strong”) rang in the New Year, got up early, wrote a mean-spirited joke about the French,* worked out at the gym – along with everyone else – played nine holes of golf with a great group, my wife, her father, i.e., my father-in-law and my buddy Mark O'Snake, watched DVR recorded *bowl games, grilled shrimp and cedar plank salmon and then played poker with four really good poker players, me, our good friend, Stacy, Virg and her folks. OK, maybe I wasn't so good as I won a total of one hand.

Knock on wood, hope we all have a great 2008.

(No, really, knock three times on some wood)

P.S. You wonder why most of California hates USC?

Yesterday, while preparing to marinate my salmon in 50-50 maple syrup and soy sauce, I run out of soy sauce, so I ran over to our could-not-be-any-nicer neighbors to borrow some soy sauce.

There, on the couch watching the Rose Bowl game is our good friend and neighbor, Mike, with a guest. The guest is big, red-faced older Dick-Cheney-look-alike dude, sitting arms folded across his chest and wearing - in the house, mind you - a bright red USC hat They are obviously watching the Rose Bowl which, by then, was into the fourth quarter. (The USC hat should have been a clue as to what happened next)

Before I even enter the living room I, in a light-hearted but could-not-have-been-more-sincere way, cover the side of my face to cut off any peripheral vision with a frozen salute, and announce;

"Please, please, please do not tell me the score. I am recording it and I will watch it before dinner."

Pretty clear, right? In the first five seconds of entering the house and even before being introduced to this guy, I let it be known that I don't want to know the score in any shape, form or fashion, right?

What does the human penis in the USC hat say?

"You really don't want to know the score if you're an Illinois fan."

That, Slats and Nugglies, is why the rest of California hates USC with a deep and abiding passion.

(Sorry, John S. and the scant few other Trojan fans/friends, like our neighbor, Mike and his son, Ross, who are the exceptions who prove the rule)

But those other frickin' Trorats . . .