No offense to any Texans who might be reading, but you guys have got some real winners down there. First you sic both the Bush boys on us, and now you've got David Dewhurst creating a political stir.

Seems Mr. Dewhurst wanted to hammer home the message that he's a blue-blooded patriot, which should be reason enough to elect him to the office of lieutenant governor as well as keep people's confidence in him as newly-appointed Head of Homeland Security, so he took a four-page ad in Texas Monthly telling everyone what a great American he is. Apparently, his graphic designer wasn't too convinced of this, as one of the four pages of the spread showed a picture of a man in uniform standing in front of an American flag. Too bad the man was wearing the uniform of the Luftwaffe -- the German Air Force.

No one on Dewhurst's campaign caught it, but the local papers all did. The Dallas Morning News ran a story on it featuring a quote from a campaign aide, who said the graphics designer "has been dealt with appropriately." Can we say "sacked"? Can we say "will never work on a political campaign ad again"? I knew we could...

As if I weren't baring all for you to find out my innermost secrets anyways... this one is blatantly pilfered from Erin:

Living arrangement?
Sharing a way-too-expensive 2BDR with an Iowa transplant.
What book are you reading now?
Just finished The Hammer of Eden by Ken Follett. It was a loan from a friend. It wasn't very good. But I have this problem that once I start a book or a movie, unless it's really bad, I have to find out how everything works out in the end.
What's on your mousepad?
A picture of me & my dad, taken at a family friend's house at Thanksgiving about 5 or 6 years ago.
Favorite board game?
Stratego. Man, I really miss that game. I still remember my foolproof strategy to win. And no, I'm not sharing it. You never know when I might show up at your place with a Stratego board.
Favorite magazine?
Tossup. I like Maxim for its fun outlook and bugger-all attitude, but I really like Esquire's classy style and their articles are top drawer.
Favorite smells?
A good barbeque restaurant. Fresh clean air on a spring day, most likely after it's rained the night before. Bakeries. New car smell. (And by the way -- new car smell in a can does not smell like new car smell. It smells like marzipan, which is a great smell, but is distinctly different.)
Favorite sound?
A great song. The ocean waves crashing in. The stillness of nighttime in a rural area.
Worst feeling in the world?
Guilt.
First thing you think when you wake up?
Thought processes don't begin until at least 15 minutes after I've gotten out of bed. Next question.
Favorite color?
Blue.
How many rings before you answer the phone?
Enough to bring up the caller ID.
Future child's name?
Something cool. I've always liked the name Quinn, and it can be used for both sexes. We'll see though.
Most important thing in life?
One thing.
Favorite foods?
Just about anything that's really bad for me.
Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate.
Do you like to drive fast?
Hell yeah.
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
No, Curious George sits on a speaker that's propped up on my dresser. I've had him since I was 1. He's old enough to drink.
Storms: cool or scary?
Cool. Just as long as I'm not caught outside in the downpour.
First car?
1986 Toyota Camry. Maroon. I put 17,000 miles on that car the first year I had her.
If you could meet someone dead or alive...?
Einstein. Or maybe Jesus.
Favorite alcoholic beverage?
Depends on what I'm in the mood for. If it's beer, it's usually Miller Lite. If it's liquor, I'll usually go for the gusto with a Long Island Iced Tea.
What's your zodiac sign?
I'm technically a Sagittarius since Sag ends on December 21 and that's my birthday, but I'm right on the cusp with Capricorn. I fit more of the Sag traits though. I'm definitely fiery.
Do you eat broccoli stems?
I avoid broccoli like the plague. I can't stand it.
If you could have any job you want, what would it be?
Either afternoon drive or nighttime DJ at a really big alternative station. Maybe KROQ in L.A. or The End in Seattle.
If you could dye your hair any color?
I wouldn't want to. I tried it once, and since my hair is so jet black anyways, you couldn't see it at all unless I was standing directly under a light and you were looking down on me.
Ever been in love?
Yes.
Is the glass half empty or hall full?
Depends on what's in it. If it tastes good, it might be all empty after I chug it.
Favorite movie?
Too many to pick from. Next.
Do you type with your fingers on the right keys?
Yup. Good ol' Typing Tutor IV for the Apple II taught me typing.
What's under your bed?
At the moment, a rabbit. Also most of my audio tapes, a fair amount of wires & cables, and the original internal CD-ROM drive from my computer.
What's your favorite number?
88.
What's your favorite sport to watch?
Basketball, I guess, since it moves pretty fast. Baseball & football are usually pretty slow, and I've got a fairly short attention span.

As if I weren't baring all for you to find out my innermost secrets anyways... this one is blatantly pilfered from Erin:

Living arrangement?
Sharing a way-too-expensive 2BDR with an Iowa transplant.
What book are you reading now?
Just finished The Hammer of Eden by Ken Follett. It was a loan from a friend. It wasn't very good. But I have this problem that once I start a book or a movie, unless it's really bad, I have to find out how everything works out in the end.
What's on your mousepad?
A picture of me & my dad, taken at a family friend's house at Thanksgiving about 5 or 6 years ago.
Favorite board game?
Stratego. Man, I really miss that game. I still remember my foolproof strategy to win. And no, I'm not sharing it. You never know when I might show up at your place with a Stratego board.
Favorite magazine?
Tossup. I like Maxim for its fun outlook and bugger-all attitude, but I really like Esquire's classy style and their articles are top drawer.
Favorite smells?
A good barbeque restaurant. Fresh clean air on a spring day, most likely after it's rained the night before. Bakeries. New car smell. (And by the way -- new car smell in a can does not smell like new car smell. It smells like marzipan, which is a great smell, but is distinctly different.)
Favorite sound?
A great song. The ocean waves crashing in. The stillness of nighttime in a rural area.
Worst feeling in the world?
Guilt.
First thing you think when you wake up?
Thought processes don't begin until at least 15 minutes after I've gotten out of bed. Next question.
Favorite color?
Blue.
How many rings before you answer the phone?
Enough to bring up the caller ID.
Future child's name?
Something cool. I've always liked the name Quinn, and it can be used for both sexes. We'll see though.
Most important thing in life?
One thing.
Favorite foods?
Just about anything that's really bad for me.
Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate.
Do you like to drive fast?
Hell yeah.
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
No, Curious George sits on a speaker that's propped up on my dresser. I've had him since I was 1. He's old enough to drink.
Storms: cool or scary?
Cool. Just as long as I'm not caught outside in the downpour.
First car?
1986 Toyota Camry. Maroon. I put 17,000 miles on that car the first year I had her.
If you could meet someone dead or alive...?
Einstein. Or maybe Jesus.
Favorite alcoholic beverage?
Depends on what I'm in the mood for. If it's beer, it's usually Miller Lite. If it's liquor, I'll usually go for the gusto with a Long Island Iced Tea.
What's your zodiac sign?
I'm technically a Sagittarius since Sag ends on December 21 and that's my birthday, but I'm right on the cusp with Capricorn. I fit more of the Sag traits though. I'm definitely fiery.
Do you eat broccoli stems?
I avoid broccoli like the plague. I can't stand it.
If you could have any job you want, what would it be?
Either afternoon drive or nighttime DJ at a really big alternative station. Maybe KROQ in L.A. or The End in Seattle.
If you could dye your hair any color?
I wouldn't want to. I tried it once, and since my hair is so jet black anyways, you couldn't see it at all unless I was standing directly under a light and you were looking down on me.
Ever been in love?
Yes.
Is the glass half empty or hall full?
Depends on what's in it. If it tastes good, it might be all empty after I chug it.
Favorite movie?
Too many to pick from. Next.
Do you type with your fingers on the right keys?
Yup. Good ol' Typing Tutor IV for the Apple II taught me typing.
What's under your bed?
At the moment, a rabbit. Also most of my audio tapes, a fair amount of wires & cables, and the original internal CD-ROM drive from my computer.
What's your favorite number?
88.
What's your favorite sport to watch?
Basketball, I guess, since it moves pretty fast. Baseball & football are usually pretty slow, and I've got a fairly short attention span.

My dad's always tried to expose me to cultural influences, most of which he'll drag me into kicking & screaming but will thank him for afterwards. It helps to impress your bosses when they make obscure references to '50s or '60s movies and you understand it, or vice versa. It also helps when you're watching Zoolander and the film spoofs a scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey and it turns out you're the only person in the entire packed theatre who's seen it because you're the only one laughing hysterically.

Part of my "education" included several trips to various museums in New York. One bright morning, Dad & I hopped a train to New York and set off for the Museum of Modern Art. Now, I've never really been an art fan. Paintings & pictures, they're nice to look at if they're done by friends or they're of things you know and can relate to. But that's about the depth that I can get into them. And as far as "modern" art goes... well, I never really understood the rationale behind that. So a whole afternoon looking at paintings at the MoMA didn't exactly excite me. But I went anyways, if only to appease my father.

So we're standing there in the MoMA looking at a painting done by the esteemed modern artist Jackson Pollock. It's a long rectangular canvas, about 2 feet tall and 4 or 5 feet wide. It's a white canvas with a large red stripe down the middle of it, but the stripe is a little messy and there's blobs of paint around it. It's worth $4 million.

I remember standing in front of this monstrosity, wondering who in hell would pay more than $10 for it and why it was hanging in a museum. I looked at it again and thought it looked like Pollock dipped a 3 year old in red paint and allowed the kid to crawl across the canvas. And I don't know what was more mortifying for my father, the fact that I said this out loud and then asked "why in God's name is this worth $4 million?" or the fact that other museum patrons heard me say it, then came over to my dad to tell him what a smart kid he had.

My dad's always tried to expose me to cultural influences, most of which he'll drag me into kicking & screaming but will thank him for afterwards. It helps to impress your bosses when they make obscure references to '50s or '60s movies and you understand it, or vice versa. It also helps when you're watching Zoolander and the film spoofs a scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey and it turns out you're the only person in the entire packed theatre who's seen it because you're the only one laughing hysterically.

Part of my "education" included several trips to various museums in New York. One bright morning, Dad & I hopped a train to New York and set off for the Museum of Modern Art. Now, I've never really been an art fan. Paintings & pictures, they're nice to look at if they're done by friends or they're of things you know and can relate to. But that's about the depth that I can get into them. And as far as "modern" art goes... well, I never really understood the rationale behind that. So a whole afternoon looking at paintings at the MoMA didn't exactly excite me. But I went anyways, if only to appease my father.

So we're standing there in the MoMA looking at a painting done by the esteemed modern artist Jackson Pollock. It's a long rectangular canvas, about 2 feet tall and 4 or 5 feet wide. It's a white canvas with a large red stripe down the middle of it, but the stripe is a little messy and there's blobs of paint around it. It's worth $4 million.

I remember standing in front of this monstrosity, wondering who in hell would pay more than $10 for it and why it was hanging in a museum. I looked at it again and thought it looked like Pollock dipped a 3 year old in red paint and allowed the kid to crawl across the canvas. And I don't know what was more mortifying for my father, the fact that I said this out loud and then asked "why in God's name is this worth $4 million?" or the fact that other museum patrons heard me say it, then came over to my dad to tell him what a smart kid he had.

As if we couldn't live our lives online enough online, now we have Online BubbleWrap Popping. All of the fun, none of the mess. What's next, virtual nose-picking?

As if we couldn't live our lives online enough online, now we have Online BubbleWrap Popping. All of the fun, none of the mess. What's next, virtual nose-picking?

No, not this roommate. This roommate is actually cool as far as roommates go, despite his performance over the last few days. And I'm not even sure if that would qualify as "being a bad roommate," it's probably just me and my recently-developed short fuse.

The roommates that we lived with at our last apartment definitely are among the worst people that I could've lived with. The sad thing is that I lived with them for 2 years in college as well and yet I still moved in with them post-graduation. The tales that follow are true.

1. One afternoon, I came home from work and noticed an odd smell in the apartment. I sniffed it out until it led me to the kitchen. Seems that one of the two Moron Twins (the other two guys we lived with) had boiled water on the stove to make instant coffee that morning, then the flame on the gas jet had been burned out while the gas was still on. The apartment had slowly been filling with gas all day. Thankfully, since the Moron Twins also smoked, I was the first one home and shut off the gas while airing out the apartment, so the whole place didn't blow up like a Ford Pinto.

2. The Moron Twins never did their dishes, and often left dirty dishes, pots and pans filling the sink and then all over the counter. One day, while I was in the kitchen, I noticed fruit flies flying around the dirty dishes and commented on how they really ought to do their dishes because they were attracting insects. The response from them was (and I didn't have the patience to make this up): "No, it's not the dishes... it's the sugar jar." Mind you, the sugar jar was sitting 2 feet away from the dishes over which the flies were hovering and was also tightly sealed. When I said as such, they kept insisting that it wasn't the dishes. To this day, I still doubt that fruit flies have the strength to lift up the metal clasp sealing the container shut, or that they'd suddenly developed the ability to eat through rubber.

3. They never cleaned and never picked up after themselves, plus they often used dishes as ashtrays. There were always empty food wrappers and bags and pizza boxes always strewn across the apartment because they never cooked, they always ordered in and just left their garbage around. In a moment I'd rather forget, I once took a glass out of the cupboard, filled it with pink grapefruit juice and drained half of it before I noticed the rather large blob of ashes stuck to the bottom of the glass that they hadn't cleaned out. Suffice to say that after seeing it, my stomach wasn't churning due to the sudden addition of the citrus acid in the pink grapefruit juice to my digestive system.

4. They used the living room as storage space, so there were always boxes piled up in the corners and behind the couch. One of them was an aspiring moviemaker (one of his proudest accomplishments was called "Cheesewagon Rangers to the Stars II") who accidentally burned down an empty factory building in Maine during a "shoot" and filled two closets with all of his "props." When I asked him if he needed all of it so that I might be able to use some of the apartment's limited closet space, he said "actually, no, I only need about 5 percent of it, but I'm not quite sure which 5 percent so I have to keep it all."

5. The roommate who lived in the bedroom next to mine started dating a rather annoying girl about 9 months before our lease was up. They enjoyed having screaming-loud sex at 3AM, then playing the cartoon "Cow & Chicken" at high volume at 6AM. Odd things occurred, like her leaving the room as soon as I walked in, then getting lectured by my roommate as to how rude I was being towards his girlfriend. One night after an argument about the rent money, I came home to find a condom wrapped around my doorknob. I apparently wasn't practicing safe door-opening.

6. I took over rent-paying responsibilities after the Moron Twins had both handled it at some point, since both of them had bounced the rent check to our building management company enough times that management told us we had to pay using certified bank checks. Even while I was paying the rent, they both wrote me checks at some point that bounced in my account. This coming from guys who went out shopping every weekend for clothes that they could wear out to go bar-hopping and then buy marijuana, who were both making twice as much as I was at some point, yet kept complaining they didn't have money.

So the next time I start complaining about my current roommate, please administer a swift boot to my head, eh? Much obliged.

No, not this roommate. This roommate is actually cool as far as roommates go, despite his performance over the last few days. And I'm not even sure if that would qualify as "being a bad roommate," it's probably just me and my recently-developed short fuse.

The roommates that we lived with at our last apartment definitely are among the worst people that I could've lived with. The sad thing is that I lived with them for 2 years in college as well and yet I still moved in with them post-graduation. The tales that follow are true.

1. One afternoon, I came home from work and noticed an odd smell in the apartment. I sniffed it out until it led me to the kitchen. Seems that one of the two Moron Twins (the other two guys we lived with) had boiled water on the stove to make instant coffee that morning, then the flame on the gas jet had been burned out while the gas was still on. The apartment had slowly been filling with gas all day. Thankfully, since the Moron Twins also smoked, I was the first one home and shut off the gas while airing out the apartment, so the whole place didn't blow up like a Ford Pinto.

2. The Moron Twins never did their dishes, and often left dirty dishes, pots and pans filling the sink and then all over the counter. One day, while I was in the kitchen, I noticed fruit flies flying around the dirty dishes and commented on how they really ought to do their dishes because they were attracting insects. The response from them was (and I didn't have the patience to make this up): "No, it's not the dishes... it's the sugar jar." Mind you, the sugar jar was sitting 2 feet away from the dishes over which the flies were hovering and was also tightly sealed. When I said as such, they kept insisting that it wasn't the dishes. To this day, I still doubt that fruit flies have the strength to lift up the metal clasp sealing the container shut, or that they'd suddenly developed the ability to eat through rubber.

3. They never cleaned and never picked up after themselves, plus they often used dishes as ashtrays. There were always empty food wrappers and bags and pizza boxes always strewn across the apartment because they never cooked, they always ordered in and just left their garbage around. In a moment I'd rather forget, I once took a glass out of the cupboard, filled it with pink grapefruit juice and drained half of it before I noticed the rather large blob of ashes stuck to the bottom of the glass that they hadn't cleaned out. Suffice to say that after seeing it, my stomach wasn't churning due to the sudden addition of the citrus acid in the pink grapefruit juice to my digestive system.

4. They used the living room as storage space, so there were always boxes piled up in the corners and behind the couch. One of them was an aspiring moviemaker (one of his proudest accomplishments was called "Cheesewagon Rangers to the Stars II") who accidentally burned down an empty factory building in Maine during a "shoot" and filled two closets with all of his "props." When I asked him if he needed all of it so that I might be able to use some of the apartment's limited closet space, he said "actually, no, I only need about 5 percent of it, but I'm not quite sure which 5 percent so I have to keep it all."

5. The roommate who lived in the bedroom next to mine started dating a rather annoying girl about 9 months before our lease was up. They enjoyed having screaming-loud sex at 3AM, then playing the cartoon "Cow & Chicken" at high volume at 6AM. Odd things occurred, like her leaving the room as soon as I walked in, then getting lectured by my roommate as to how rude I was being towards his girlfriend. One night after an argument about the rent money, I came home to find a condom wrapped around my doorknob. I apparently wasn't practicing safe door-opening.

6. I took over rent-paying responsibilities after the Moron Twins had both handled it at some point, since both of them had bounced the rent check to our building management company enough times that management told us we had to pay using certified bank checks. Even while I was paying the rent, they both wrote me checks at some point that bounced in my account. This coming from guys who went out shopping every weekend for clothes that they could wear out to go bar-hopping and then buy marijuana, who were both making twice as much as I was at some point, yet kept complaining they didn't have money.

So the next time I start complaining about my current roommate, please administer a swift boot to my head, eh? Much obliged.

It's kind of odd... I've met only one other person named Keith in my entire life, yet online I've met up with two people both named Meredith -- both of whom have people named Keith in their lives who is not me. It's still very odd to see my name, especially when there's that split-second that takes place before the realization that they're not referring to me, while I think to myself, "Gee... I don't remember doing that."

It's kind of odd... I've met only one other person named Keith in my entire life, yet online I've met up with two people both named Meredith -- both of whom have people named Keith in their lives who is not me. It's still very odd to see my name, especially when there's that split-second that takes place before the realization that they're not referring to me, while I think to myself, "Gee... I don't remember doing that."

So the FBI has issued us all a nice warning telling us be on the alert for possible terrorist attacks somewhere within the U.S. or abroad sometime this week, although they're not sure what kind of attack it will be -- basically not answering any of the who/what/why/when/how questions. But they said the tip-off information has been deemed credible, so we all need to start running around like chickens sans heads now. And if that weren't enough, we have a winner for the "Well, duh!" award for this week: in response to questions about whether Osama Bin Laden's organization will attempt other attacks against America, our Not-So-Fearless Leader in the White House said, "We believe the country must stay on alert, that our enemies still hate us." Really, George? I thought we kissed and made up after we dropped all those foodpacks on them.

Is it just me, or would we all be better off just not getting that warning from the FBI? All that's going to do is make a lot of people paranoid and run around screaming again about how the sky is falling. To prove just how out of touch our government is, our beloved Dictator-in-Training Richard Ashcroft "said that while the information was not specific, the FBI was issuing the alert to the American people because 'they can make good judgments and can understand this kind of information,'" according to Reuters.

Dick... can I call you Dick? Dick... haven't you been reading the newspapers? Haven't you seen all the articles about people stockpiling food and water and survival materials in order to flee to the hills at the first sign of trouble? Haven't you read all the stories about the morons out there who've been mailing in their old bowling shoes and moldy carrots to the state HazMat offices for anthrax testing? Didn't you see my nice little entry last week about how a donut and its white powder singlehandedly shut down part of Grand Central Terminal? Around 90% of Americans are going to hear that alert as if it were processed through a "Peanuts" cartoon strip: "blah blah blah blah possible terrorist attack this week blah blah blah be on alert for anything suspicious blah blah blah..."

The line that Tommy Lee Jones said in Men in Black is true, despite the fact that the movie can't be taken seriously: "A person is smart. People are dumb." Hysteria is more infectious than anthrax, and the worst thing you people can do right now is get us all riled up about possible terrorist attacks in which we have no clue when or where they're going to happen. People are going to start calling up their police departments at 2AM because they hear their neighbors yelling in some foreign language in the apartment next door, when it's just the TV set because some guy was testing out his new DVD player and surround-sound system with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. And telling us to look for anything out of the ordinary... well, that's just way too general. I saw someone walking down Commonwealth Avenue this evening with blue spiked hair, more chains wrapped around him than an abandoned mine entrance, piercings in places I didn't even know you could pierce and he was wearing a t-shirt for the rock group Mission of Burma, which I haven't heard mentioned in years. Is that out of the ordinary enough for you? And as far as detaining people because they might be threats... well, Dick, I've got two X-Acto knives in my apartment, a few rather large kitchen knives and I've got pictures saved on my computer of the New York skyline. You going to arrest me like you arrested that couple who happened to have boxcutters in their car from when they moved last week and postcards from New York that they picked up during their trip north to drop off the wife at her duty station since she's in the Army? So what if her husband's from Yemen and he's got an Arabic name that she took when they got married? That doesn't give you the right to throw him in prison and force his wife to accept a discharge from the Army. That's definitely not the reaction of a government based on the principle of "innocent until proven guilty."

All I can say at this point is -- hell of an example our government is setting.

So the FBI has issued us all a nice warning telling us be on the alert for possible terrorist attacks somewhere within the U.S. or abroad sometime this week, although they're not sure what kind of attack it will be -- basically not answering any of the who/what/why/when/how questions. But they said the tip-off information has been deemed credible, so we all need to start running around like chickens sans heads now. And if that weren't enough, we have a winner for the "Well, duh!" award for this week: in response to questions about whether Osama Bin Laden's organization will attempt other attacks against America, our Not-So-Fearless Leader in the White House said, "We believe the country must stay on alert, that our enemies still hate us." Really, George? I thought we kissed and made up after we dropped all those foodpacks on them.

Is it just me, or would we all be better off just not getting that warning from the FBI? All that's going to do is make a lot of people paranoid and run around screaming again about how the sky is falling. To prove just how out of touch our government is, our beloved Dictator-in-Training Richard Ashcroft "said that while the information was not specific, the FBI was issuing the alert to the American people because 'they can make good judgments and can understand this kind of information,'" according to Reuters.

Dick... can I call you Dick? Dick... haven't you been reading the newspapers? Haven't you seen all the articles about people stockpiling food and water and survival materials in order to flee to the hills at the first sign of trouble? Haven't you read all the stories about the morons out there who've been mailing in their old bowling shoes and moldy carrots to the state HazMat offices for anthrax testing? Didn't you see my nice little entry last week about how a donut and its white powder singlehandedly shut down part of Grand Central Terminal? Around 90% of Americans are going to hear that alert as if it were processed through a "Peanuts" cartoon strip: "blah blah blah blah possible terrorist attack this week blah blah blah be on alert for anything suspicious blah blah blah..."

The line that Tommy Lee Jones said in Men in Black is true, despite the fact that the movie can't be taken seriously: "A person is smart. People are dumb." Hysteria is more infectious than anthrax, and the worst thing you people can do right now is get us all riled up about possible terrorist attacks in which we have no clue when or where they're going to happen. People are going to start calling up their police departments at 2AM because they hear their neighbors yelling in some foreign language in the apartment next door, when it's just the TV set because some guy was testing out his new DVD player and surround-sound system with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. And telling us to look for anything out of the ordinary... well, that's just way too general. I saw someone walking down Commonwealth Avenue this evening with blue spiked hair, more chains wrapped around him than an abandoned mine entrance, piercings in places I didn't even know you could pierce and he was wearing a t-shirt for the rock group Mission of Burma, which I haven't heard mentioned in years. Is that out of the ordinary enough for you? And as far as detaining people because they might be threats... well, Dick, I've got two X-Acto knives in my apartment, a few rather large kitchen knives and I've got pictures saved on my computer of the New York skyline. You going to arrest me like you arrested that couple who happened to have boxcutters in their car from when they moved last week and postcards from New York that they picked up during their trip north to drop off the wife at her duty station since she's in the Army? So what if her husband's from Yemen and he's got an Arabic name that she took when they got married? That doesn't give you the right to throw him in prison and force his wife to accept a discharge from the Army. That's definitely not the reaction of a government based on the principle of "innocent until proven guilty."

All I can say at this point is -- hell of an example our government is setting.

Given the fact that Halloween is only 2 days away, I've seen an inordinate number of articles and TV snippets on ghosts, demons, the supernatural and all that chazerai. Although I'm of the mindset that I find things hard to believe either without scientific proof or seeing it with my own eyes (hence my relative disbelief in the existence of God), the idea of ghostly beings still intrigues me. I just finished the most recent issue of the Improper Bostonian, which contained an article on ghost-hunters as well as some hotspots for hauntings around town. Granted, I'm close to Salem, which is supposed to be the Supernatural Capital of the World, what with the witches and all that, so it's possible that Boston has a higher concentration of ghosts than other cities. Plus, Boston's pretty much the oldest settlement in the U.S., so there's more of a history of people dying here so there's more potential for ghosts.

These stories that the ghost-hunters told... man, they kind of weird me out. They say they've talked to ghosts, been physically pushed up against walls and thrown down stairs by ghosts, even had their bodies inhabited by ghosts. Again, I've never seen it with my own eyes and there is definitely no scientific proof for this, but I still find it a little freaky and while I'd like to experience a ghost-sighting to either confirm or deny in my own head the reality of spirits, I kind of wonder if I really want to because I'm a little afraid of what if it is real and what might happen if it is.

According to the article, a man in a tuxedo appears in the upper balcony during shows at the Emerson Majestic Theatre, T drivers ring their trolley bells when driving through the Cedar Grove Cemetery to ward off the spirit of the cemetery's former caretaker, residents at 515 Park Drive occasionally hear a man pounding on their windows and the sounds of a woman struggling (a woman was murdered there by the Boston Strangler on December 31, 1962), and the "Lady in Black" haunts Georges Island in the harbor.

Anyone see any ghosts around?

Given the fact that Halloween is only 2 days away, I've seen an inordinate number of articles and TV snippets on ghosts, demons, the supernatural and all that chazerai. Although I'm of the mindset that I find things hard to believe either without scientific proof or seeing it with my own eyes (hence my relative disbelief in the existence of God), the idea of ghostly beings still intrigues me. I just finished the most recent issue of the Improper Bostonian, which contained an article on ghost-hunters as well as some hotspots for hauntings around town. Granted, I'm close to Salem, which is supposed to be the Supernatural Capital of the World, what with the witches and all that, so it's possible that Boston has a higher concentration of ghosts than other cities. Plus, Boston's pretty much the oldest settlement in the U.S., so there's more of a history of people dying here so there's more potential for ghosts.

These stories that the ghost-hunters told... man, they kind of weird me out. They say they've talked to ghosts, been physically pushed up against walls and thrown down stairs by ghosts, even had their bodies inhabited by ghosts. Again, I've never seen it with my own eyes and there is definitely no scientific proof for this, but I still find it a little freaky and while I'd like to experience a ghost-sighting to either confirm or deny in my own head the reality of spirits, I kind of wonder if I really want to because I'm a little afraid of what if it is real and what might happen if it is.

According to the article, a man in a tuxedo appears in the upper balcony during shows at the Emerson Majestic Theatre, T drivers ring their trolley bells when driving through the Cedar Grove Cemetery to ward off the spirit of the cemetery's former caretaker, residents at 515 Park Drive occasionally hear a man pounding on their windows and the sounds of a woman struggling (a woman was murdered there by the Boston Strangler on December 31, 1962), and the "Lady in Black" haunts Georges Island in the harbor.

Anyone see any ghosts around?