Nebur's World

tell me tío,
like you told me
when i asked you so long ago:
why does grass go to sleep
when i touch it?
why do weeds give me soothing milk
i can spread on my skin
to ease the sting of the mosquito
that doesn't seem to bother you?
why does the cut banana tree
grow back right in front of me?
why do some bananas
stay small and brown and sweet
while some grow big and green
and not so sweet
but savory, cuando Mamasita, 0
Yaya, o Mercedes
(pero nunca un hombre, never a man)
fries them and sprinkles them with salt?

tell me, tío,
how can you make cocada all day long

(all these years)

crack open the shells
with one blow of the machete and
give me the slippery sweet slime inside
that slides down my tongue

(all these years)

grate the coconut
mix in the honey above the fire
that boils the cocada and you

(all these years)

roll the still hot cocada into balls
and let them cool while you clean
the pot, the stirring stick and the machete
so they will he ready for next time
then call me over to try your fresh candy:

¡Ruben, ven acá!

sweat, still dripping from your aged face
as you hand me the biggest piece
and a bag to take home to america
before you remove
your sweat-soaked shirt and sun-soiled hat
replace them with the clean ones
you treasure so much,
then load up your cart and start down the street:
Cocada! Cocada!
dignified

(all these years)

sing to me your decima, tío,
take me to our land
take me to my land
show me how to work
the ground abuelo worked
how to feel the dirt
under my fingernails
show me the hut he built
where abuelita bore nine children
show me the land she loved
the land she left
the man she left
to educate her daughters
to give them a chance
because in the fields
they had none

sing to me, tío
sing me the songs that tell me why
the dormideros,
the milk plants,
and mis sueños Panameños
do not grow in this infertile land

take me by the hand
as you did so many years ago
at the deathbed of mi abuelo
as you did a few summers ago
at his tomb
the place where
abuela would rejoin him soon
close, but apart
in life, in death

take mi tío,
show me every plant
every mountain
every bird
every life-giving stream
but also show me
the dirty dollar
the endless squalor
bitter fruits of a broken pan-american dream

sing to me, tío
teach me the songs of the birds i've never seen fly
teach me
the songs i do not
remember
or maybe,
the songs i never knew

-Ruben Antonio Villalobos

Originally publish in Poetry for the People: Poetry in a Season of Love, Poetry for the People Press, Berkeley 1994

____________________________________________________
(By Lee Stevens)

i'm fairly new to the cell phone game. i've only had one since september, about 8 months now. i still don't understand all the features. for example: call waiting. whenever i try to switch over i always end up losing both calls, and it pisses me off to no end. if i'm in the middle of a text message and a call comes in, things go completely haywire and there's nothing to do but shake my fist at the sky and curse bill gates for tormenting me. perhaps i have a slight case of technophobia, i'll admit it.



regular phones are bad enough. i find the cell phone especially annoying, rather than some technology i can do without. it bugs me when people are yapping away on their phones at the coffee shop, or in the elevator, or on the bus, or at the beach, or in the movies. but then again, it sure does come in handy if i get separated from my friends at the coliseum.

maybe that's why i find the idea of a cell phone jammer so fascinating. these little puppies are already selling like hotcakes for $250 a pop on the streets of new york.


what is this strange modern invention?

imagine: you're in central park, trying to enjoy some precious and much needed silence, maybe listening to the sounds of nature, the squirrels climbing trees or the birds chirping... and some insensitive suit is blabbering away about some meaningless self-important bullshit. what do you do? BAP-BO! hit your zapper and all cell phone signals within a 20 foot radius of your magical jammer device get dropped. brilliant! i love technology!

is it obnoxious? no doubt. is it wrong? i suppose if someone interferes with an emergency call, ok... but otherwise, i say: let chaos reign. (this is not an endorsement of any device which may be of questionable legality in the USA. we have rules here. this is not vietnam)

coming soon: the best lee stevens adventure story post ever. better than that baja story. more pictures, more action, more danger.

_________________________
(by Nebur)

I rarely stop and reflect on my day. One day seems to blend into the next, and few are better (or worse) than the previous. Today, however, was eventful, so I thought I'd give the play-by-play.

6:45 a.m.: As usual, I woke up, and took an hour to drag myself out of my comfortable bed. Checked my e-mail, read my usual blogs and the Modesto Bee, took a two minute shower, downed a Diet Red Bull (it gives me wings), and took off to work.

8:22: Got to the office, scrambled into my suit, pounded a cup of coffee, grabbed my files and ran to court.

8:31: Got to court and handled my morning calendar. Worked out a couple of good deals, continued a couple of cases.

10:00: Appeared with my client, Mr. T., on a violation of probation proceeding. My client had a warrant on a case from 2003 where he failed to do his counseling. Mr. T. is a restaurant owner who developed a pretty serious coke problem a couple of years ago. Due to the coke addiction, he failed to appear in court 10 times over two years. In the last four months, he began the long road to recovery. He checked himself in to rehab, joined Narcotics Anonymous, and got 120 sober days under his belt. So I went before His Honor, client at my side, and the Judge asked me how a person could miss so many court days. (The presumption at this point is that my client is going to do some jail time). I told the Judge: "To quote the late Rick James, shortly before he died, 'Cocaine is a hell of a drug!'" I then proceeded to present the equities in my client's favor. The judge agreed that my client had made efforts at reforming, and gave him a suspended sentence. My client stayed out of custody, hopefully to continue with his recovery. Ironically, after the hearing, I found out that the restaurant that he owns is the same one where Sotic, KT and I got banned-for-life a couple of years ago after we complained about the food. Mr. T lifted the lifetime banning, and all is now well in the Mo'.

11:00: Went back to the office, just in time for the arrival of Paty and Ana's flowers. Downed another coffee. I am so lucky. I have two amazing, intelligent dedicated secretaries. The office wouldn't run without them.


Happy Secretaries Day, Paty and Ana!

11:45: Made a cameo at a Democratic fundraiser for lunch, and met likely gubernatorial candidate (and current State Controller) Steve Westly. He seemed like a dedicated, decent politician. Yet, I just don't feel a passion for him or any other California politician. When will we have our own Obama?) Had lunch, and two more coffees.

12:30: Made the drive down the 99 to Merced juvenile court. Was set to have the trial in the case that I wrote about here. By the time I got to court, the D.A. hadn't given me any information whatsoever to substantiate the gang charges against my client, even though the Judge had ordered him to turn over the information more than a week ago. The arresting officer failed to appear, as did the complaining witness. I objected to a continuance, so the matter is set to be tried this Friday. I firmly believe in my client's innocence, and hope to prevail. As I left court, my client's father (who is a clothing retailer) gave me a leather jacket to thank me for helping his son. I was so touched by the gesture.


Ahhh......Piel!

6:30 P.M.: Got out of court, headed back up the 99. Stopped at the Starbucks in Delhi for an Americano. Went to the office to prep tomorrow's calendar.

9:00: Got home, made a sandwich and grabbed a beer. Fed Vegas. Turned on the tube. Looked for mindless drivel. Watched Idol and Stacked (which turns out to be quite funny, as sitcoms go). Wrote this post. Called it a night.

____________________________________________________
(By Lee Stevens)


word to the wise
***
_______________________
(by Nebur)

Edited T-Shirt (Thanx to 333 for currekting my speleeng. He shuur is smart with leters and cyfering and sutch.)

So, true story, I was walking out of the jail today after visiting a client, and I saw a young Latina sister, kids in tow, wearing a T-shirt with the following slogan: "My boyfriend is cuter than yours." I was disturbed for so many reasons. Among them:

1. She actually spent money on the shirt,
2. She thought it was an o.k. shirt to wear in front of her kids, and
   
3. She's actually proud of her cute, incarcerated, baby's daddy.

Is it me, or is this one of those things that makes you go Hmmm?

______________________________


(By Al Tobin)

Ann Coulter this is The Lord speaking. Nebur’s World has been keeping me apprised of your rants and writings.

The day of your judgment has come.

You are not in Earth Court. You can’t talk your way out of here. You’re in God Court.

You are charged with raping liberals. As judge, jury and executioner, I find you guilty on all counts. It’s true Ann, I hear and see everything a person does in life.

“But Lord... I was just...”

Silence Ann Coulter. You will speak no more.

(Ann tries to speak, but no sounds emit from her voice box. The Lord has taken away her ability to speak.)

I command you to remove that strap-on you’ve been using for years to stick it to Democrats.

(Ann silently removes the strap-on.)

As the King of all kings, I sentence you to 48 years of community niceness. Your days as the Supreme Queen of Mean are over.

You will report immediately to the ghost of Mister Rogers. He will teach you how to be nice.

You are ordered to refrain from the use of alcohol, drugs and tobacco. You don’t strike me as a druggie. But with you right-wingers you can never be too sure. Look what happened to Rush Limbaugh.

You are further prohibited from employment as a political pundit in the print and broadcast media. You have proven that you are not worthy of that type of employment. I gave you a gift and you used it for evil.

This isn’t a violation of your right to free speech under the First Amendment.

You can say whatever you want. It’s just that people will have to come to your house to hear you. I’m placing you on home confinement for the duration of this sentence. Now put on this electronic ankle bracelet.

(Ann puts on the bracelet.)

This bracelet will let me and my angels know where you are at all times. You may spraypaint it to match your outfits if you like.

You are also required to seek and maintain employment. You may want to consider a career in modeling.

Lastly, when your life on earth ends, I order that you spend eternity with Leon Trotsky, Emma Goldman, Che Guevera, Cesar Chavez and Lenny Bruce.

Now, I’m restoring your voice. Do you have anything to say on your behalf?

“Yes my lord. Are those people you just mentioned in heaven or down you know where?”

I’m not going to answer that for you Ann Coulter. I never tell anyone where they’re heading. That way the individual has incentive to live a good life.

That is why I gave mankind free will. You’ll just have to wait to see whether you
end up... up here or down there... But if I were you, I’d try to be real nice to all people from now on, no matter what their station in life.

Good luck. This court is now in recess.

________________________________
(By Nebur)

• I had a great day today in Berkeley. Vission Latina's show was phenomenal. The slight drizzle of rain didn't get in the way of celebrating Mother Earth with the Bay Area's finest musicians.


• As you can see from the link on the side, I got up and running on flickr. (Thanks to cindylu for her help). Check out my photo sets of Earth Day, London, La Floridita, and my backyard. More to come.


• Oh... and on a closing note, for fun, go to Google Local and type in "Puto" and "Modesto," and here's what you get.

____________________________________________________
(By Lee Stevens)

a few weeks ago i went to see a soccer match at the LA coliseum... me, troutman, gerardo, big chango, colby, etiquio and tony caio.

the game: mexico vs argentina. it was a so-called "friendly" match, the stakes were low... argentina didn't play most of their "a" team.


etiquio and tony caio making eardrums bleed

the dilemma: which team to root for? normally in this situation, where i have no real allegiance, i'd go for the underdog. argentina has the #3 ranked team in the world, behind only brazil and france.

mexico is tied for #6 with holland. but then again, the coliseum will have 50,000 people there... mostly mexicans. so maybe argentina needs my support more...?


big chango and colonel troutman

what tipped the scales in favor of mexico: i was at this same game in 2003 and i pulled for argentina. i even wore an argentina jersey, as did my friend gerardo, who had his "batistuta" strip on.

so, to be fair, i had to keep things balanced by supporting mexico this time. etiquio is from guadalajara, and he had his "chivas" shirt on... tony from napoli bought a mexican flag in the parking lot.


colby and the colonel

we sat on the mexican side and pulled for mexico. it was a great game, even though it ended in a 1-1 draw. tony caio smoked a cigarette in a gas station on the drive up, and i thought we came pretty close to going up in a huge combustible fireball. etiquio and big chango had the horns going full blast, much to the mexican kids' delight.


borderline hooliganism

colby and the colonel were passing the flask of crown royal. gerardo was, as usual, a true student of the game... i think he made a few new friends. i had a lot of fun at the game. i love the la coliseum, i have good memories there.

__________________
(by Nebur)

For those who only read Nebur's World for the cutting-edge, no-holds barred politics, I have compiled an archive of Putos. Funny thing.....I just noticed that all of the charter members are conservatives! Have no fear, though. I have no doubt that loose cannon Al Tobin will have a bone or two to pick with a liberal. I'm also quite sure that Lee Stevens will one day designate me Puto of the Week for not recycling my paper straw wrapper.

The Puto of the Week archives can now be accessed from the menu bar. Enjoy.

1. Alberto Gonzales
2. William Rehnquist
3. Tony Blair
4. George Bush
5. Ann Coulter
6. Tom Delay
   

____________________________________________________
(By Lee Stevens)

nebursworld has been "flamed." who's flaming nebursworld, and why? other than the obvious self-satisfied smirking pleasure a prankster derives from lobbing a gratuitous cheap-shot, i mean... the new kids reference, the one claiming elton john called, wanting his shirt back. maybe it's 2 culprits instead of 1?


actions speak louder than words in the comment box

as of wednesday night, it's still an unsolved mystery. keymerbaby has been eliminated from my list of suspects. but i will find the responsible parties, and i will bring him/her to justice -- street justice, you know? vigilante style, two lead pipes and a bicycle chain justice. don't mess with me. i know how to make you disappear and make it look like an industrial accident. so laugh it up, chumpy. when you're at the bottom of the tuolumne river wearing cement shoes and a columbian necktie, it won't be so damn funny anymore.

_________________
(by Nebur)

The purpose of the L.A. trip was to attend the juvenile justice seminar at the Furama hotel by L.A.X. Both the conference and the hotel left much to be desired. If you don't like the smell of a dog's breath after smoking a cigar, don't stay at the Furama.

So I left at the break. I took the half hour drive down the Five to the office in Santa Ana, to see my Partner, Scott.


Santa Ana DUI Fighter

Lil' Lobo joined us at the office after getting out of class at Whittier law school. By the way, he recently passed his MPRE, which is basically the first part of the bar exam. Congratulations! Little bro, I hope you know how proud we all are of you, even though we always seem quick to criticize. Now hurry up and get a job so you can pay me back. I've got bills to pay.

After a hard afternoon of lawyering, we all went to the Seoul Garden restaurant for some Korean barbecue. Ahhh....... yummy goodness.


The food is hot at the Seoul Garden

On Saturday, my brother treated me to a Dodger game. I had never been to Dodger Stadium before, so it was quite exciting. The Dodgers played and beat the Padres, 8-3. Even though I'm a Giants fan, I was there to root for the Dodgers, so I was glad they won. Probably the hilight for me was seeing San Diego infielder Geoff Blum. I hadn't seen him since 1992, when he lived next door to me in the dorms, and I had no idea he was playing for San Diego. I know back in the day, he was one of Cal's star players, and I knew he had bounced around the league since the late 90's.

Geoff Blum pops a foul ball

Then the Seventh Inning Stretch. A round of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, and a quick jaunt to the beer line before they turned off the taps. A short inning and a half later, the Dodgers won it. It was a good day for baseball.


Last Pitch

______________________________


By Al Tobin

Ann Coulter, Ann Coulter sweet lust of my loins.

_________________________
(by Nebur)



After a long night finishing my taxes, I finally made it on the road to L.A. My first stop was Coalinga, home of Pleasant Valley State Prison. For those who don't know, Coalinga is a little more than two hours south of Modesto on the 5. Basically, it is a washed-up coal and oil mining town, whose current economy centers around locking people up. You know you are not in a thriving economic center when you stop at the gas station to ask for directions to the prison, and the clerk says "which one?"

I went to the prison to visit Mr. X, who is on his sixth year of a life term. He was sentenced under the Three Strikes law to a minimum of 25 years. His first two offenses are from the 70's, and his third offense was non-violent, and, according to the judge who sentenced him, a "technical offense." A couple of years ago, I was appointed by the District Court to represent him in a Habeas Corpus petition. Over the last two years, the law has gone from bad to worse. I had to explain to him that under the current state of the law, he has little hope. Try telling someone to keep his head up when there is little hope. It's a hard thing to do.

Had the voters passed Prop 66 last year, Mr. X would have been released. I truly believe that we, as a society, will ultimately decide that it is wrong to permanently incarcerate people for non-violent criminal conduct, as we finally decided that it shocks the conscience to execute our children. I just hope that change will come in time for Mr. X.

Next Chapter: I'm going with Lil 'Lobo to see the Dodgers tonight.

If you were this kid, and you needed aggressive representation......




Would you put your trust in him?


Defending the rights you may not know you have.

____________________________________________________
(By Lee Stevens)

a few wee matters to clear up before the weekend:

1) i haven't written nebur off completely because he took one measly ride in a hummer.

i have a bad habit of mocking hummers, i see them all the time and it grates on me. i think it's stupid to drive around in a car that was built for military purposes, a street-legal tank. i don't think hummers are cool looking, and i don't think they represent good values... it brings to mind the notion of ethical egoism. yeah, ok, your hummer's a "safe" car. but at whose expense? john q. palmpilot driving around in his honda CRV isn't going to be any safer with all these 6,000 pound hummers on the road. you like your hummer because you can "see the road" better. what happens when the next generation of SUVs comes out and it dwarfs your little H2? what's next? go bigger still? it's a slippery slope of self-interest.


source: sierra club

i really don't care if nebur went for a ride in a hummer. i'm going to take the piss out of the guy regardless of what he does. if he bought a hummer, well... that might be different story. as a general rule, i try not to impose my twisted morals on others. i'm trying harder not to see things in black and white. then again, i have my beliefs and opinions, and i don't make any secret of my position against hummers. perhaps my rights are illusory, my principles misguided... but they are uniquely mine, and i'm always going to stand by them. so, "to make a long story short," as nebur is so fond of saying: even though he has the indelible stink of american conspicuous consumption trailing off his diamond-encrusted bruno maglis, i still like the kid.

2) imagine a world without cars, it's easy if you try.

i sometimes daydream about how cool it would be to live somewhere without cars, like venice or some tiny island in the middle of the ocean. walking down a cobbled street or sandy path to buy groceries, saying hello to your neighbors, never having to worry about some smoke-belching truck breathing down your neck, horn blaring, running you off the fucking road. the little ding-ding bells of bicycles with baskets in front replacing the honking and screeching of tires, the road rage, the noise pollution. i read a story in national geographic about the moken people who live in boats off the coast of myanmar. these people don't have many possessions, because they're pretty much defenseless and pirates would rob them if they had anything valuable. so, they take what they need and they leave the rest. they fish, they salvage things, they make a little money trading shells and crafts, driftwood sculptures... and get this: in their language, they don't have a word for "want." how cool is that?


the search for queequeg

by the way, nebur: i know you are a big beatles fan. i watched "imagine" the other night, for the first time in a while. you know the part near the end where they play "don't let me down" from that rooftop in england somewhere? it's a great song, i can't get it out of my head these past few days... but you have to slow it down and go frame by frame before you can see the anonymous black guy playing keyboards, set up in back between some amps. what a rip! the song wouldn't be the same without the piano, and the poor guy can't even get two seconds of screen time?

3) my first CD was not "new kids on the block."

somebody posted a comment on here (all signs point to keymerbaby, whose lame attempts to prove his innocence have fallen flat in the face of mounting evidence, ie, this little prank has his grubby irish prints all over it) under my name, claiming my first CD was the "new kids on the block." i remember buying my first tape, with they money i made scoring biddy basketball games at the boys club: it was synchronicity by the police. in middle school, i inherited a few classic rock CDs (abbey road, the dark side of the moon, etc) after my uncle died. i bought a CD player just as i was really getting into music, this was around 1985 or so... i had that CD player over 10 years, until some crackhead smashed my window on market street in broad daylight on a sunday afternoon and stole all my stereo equipment. the first CD i ever bought was led zeppelin IV. so, put that in your pipe and smoke it, you red-headed saboteur. you think you're so cool with your "naked city" crap. well, guess what? i've listened to it, and it still sucks.

4) what's up with bobby fischer?

is anyone out there in nebursworld following this bizarre story?

"Fischer, 62, is wanted by the United States for violating sanctions imposed on the former Yugoslavia by playing an exhibition match there against Spassky in 1992."

he's old and cynical. he's completely crazy. he hates jews, even though his mom is jewish. he's a chess genius. he's suing the us gov't for illegally detaining him in japan. he's taking political asylum in iceland(??) from the us government, where he's wanted for... playing chess in yugoslavia? what a strange life this guy has led. it'll make an interesting movie someday.

_________________________
(by Nebur)


"Tail" Tattler Linda Tripp (Source: BBC News)

When I was a kid, we called informants tattle-tales, and nobody liked them.

The dirty little secret of criminal "justice" is law enforcement's reliance on paid informants. Subject to few exceptions, the Government can pay cash money to known criminals to secure tips and testimony to prosecute others. Often, the informant's identity is sealed, and they are given promises of immunity, i.e., official state sanctioning of their criminal activity, in exchange for helping out the Government. I don't like it, but that's the way it is.

Now, we are going too far.

At Model High School in Rome, Georgia, school officials are using revenue from candy and soda sales, to pay tipsters up to $100 for information about thefts and drug or gun possession on campus. Ten bucks to snitch on a stealer. $25 to 50 to dime out a dime-bagger. $1oo to point out a pistol porter.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH OUR SOCIETY! It's bad enough that schools are basically the biggest pushers of sugary sodas to kids, leading to record-setting childhood obesity levels. Now, we are using that blood money as the latest "smart" bomb in the war on drugs. How many innocent bystanders will get caught in the crossfire?

Do you know how much weed a kid could buy with a C-note?

This is a modern-day triangle trade. (Sell the kids soda=> Have them get fat and hungry=> Make the kids rat out on their friends so they can buy more soda (and maybe crank) => All of a sudden, the kids are buying some more soda.)

Besides, do the schools honestly believe that the "informants''" identities are not going to get out, probably within minutes? Nowadays, the average high -schooler is a text messaging fool. I foresee school districts having to put the rats into "protective custody" wings of the schools, much like the treatment of rats in jails.

Think, people. This is not a good idea.

(side note: To all of my Southland homies and homettes: I'm heading down south tommorow, and I'll be there through Sunday, so give a brother a call so we can hang out.)

_________________________
(by Nebur)

1. My buddy Carlos Caro and Vission Latina will be playing at the Berkeley Earth Day celebration, April 23, 2005, from 11-5 in Civic Center Park, at the corner of MLK and Center street. As I've posted before, Caro's group is amazing. Check out their music here. Congressman Dennis Kucinich is also expected to be in the house. A bit about Caro, from the band's site:
   
   "A native of Havana, Cuba, musically educated throughout his youth, and well traveled as a professional performer, Caro appeared on the West Coast music scene in 1996 to quickly become one of the most sought-after Latin percussionist, simultaneously playing in the best Cuban, Salsa and Latin rock bands throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. He has worked with Paulito FG, Rebeca Mauleon, Omar Sosa, Eddie Palmieri, Armando Perassa, Malo, QBA, Avance, Cubanacan, Candela, Ritmo y Armonia, and Dr. Loco's Rocking Jalapeno band among many others.





2. Announcing the new and improved DUIfighters.com website. It is still a work in progress, so your comments and suggestions are welcome. Thanks to O.C. Kev and I.C.E. for getting it back up. We hope to use it to pub the Santa Ana and Modesto offices. Note: The martini glass will be soon replaced with open handcuffs. (a little more professional, que no?) All comments for improving the site would be appreciated.
   


3. RonnieWonderful is back up. Sorry I've been flaky so far. I hope to post every day or two until the book is done.


4. I just found out that I will be road-tripping to Panama in late May with my Pops and some homies. I've never driven that far before, so I'm looking forward to it. Anyone have suggestions of places to see between here and there?


5. R.I.P. Andrea Dworkin. I never really bought the idea that pornography leads to rape (being that my professional experience is that rape is an act of violence, and not sex), but I give her props anyway, for tirelessly advocating for equal rights over a period of decades.
   


6. Muchisimas gracias, Don Fernando. My brand new dishwasher was on the fritz after an unnamed male relative helped me install it. My plates are now squeaky clean.


Don Fernando, Nebur's World's Director of Homeland Security


7. I went with Sotic to the City this past weekend for Flaigirl's birthday party. On the way there, listening to DJ Shadow, we started talking about the first CD we ever got. I'm embarrassed to say mine was the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing. Why wasn't it Rubber Soul? Or Straight Outta Compton? Anything by the Rev. Al Green? Purple Rain?
   
   What was your first CD?

____________________________________________________
(By Lee Stevens)

i finally went to my first nascar race a few weeks ago. normally this type of event is not my cup of tea. the smoke, nascar dads, the deafening noise, the blatant commercialism, "W" stickers on the back of lincoln navigators, the gas fumes, the smell of burning clutch and burning rubber, male white corporate oppression, six dollar beers, eight dollar nachos... i can think of countless ways i'd rather spend a sunday afternoon. i'm not like nebur, i'll puncture my own eardrum with a rusty roofing tack before i'm caught rolling in a hummer.


stranger in a strange land

but hey -- i'm pretty open minded and adventurous, i like to try new things, i'm willing to give it a chance. they say 95,000 people were out there at the california speedway in fontana, so there must be something to it. not that it matters, or any of the nebursworld readers give a rat's arse, but some dude named greg biffle won the race. wait, check that. i forgot about sotic -- he cares. what's up sotic? sorry about the pope and everything.


nebursworld puzzle time: find the black person

i went for the new experience and the company. my friend juan ceja was driving his cadillac fleetwood out there, so i could relax and drink in the parking lot for once. i had already committed to driving for the mexico-argentina soccer game, so i had to take advantage of my limited opportunity. plus, there's no way i was going to sit still in the baking fontana sun and watch cars go around a track 250 times all serious and sober. this is nascar, ok? i think you get beat you up if you don't have a plastic cup of budweiser in your greasy mitts.


i don't know what's tougher: the eyepatch or the jail 'stache

the race itself was pretty boring. we had the cheapest seats in the house, $65. our seats were about 10 rows back of the turn #4 on the track. oddly enough, the best (expensive) seats are way up at the top of the grandstand, where you can see the whole track. being so close was a bit nauseating. the first few times the cars drive by, it's pretty cool. i haven't seen a car drive by at 200 MPH in person before. it makes a big, loud whooooooosh sound, way better than hearing it on tv. after a few laps though, i was well bored.

i tried to focus my eyes on the individual cars as they drove by, to see if i could make out the driver's face. then i started to feel sick. i had to pull my focus back and take in the whole picture.... just watching the blurs go by, inhaling the sick smell of burning rubber and leaded gas fumes. if i didn't put my hand over my cup, little bits of black ash would appear at the top of my beer. i told the guy sitting next to me it was "nascar vitamins" and i think he secretly appreciated my clever joke, although he didn't laugh.


juan ceja debating the finer points of physics with some race fans

ok, maybe that last link about the gas was a cheap shot. but i couldn't resist, the environmentalist in me couldn't let it slide. to make it up for it, i'll say this: nascar is one of the most fan-friendly sporting events i've ever been to. no charge for parking. everyone gets there early and tailgates. people sharing hot dogs and steaks and country music. you can walk around the parking lot with a beer (bottles even!) in your hand, the cops will drive right by and nobody hassles you. practically every person has the jersey of their favorite driver/race team, but i didn't see any confrontations -- no stink eye, taunting, chucking peanuts, none of that. it was a peaceful nascar love-fest, where everyone comes together at the racetrack and joins forces in their fondness for cars and engine modifications, putting aside their petty "dale junior vs jeff gordon" disputes.

come on people now
smile on your brother
everybody get together
try to love one another right now

i'm glad i went, but i don't think i'll go again. 65 bucks is half the cost of the season-long MLB extra-innings package, and that goes all the way through the summer.

_________________________
(By Nebur)

For the last few months, I've been reading the posts of Aztlan.net. I first found their site when doing research for my post on Andres Raya. Instead of giving them ink, I've chosen to ignore them, up to now. But enough is enough. This agression cannot go unchecked.

Who are these people? Why do they infuriate me so? Why can't I just realize that they are trash-peddlers, and simply unsubscribe? I guess it's because I am afraid that some people actually believe the vile lies that these "journalists" spread.

Aztlan.net has:

• Claimed that many adult male Jews "exhibit a preponderance of homosexual and feminine characteristics" because they are orally copulated by rabbis as children;
• Called Chandra Levy a "Jewish sexpionage agent;"
• Said that Monica Lewinsky was actually an Israeli spy who "sexually compromise[d] Bill Clinton in order to bribe him to release the Israeli spy Jonathan Pollard."
• Claimed that Israel planted a male sex-spy to bring down the "sodomite" Governor of New Jersey;
• berated a Mexican politician for idolizing "the Jewess Madeline Albright;"
• Called Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg a "Jewess and ... former national head of the Luciferian ACLU";
  
• Speculated that converts to Judaism must stage anti-semitic hate crimes as a "mandatory initiation rite;"
• Said that Hitler's actions were justified by the actions of a consortium of Jewish business. (Note: How can a person of color ever justify genocide?)
  
• Alleged that the Abu Ghraib photos were actually the work of Jewish pornographers that also make snuff films showing the deaths of Central American children.
• Claimed that the "Jew and homosexual" members of the Supreme Court are responsible for the "sodomite" agenda and the spread of AIDS.
• Alleged, with no proof whatsoever, that a UC Irvine Jewish student group torched a mural by the Society of Arab Students;

Sinvergüenzas!

As a human being, I am disgusted by these bigots. As a Latino Jew, I am scared by them. As a web journalist who does my best to get my facts right, I am shocked by the complete lack of standards exhibited by the writers of Aztlan.net.

I don't know what's worse: The blatant jew-bashing or the equating of homosexuality to satan worshiping.

Aztlan.net is anti-semitic and homophobic. It is anti-human. Its authors rarely, if ever, provide citations for their rants. I encourage all readers to keep an eye on them and question every story they write. I know I will.

_________________________
(By Nebur)

(Source: www.junglelogic.tv)

Assuming I get my taxes done, I will be driving down to L.A. on Thursday, to attend a juvenile law workshop put on by the L.A. County Public Defender. As I prepare for this trip, I can't help but wonder how much longer I will be here in Modesto.

***
Background: I was born and spent most of my childhood here in the Mo'. After a decade of wandering, I finally came back home. I opened a law office and bought a house. I welcomed a new generation of the family and said goodbye to another. I did the grown-up thing. Aside from when I was in school, I've never stayed in one place for more than a year, and now I have been here three. In the interim, most of my closest friends either married or moved away, and my beloved hometown was overrun by a swarm of Bay Area transplants. Think locusts, but they devour parking spots and affordable housing instead of crops. The irony of their infestation is that because of them, I have to wait 45 minutes to get my burger at In-N-Out, but without them, In-N-Out wouldn't be here in the first place.
***

This place just isn't the same town it once was. As a kid, I always remember running into someone I knew at the Happy Steak or in the Gemco. Then again, that was way before the days of The Outback, a Starbucks on every corner, and subdivisions that seem to geometrically progress.

We've lost Graffiti Night. We've lost our beloved A's. (Who are the Nuts anyway?) You hardly ever see Kid Guitar any more. The Disco Rollerskater on the 99 overpass has obviously shot the duck for the last time.

We have lost our culture. Now we are just another pseudo-city with more choices of nothing worthwhile to do. We might as well be Sacramento.

Maybe I should move to L.A.. There they have Phillipes, home of the famous French Dip. That is reason enough to move.

But Ive created a niche-market here, and there I'd have to compete with every other Latino lawyer (and half of the anglos) to make a buck. And I'd have to fight the traffic. Maybe I'll just stay here and build up my frequent flyer miles on the weekends.

¿Quien sabe?

_________________________
(By Nebur)
In honor of the start of the season, (and inspired by posts by fellow bloggers here and here) I thought I'd recount some of my favorite baseball memories (in no particular order):

1. June 29, 1990, the night that two of my three favorite pitchers (Fernando Valenzuela and Dave Stewart) threw no-hitters. Reportedly, Fernando watched Stewart on TV, then told his teammates he was going to do the same thing. By the way, my third favorite pitcher is Nolan Ryan.



2. Watching Jim Abbott pitch, retrieve his glove from the stump of his right arm, field a ball, and throw the runner out on first, all in one fluid movement. Not bad for a one-handed pitcher. He also threw a no-hitter on September 4, 1993.
   
   



3. Hitting my first ball for the Buenos Aires T-Ball Cubs. O.K., I wasn't that good, but I was an honest to goodness T-baller. Not bad for a five year old.



4. Going to my first major league game, and watching my two favorite teams, with my grandfather. It was the 80's in Oakland, and The Orioles were in town. My grandfather grew up in Baltimore, so he and I would always make sure to watch on TV when the two teams played. That was the last time my grandfather ever went to a crowded venue.





5. When The Orioles and the Cuban national team played each other. Watching Bud Selig and Fidel Castro enjoying an afternoon of beisbol: What could be better! Yet, six years later, the ludicrous embargo prevails. (side note: I had always heard that Fidel Castro almost became a Washington Senator back in the '40s. Apparently, that is an urban legend.)
   
   
   
   



6. Watching my local province team Herrera take on the cross-river rivals from Los Santos, in my town of Chitre, Panama. Instead of hot dogs, vendors sold empanadas and ice-cold Cerveza Soberana. Herrera won that game.
   
   



7. The '98 home-run race. Finally, after the strike, baseball was good again! Oh.... and I won a steak dinner on a bet with KT. I bet him that for a brief moment in time, Sammy held the record. I was right. On a morbid note, at the heigth of the race, I was reading Iris Chang's book, the Rape of Nanking. I was amazed to read that during the months-long siege of Nanking in which several hundred thousand people were slaughtered, Japanese newspapers featured a record-race of their own. Front Page headlines featured the death count in Mukai Toshiaki and Noda Takeshi's "friendly" race to be the first Japanese soldiers to kill 100 Chinese. The parallels to McGwire and Sosa were bizzare.
   



8. Rolling in the Hummer with Carlos, Mario and El Profe to watch the Sacramento Rivercats at Raley Field. It was a perfect Spring day, in a perfect venue for ball. Just four friends, watching minor league baseball, drinking beer. Yeah, I know that I am not supposed to like Hummers, but what a ride!
   



9. Meeting Mike Krukow. It would have been 1990 at the latest, shortly after he retired. I was on a high school trip to Disneyland, and some friends and I were waiting in line to get on the Matterhorn. In front of us was none other than Krukow. He was gracious, and not only signed an autograph, but chewed the fat with us for about 15 minutes.
   



10. Playing in the King Hall league on Wednesdays in law school. For a couple of hours a week, I escaped the horrors of law school in a friendly game of softball with classmates. By my second year, I figure out how to prop up my beer bottle in the outfield so I wouldn't spill it everything the ball came my way.
    

And last but not least, my least favorite baseball memory: Getting a bat broken over my head in Buenos Aires when I played catcher a bit too close!

_________________________
(By Nebur)
In honor of Cesar Chavez Day, here's a poem written by my mom in April, 1993

Dos maestros

(Homenaje a César Chávez y Mario Moreno)

En un abril de soles radiantes
Desaparecieron dos gigantes.
Sus cantinfladas nos encantaban
Y la solidaridad nos enseñaban.

Descendientes de nobles aztecas
Culminación de la raza mestiza.
Subieron cumbres que pocos alcanzan
Nuestros maestros que en paz descansan.

De raíces humildes nacieron
Conocidos por todos murieron
Vivían de cada lado de la frontera
Dispuestos a vencer cualquier barrera.

El niño César en los campos andaba
De joven, Mario zapatos lustraba
Los dos famosos por lo que lograron,
De los pobres, nunca se olvidaron.

Pregoneros de paz, respeto, amor,
Alegría y justicia en el fragor.
Cantinflas con su dulce travesura
César con su fuerza y su ternura.

Nos dieron la semilla bien hecha
De nosotros depende la cosecha.
No nos quedan recuerdos solamente
Si logramos justicia permanente.

-Marianne Villalobos

Also, Save the Salinas Libraries! Sign a petition to keep the libraries open in Salinas.

_________________________
(By Nebur)


Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave?

Last week, I got an innocent 16 year-old boy out of custody. Here's the story:

Facts: Client (16 year-old Chicano) and his two friends are in the McDonalds parking lot after a high school basketball game in rural Merced County. His buddies start talking to a couple of ladies of the caucasian persuasion. A group of white guys come up and take offense at what they see. One of the guys comes up and, completely unprovoked, sucker punches my kid in the back of the head. Reeling from the bunch, my kid reaches into his pocket, grabs a pocket knifes, and flashes it to scare off his attacker. The kids flee. My client is subsequently arrested. He is wearing a blue belt. He is taken to Juvenile hall, and charged with 1) assault with a deadly weapon, II) brandishing a knife, and III) gang enhancements. By the way, counts I and III are strikes under the three strikes law.

By the way, my client has no criminal history whatsoever, is an honors student with national academic recognition, volunteers for youth groups in his community, and has never been in a gang.

Procedure: Before his parents hired me, my kid spent 42 days in juvenile hall. His court appointed attorney told him to sit it out, because there was nothing that could be done for him.

Issue: I know there is no way in hell that the minor will be convicted on the gang charges, wich require 1)active participation in a criminal street gang, and 2) that the offense was committed at the direction of or for the benefit of the gang. I know that there is no way the people will be able to prove my client's guilt, because he simply is not a gangbanger. As to the other counts, I hope to muster a strong case based on self-defense. YET, I didn't want my client to be detained in the interim.

Victory: Every detained juvenile in California courts is entitled to a "Dennis H." hearing, where, after listening to witnesses, a judge determines whether there is a prima facie case to hold the minor. If not, than the minor is released. These hearings are RARELY requested by defense counsel, and I must admit, this is the first time I did one. I got to the hearing, and the District Attorney (before even introducing himself) told me that the hearing would be continued, because the officer was on vacation in Hawaii. I told him that since he didn't notify me 48 hours earlier of the witnesses unavailiability (as the law requires), I would object to any continuance. The judge agreed, and my client got to spend his first night home after 42 days of being caged.

Now, we do the trial at the end of April. More to come.....

_________________________
(By Nebur)
By the way, in case I wasn't clear enough in my Pope post, let there be no mistake: I do not want to be kept "alive" in a persistent vegetative state. I'm not sure about other forms of life support under other circumstance. I'll get back to you on that. The following two editorials break it down. The first was in today's Modesto Bee, and the second was emailed to me by a friend. The second one is long, but worth it.


DeLay Should Look in Mirror Before Calling Anyone Arrogant
(Source: The Modesto Bee Editiorial Page, 4/5/05)

House Majority Leader Tom DeLay, R-Texas, last week declared war on one branch of the government, condemning what he called "an arrogant, out of control, unaccountable judiciary that thumbed their nose at the Congress and the president."

We would argue that the problem really stems from arrogant and out-of-control members of Congress, notably DeLay. Representatives and senators hastily passed and President Bush signed a law that nullified state court decisions and dictated to federal courts how they must handle one person's case, that of Terri Schiavo.

The appeals courts rejected the legislation. The law, according to 11th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals Judge Stanley Birch Jr., a conservative appointed by former President Bush, "invades the province of the judiciary and violates the separation of powers principle." Congress, he added, erred by "arrogating vital judicial functions to itself." And when the "fervor of political passions" moves Congress and the president to "act in ways inimical to basic constitutional principles," he said, the judiciary has to stand up for the Constitution.

Alexander Hamilton wrote in Federalist No. 78 that the independence of judges was intended to guard the Constitution and the rights of individuals from "cabals of the representative body." Lifetime appointments for federal judges were intended as a "barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative body."

After Terri Schiavo's death, DeLay told reporters: "This loss happened because our legal system did not protect the people who need protection most, and that will change. The time will come for the men responsible for this to answer for their behavior, but not today."
This isn't the first time DeLay has suggested impeaching judges when he didn't like their opinions.

American freedoms depend on the separation of powers. DeLay and others in Congress have made a mockery of that principle.

***

Living Will is the Best Revenge
By ROBERT FRIEDMAN
(Source: St. Petersburg Times, 3/27/05)

Like many of you, I have been compelled by recent events to prepare a more detailed advance directive dealing with end-of-life issues. Here's what mine says:

* In the event I lapse into a persistent vegetative state, I want medical authorities to resort to extraordinary means to prolong my hellish semiexistence. Fifteen years wouldn't be long enough for me.

* I want my wife and my parents to compound their misery by engaging in a bitter and protracted feud that depletes their emotions and their bank accounts.

* I want my wife to ruin the rest of her life by maintaining an interminable vigil at my bedside. I'd be really jealous if she waited less than a decade to start dating again or otherwise rebuilding a semblance of a normal life.

* I want my case to be turned into a circus by losers and crackpots from around the country who hope to bring meaning to their empty lives by investing the same transient emotion in me that they once reserved for Laci Peterson, Chandra Levy and that little girl who got stuck in a well.

* I want those crackpots to spread vicious lies about my wife.

* I want to be placed in a hospice where protesters can gather to bring further grief and disruption to the lives of dozens of dying patients and families whose stories are sadder than my own.

* I want the people who attach themselves to my case because of their deep devotion to the sanctity of life to make death threats against any judges, elected officials or health care professionals who disagree with them.

* I want the medical geniuses and philosopher kings who populate the Florida Legislature to ignore me for more than a decade and then turn my case into a forum for weeks of politically calculated bloviation.

* I want total strangers - oily politicians, maudlin news anchors, ersatz friars and all other hangers-on - to start calling me "Bobby," as if they had known me since childhood.

* I'm not insisting on this as part of my directive, but it would be nice if Congress passed a "Bobby's Law" that applied only to me and ignored the medical needs of tens of millions of other Americans without adequate health coverage.

* Even if the "Bobby's Law" idea doesn't work out, I want Congress - especially all those self-described conservatives who claim to believe in "less government and more freedom" - to trample on the decisions of doctors, judges and other experts who actually know something about my case. And I want members of Congress to launch into an extended debate that gives them another excuse to avoid pesky issues such as national security and the economy.

* In particular, I want House Majority Leader Tom DeLay to use my case as an opportunity to divert the country's attention from the mounting political and legal troubles stemming from his slimy misbehavior.

* And I want Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist to make a mockery of his Harvard medical degree by misrepresenting the details of my case in ways that might give a boost to his 2008 presidential campaign.

* I want Frist and the rest of the world to judge my medical condition on the basis of a snippet of dated and demeaning videotape that should have remained private.

* Because I think I would retain my sense of humor even in a persistent vegetative state, I'd want President Bush - the same guy who publicly mocked Karla Faye Tucker when signing off on her death warrant as governor of Texas - to claim he was intervening in my case because it is always best "to err on the side of life."

* I want the state Department of Children and Families to step in at the last moment to take responsibility for my well-being, because nothing bad could ever happen to anyone under DCF's care.

* And because Gov. Jeb Bush is the smartest and most righteous human being on the face of the Earth, I want any and all of the aforementioned directives to be disregarded if the governor happens to disagree with them. If he says he knows what's best for me, I won't be in any position to argue.

***
'Nuff said.

_________________________
(By Nebur)

Years ago, I read this poem in a class at Berkeley. To this day, it is the most powerful piece of poetry or pose that I have read. I used it for an essay that I wrote in the poetry textbook. Then, over the years, I lost the poem somewhere. It wasn't until today that I had the sense to find it online. Thank you Google, for giving me back this poem.

Apolitical Intellectuals

One day
the apolitical
intellectuals
of my country
will be interrogated
by the simplest
of our people.

They will be asked
what they did
when their nation died out
slowly,
like a sweet fire
small and alone.

No one will ask them
about their dress,
their long siestas
after lunch,
no one will want to know
about their sterile combats
with "the idea
of the nothing"
no one will care about
their higher financial learning.

They won't be questioned
on Greek mythology,
or regarding their self-disgust
when someone within them
begins to die
the coward's death.

They'll be asked nothing
about their absurd
justifications,
born in the shadow
of the total lie.

On that day
the simple men will come.

Those who had no place
in the books and poems
of the apolitical intellectuals,
but daily delivered
their bread and milk,
their tortillas and eggs,
those who drove their cars,
who cared for their dogs and gardens
and worked for them,
and they'll ask:

"What did you do when the poor
suffered, when tenderness
and life
burned out of them?"

Apolitical intellectuals
of my sweet country,
you will not be able to answer.

A vulture of silence
will eat your gut.

Your own misery
will pick at your soul.

And you will be mute in your shame.

--Otto Rene Castillo

For background on this powerful poet, click here.

_________________________
(By Nebur)

Pope John Paul II


On this, the day of the passing of the Holy Father, I have spent a lot of time thinking on the gift of life. Along with much of the world, I stood vigil these past few days, perhaps even these past few years. I am not a Catholic, not a Christian, and in recent years, I haven’t even been actively Jewish. Yet the Pope always spoke directly to me.

I remember first learning of the Pope in 1981. One afternoon, I was watching a rerun of the live action Batman series, when a breaking news flash interrupted. The Pope had been shot. The world was standing vigil. Who was this peaceful man, beloved by so many? Even at 10 years old, I remember being impressed at his relationship with the man who shot him. How could anyone take a bullet, then pray for his attacker, forgive him, and seek clemency for the would-be assassin?

The answer is simple: To his dying breath, the Pope fought for the value of human life. Unlike so many American religious leaders, who only seem to find value in “innocent” human life, the Pope was steadfast in his beliefs. The anti-death penalty movement had no greater champion than the Holy Father. The anti-war movement had a friend in Pope John Paul. The anti-torture and anti-hunger and human rights movements did as well.

And so did the so-called pro-life movement, and those who seek to restrict euthanasia, and to mandate the use of artificial means for delivering food and water to people in persistent vegetative states. Ironically, the Pope also opposed stem cell research. In these areas, I disagreed with the Pope. Though steadfast in my disagreement, I gained strength in watching the Father welcome his death.

***
A bit of my bias and background: Up until almost two years ago, I had not been visited by Death. On June 23, 2003, after a protracted struggle with Parkinson’s, my grandfather lost his battle. More than two decades earlier, Grandfather made his intentions clear: When his time came, he did not want to be kept alive. For him, that would not be "living." Like the Pope, my grandfather ultimately found death's catalyst in the form of an infection. We all watched as his weight declined, as his breathing became more and more deliberate, as his soul left his body. We all watched, as ten days of dying decayed eight decades of enduring. Simply put, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to witness.

The hardest part for me was the guilt. Why was I letting my beloved grandfather die? Why didn't I force someone, anyone, to nourish him? Why didn’t I spend more time with him? Why was I so focused on my life, my career, my selfish diversions?

I got through the pain of watching him die by remembering that he was dying as he wanted to, and by reciting my mantra:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

After my grandfather passed, I got part of his coin collection. Even though I had been through the coins literally hundreds of times with him, there was one coin that I had never before seen. It was a small medallion, with praying hands on one side, and the Serenity Prayer on the other. I will always believe that this was Providence’s way of letting me know that Grandfather finished his long journey, in a way of his choosing. He was finally resting.

***
After watching Grandfather struggle, I became more fascinated by the Pope. In the Holy Father, I saw my grandfather’s affect. I saw how hard it was for him to hold his head up, to control his lips, to control his body. And like Grandfather, I saw how even as his body withered, the Pope’s mind remained as sharp as ever. I believe it a miracle that the Pope’s body allowed him to achieve his spirit's desires in his waning years. Parkinson’s is a formidable foe. At the very least, the Pope's final achievements bear testament to the healing power of faith.

***
The Pope died with dignity. At about 2:30 in the morning, on the eve of his death, he spoke to me. The Vatican reported his final comforting words to those in the room with him. He was at peace. He was dying as he wanted to. Just as there was value in the way he lived, there was value in the way he died,

They said that in his last years, the Pope was never embarrassed at the failings of his body. They say that as he developed tremors, and began to drool from the effects of Parkinson’s, he comforted those around him by letting them know that he was alright. He was simply in another stage of life. As someone who struggles with the embarrasment of my own tremors in public, I pray that I will one day have the Pope’s strength to live as he did. Selfishly, I also pray that stem cell research continues, so that if I am one day stricken with Parkinson's, I won't have to fight the struggle of my predecessors.

I also hope that when my day comes, I will be able to die as I choose.

My grandfather chose to accept death in one way, and the Pope chose to accept it in another. For them both, I pray.



(Photo Source: Catholic Pages.com, with a great summary of the election procedures for the new Pope.)

_________________________
(By Lee Stevens)


Kipman Ronald Dynamite, protecting you from "evildoers"

Happy April Fool's Day, Loyal Nebursworld Reader!

In honor of one of my favorite holidays, I've compiled another one of my popular lists. I bow to the will of the people.

Top Five Things That Sound Like They Are April Fool's Pranks, But Sadly, Are Not:

1) Paul Wolfowitz confirmed as Head of the World Bank. This guy is a jerk and a warmonger, and he has the blood of innocent people on his hands. Hey, promotion time! President Bush says "he's a man of many experiences." Like Jon Stewart of the Daily Show said, "the same could be said about the members of Motley Crue." This guy doesn't know crap about banking or interest rates. This is the same guy who said the reconstruction of Iraq would be "self-financing" from Iraqi oil revenue "relatively soon." We couldn't find a single person more qualified than Wolfowitz?

2) Twilight Tee Time. My local muni course has discounted rates for players who tee off after 1pm, the so-called "twilight rate." After this weekend, when the clocks move forward one hour, it goes from 1pm to 3pm. What gives? I don't claim to be an expert in maths, but even I can figure out 1+1 doesn't equal 3. I tried explaining this to the guy behind the desk but I got one of these "Hey, I don't make the rules, I only work here" type of looks. That really pisses me off.

3) Scots develop new life-extending "Miracle Pill." How is this possible? More pills? I refuse to take any pills. I don't care if I die early, I'm not going to be some miracle of science, some superhuman robot, some 6 million dollar man. Well, at least it was developed in Aberdeen. You know what they say: if it's not Scottish, it's crap. I'm sure Keymerbaby is at home in Colorado right now, getting ready for his first daughter to be born, wishing the Irish could invent something useful for once...

4) Edible Space Shuttle. The folks at NASA are teaching kids about space by making space shuttles out of celerey, carrots, and white bread. First of all, what's wrong with brown bread? I'm know Nebur prefers Wonder bread, but I always go for the dark rye, the pumpernickel, or wheat. What's next? Guacamole bombs? A sidewinder missle made from string cheese? 40 mm radish guns?

5) Pat Buchanan punked in Kalamazoo. Ok, this one's true. At least Buchanan was cool about it, he told the cops he didn't want the kid to go down on a felony... He can take a joke, he's ok in my book.

Have a good weekend, reader. Opening day for baseball season is Sunday!