Showing posts with label Surprises. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Surprises. Show all posts

Friday, March 23, 2012

On A Wish And A Prayer

I spent the last week in upper New York and Manhattan. What a truly wonderful place to be for many reasons! I did so many things, went to countless places and loved every minute of it, but one special experience stands out above all the rest.

I'd walked into the Guggenheim Museum, late afternoon. There is a small fountain in the generic, contemporary shape of a fish, and as I am always wont to do, I stopped there to toss in pennies and make a wish for myself and two people who were not with me in person, but are always with me in spirit. 

As I was standing there, taking my time and giving careful consideration and thought to my purpose, I could feel that I was being watched, and after tossing in the last penny, I looked to my side and there were three lovely young girls of Asian origin; I'd venture an educated guess at Korean, who were watching me very intently. I knew they were trying to ascertain the scene before them, staring in fascination while trying not to be invasive.

I smiled widely at them to let them know they were welcome to communicate, if they wanted to.

One of them stepped forward bravely as the other two watched with wide eyes and shy smiles. She pointed toward the fountain and asked in her soft, broken English,
"What is it?". I knew she meant, 'What are you doing? What is the purpose of this custom?'

I explained, "I'm making a wish. I throw in the penny and make a wish that I would like to see come true." The young ladies stared silently and I knew the word 'wish' did not register with them. There was another way to explain.
"It is a hope, a prayer.  To hope for something; a job, health, love, luck, anything you want. A prayer for these things."  At this explanation of 'prayer', all the light bulbs above their heads flashed on and they became delighted that they understood it finally... a simple and universal concept... a sacrifice for a prayer or hope... pennies for wishes.
They got it.  They were very happy.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out two dimes and a nickel and handed them each a coin and gestured to the fountain. They went through a quick array of emotion; surprise, honor and humbleness, thankfulness, and then it gave way to serious contemplative prayer. Amidst bowing lowly, smiling and thanking me, they lined up shoulder to shoulder, all three folded their hands; coins in palm, prayed earnestly and one by one opened their eyes and tossed their coins into the fountain.

I watched with absolute pleasure. It brings me such happiness to create bonds with people, to teach and learn, to share joys and break down barriers and this was a very special one. The language challenge was gone. The opportunity to share with each other created a memorable experience for all, and it was serenely sweet to watch them all partake in this simple, heartfelt custom that they knew in a different way.

They turned to me, bowing, grinning, giddy with delight and I offered to use their camera to take a photo of them in front of the fountain, but they all three said no, they wanted a photo of me with them and I complied. We got an image of the four of us together, and I had them make one with my camera, and then they all hugged me tightly and went on their way.

What a truly wonderful blessing to be able to trade a few coins for this priceless memory. It was the best part of the trip.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Wordless Wednesday

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Straight From The Heart

I was visiting my dear Cupcake Man and discovered that this friend had reached right down onto one of the soft quiet beaches shoring the deep oceans of my heart and discovered a lovely sea shell that he plucked up, put in his pocket and took back to his own shore.

He proudly displayed it by way of publishing it and there I discovered it, recognizing it right away but never  having seen it before. That familiar shell brought forth a sea spray of salt water from my heart to my eyes and the waves inside me swelled with a powerful current.

Here is the treasure he has taken from the dark and placed prominently in the light...



"Overboard I fell, overlong we dwelled. I was lifted up in the arms of that strong one, lifted up into his cape, too tired to thank the man, I spent a month harvesting his grapes. When he let me play with his children, when he let me sit at his table, I gained a position, small bit of dignity in the household a go to child when a salesperson dropped in from town. "Please sir sit down and let me pour you green tea." Please sir, I would think to myself, can you tell me what happens in town? I was thirteen and heard of the glass fountains in the main square, covered with lights in spring evenings." ~ Cupcake Man



It is his creation and it is my truth.

Isn't it surreal when we find ourselves in each other by mere whim or chance? Perhaps it isn't chance at all, perhaps it is not serendipity perhaps it is because we are all made of the same elements of everything in the universe and sometimes those elements rediscover grains of themselves when circumstance brings them near one another again & again.

Thank you, Cupcake Man, how very sweet this is.



Monday, June 6, 2011

Cuppa Joe

I pulled up to a shed that had been painted baby blue and renovated into a drive up coffee hut. A rubber hose that stretched out across the asphalt rang like a service station bell to alert the proprietor to my presence, when I drove over it. I looked at the brief and simple menu and then at the window.

A man of at least 150 years in age leaned his old weathered face out the window.
"YOU WANT SOME COFFEE?" he yelled across the two foot distance to me.

My biting satirical tongue was barred momentarily by my teeth which flashed a million dollar grin and I swallowed the smarty pants retort that rushed to spring from my lips before I ingested it... "No, Sir, I just pulled up to this drive up coffee shed to see if you could wash the windshield of my car and check the oil."  But I didn't say it.

"Yes, please, Sir!" I offered up to him as his window towered over my drivers side door.  Examining the menu, I thought I'd reserve my usual barista lingo coffee request and keep it simple for this elderly gentleman of the small country town persuasion. I was surprised to find a coffee shed there at all, let alone one which sold several beverage options in Italian (espresso, cappuccino...); it was encouraging, but I thought simple would be best.

"Could I please get a mochaccino, decaf?" I asked.

"A WHAT?!?!" he yelled at me, the deep lines on his old face transforming into bewilderment.

I realized, too late, that I had overestimated the culture curve bridging the short distance between us. I could simplify this again and put it into steps for him, in an effort to be helpful. 

"Could you please make a cappuccino?"

"YEAH."

"Do you have some sort of chocolate syrup that you could put into it, please?" ...voila, mochaccino.

"OH... YOU DON'T WANT A CAPPUCCINO. THERE'S NOTHING IN IT!" he hollered at me.

I was at a complete loss.

"I'm sorry?"

"YOU OUGHTTA GET A LATTE. DON'T YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A CAPPUCCINO AND A LATTE?"

I was dumbstruck. I was trying my very best to fathom how this elderly gentleman could possibly be serious. I smiled in confusion and politeness and he took no notice; he just plowed right on.

"A CAPPUCCINO IS ALL FOAM. YOU DON'T WANT THAT. THERE'S ONLY HALF A CUP OF COFFEE. GET A LATTE, THEN YOU HAVE A WHOLE CUP OF COFFEE."

I stared at him incredulously. My two friends who were sitting in the car with me were in hysterics laughing at the situation.  I could only think that I didn't want to confound the old man any further, for that would invariably lead to more amazement on my part, and I'd had enough by this point.

"That's fine, Sir, please use decaf and please put some chocolate in it."

He left to start the coffee and I turned and stared at my friends who were still in fits of laughter. 

"HEY!" He yelled to me and I turned and looked up at him leaning out to me again.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE A SMART ASS, I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU KNEW THE DIFFERENCE!" he yelled. He handed me a large cup, I paid him and we drove off.

I tasted it; it was the worst cup of joe I have ever had the misfortune to lift to my lips. I looked at my friends and said, "I'm so sorry that I didn't go to Starbucks."  They continued to laugh at the whole debacle.

Since this encounter, I have made a new cardinal rule in the Holy Book of Scarlett's Cardinal Rules... 'If they don't know what it is, don't ask them to make it, and never buy coffee from an old man in a coffee shed in a small town. Ever.'

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Grains Of Sand


There were so many different grains of sand that fell this year. Each one very precious. Each one with significant purpose and meaning. I learned so much, this year, more than I have in a very long time. Listening affords one the opportunity to hear and then change, if one is open to that.

This was the year that seemed to ride on shifting sands all the way through... everything I thought would go one way, went another, so many plans were changed or let go of, and things I didn't expect presented themselves from seemingly nowhere.

Fine grains~
     There was forgiveness between people I love, and I forgave, and I was graciously forgiven.  It emphasized compassion, understanding, patience, devotion and love, and it strengthened bonds.
     There was discovery and adventure in small and huge ways, in new places and in old, hand in hand with friends, which only serves to enrich those kind of experiences even more.  These excursions included the procurement of a red satin fringed flapper dress, Tony Bennett, King Tut, incredible moments in Muir Woods, tigers & leopards, ocean waves, orca whales, beautiful cities, a champagne birthday on a beach before an ocean sunset, a random cow, tangible history in Westminster Abbey, new friends in London, old and new hidden treasured places along the Thames, midnight under Big Ben, a movie set & some incredible actors, dolphins in SF Bay (?!), the best breakfast cafe in SF, the best sushi in the world in V.BC, a girl and her horse make beautiful subjects before a lens, mountain lakes don't last for eternity, there are faerie glens in woods & secret mountain places, I went halfway up the Eiffel Tower... again, the umbrella salesman has a stand at the end of the rainy road, I already met the only accordion player who knows La Vie En Rose and he's not in Vegas, art comes in every form and when it's water, it's beautiful, there's no rush or thrill like standing on a stage in a theatre singing your heart out to strangers, and it is equally thrilling to see dear friends do the same.
    
Medium grains-
     Friendships mean different things to different people and when they are lost, it isn't always a bad thing.  In the face of lost friendships, the loyalty and devotion of good friends is truly shown for its priceless worth. 
     When times are very difficult, in loss, in fright, in pain, in anger, in confusion, there isn't anything so good or precious as the warm steady strength of a friends hand or loving arms to make it through the darkness.
     We have control over our environments, most of the time, and we have absolute control over how we choose to react to our environments and our experiences.  I quote Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor, “...The last of human freedoms – the ability to choose one’s attitude in a given set of circumstances.” as he explains how he made it through his unthinkable ordeal.  I repeated lessons in learning to adapt and grow in different environments... learning to make choices that would benefit others as well as myself.
     Humbleness is found in honesty with self and when spoken with love by others, and it is the essential nutrient a soul needs to grow strong and upright. 
     Allowing shame and guilt to dictate behavior and thought is an unnecessary self-inflicted binding that hinders recovery and growth and should be left alone entirely.

Coarse grains- 
     One of the biggest lessons of the year, and one I am still working through, is that love is all encompassing... real love knows no bounds, it is not ruled by organization... by trying to force it into categories and definitive segments... compartmentalized until it is nicely and neatly controlled. It is fluid, powerful, endless, as the oceans I love so much. Learning how to love like that is a work in progress for me.  It is astounding what I've held back from others because I did not understand the way that love is.  I raged against the wall only to discover that I'd built the dam with my own two hands, all by myself.  There's a confounding revelation.
      Another lesson is learning to deal with everything as it comes, instead of pretending it does not exist, as has been my modus operandi for a long while.  This behavior has excluded me from the very world at large... known, unknown, wanted, unwanted, and I've missed more than I could ever express. I have a passion for life that is boundless within certain bounds.  That paradox cuts off so much possibility. I want boundless passion for life... period. I don't want to miss anything. Ever.      
    

I hope that this year has found you well and successful in every way. Healthy, strong, and happy. I hope you've realized dreams and goals, and I hope you have new ones shining in the distance of days to come.

Happy New Year

Monday, November 8, 2010

Dear, Dear Diary

Dear, Dear Diary,

Let's do this today, because we need to do this today.  Let's come up with 5 Things What Are Good, as our Dearest Jon used to do. 

1. Trying BIG new things which necessitate one jumping feet first into the OMIGOSH-I-HAVEN'T-EVER-NEVER-THOUGHT-I-COULD-DIDN'T-THINK-I-EVER-WOULD-BUT-I'M-GONNA-DO-IT-ANYWAY-OMIGOSH pool.  It's deep in here, and I like it.




2. Very grateful for dear friends & family who are always there to support, love, encourage and believe in me. I cannot imagine where I would be without you. 



 

3. Stash White Christmas White Tea.  O.M.G.  This is my new favorite tea of the season. I don't like peppermint, but I LOVE this tea.  YUM.  If you could put a snowy Christmas morning in a mug and drink it, this is what it would taste like.



4. The last truly warm day of fall on a Monday, following a weekend that could have been stolen out of late June... right before the first snow of the fall.




5. Seeing each new day as an opportunity to grow.


Friday, November 5, 2010

Momentary Pause For A Trainwreck

Normally I only post quality material on this blog.

I'm going to make an exception today because Halloween just didn't scare me enough and one of my friends directed me to a very scary website; a recommendation which just may have earned him a smack in the back of the head.

As with any trainwreck, it's one of those seriously disturbing things that draws you in and you just can't look away, even when you know you should.

Fair warning & disclaimer given.  Welcome to People of Walmart.com.  Don't eat or drink anything while you are at this site; it will not end well.

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

It is astounding to me that people like this exist on our planet, and may I just say how grateful I am that so far our paths have not crossed often. Sometimes there are just no words... and yet, somehow, the commentator on this website is witty enough to find a fitting & oftentimes humorous caption for every single photo.

If you click on the photo tab, be sure you scroll down each page... you won't believe what you'll see. 

Here are some of the more TAME demo shots from the site... Don't say we didn't warn you:












Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Wordless Wednesday

Friday, May 28, 2010

Mike The Headless Chicken

I really wish I was kidding about this one.
Let's go back to September 10th, 1945 in the very small rural town of Fruita, Colorado.  Lloyd Olsen's wife, Clara, sends him out to kill a chicken for dinner.   Lloyd fells the axe on the chicken's neck.  The head comes off and the chicken, oblivious to the loss of his head, keeps right on going about his bird business.  When Lloyd found him alive and well, sans head, the next morning, he decided to let the bird live and fed him with an eye dropper to keep him going.  

They named him Mike and Mike became so famous that for the remaining 18 months of his headless life, he hit celebrity status; he even wound up in both Time and Life Magazine.


 


That celebrity status became legend and now there is an annual Mike the Headless Chicken festival in Fruita, during the third weekend of May.  The festival features a lawn mower race, chicken dance contest, eating contests, chicken games (like pin the head on the chicken and an egg toss), 5k run, a car show and a 'Good Egg' award, among several other interests.   

If you would like to know more about it, he has his own website:

Alternate titles for this post:
the afterlife of a chicken
it just wouldn't die
and in other news... chicken defies death
axe me again
life after death
stranger than fiction

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Wordless Wednesday


Monday, March 22, 2010

Therapy ~ Bring It On

We are waist deep in March Madness. I have a new theory. The name "March Madness" refers to the insanity of so many games in so little time, as well as the frustration that consumes a person as their brackets begin to resemble target practice at close proximity.




It is also my belief that the Ides of March came late this year; instead of the annual date of March 15th when a disbelieving Caesar was assassinated (stabbed to death in the senate) by 60 co-conspirators, it came during March when a disbelieving nation watched UNI beat Kansas.



I've decided to use my brackets as floor mats in my car; I'll get more use out of them.













I still have 3 teams in the final four, so we'll see how it goes.










Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Baby Got Back


I was driving a girl of 14 through town one day and we were listening to the Charlie's Angel's soundtrack. Sir Mix A Lot's "Baby Got Back" came on and I immediately changed it to the next song as I believed that a 14 year old should not hear the inuendo-laden lyrics of "Baby Got Back" (...my anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hon). She scoffed and said she knew every word, turned the song back on and proceeded to prove her point to me.

When the song ended, she announced resolutley that she was going to get butt implants when she turned 18.

I almost drove off the road. "Aren't you happy with what the Lord gave you?" I asked in amazement.

Her answer was a wide-eyed heavenward gaze with hands folded solemnly under her chin and in an authentic British accent she asked, "Please Sir, may I have some more?"


I wasn't able to drive after that.
O.o

Friday, December 18, 2009

Traveling Tails ~ Boston

Viaggiatore, Mr. Black and I have returned from Boston with several photos, some nice postcards, and some more memories tucked into our pockets. We visited for 4 days and squeezed in quite bit of fun...

Highlights~
Museum of Fine Arts
Harry Potter Exhibition at Museum of Science
Guitar Hero Laser Show at Museum of Science
Boston Ballet ~ Nutcracker
Afternoon Tea at the Plaza
Chinatown
Coffee shops
Charles St.
The Freedom Trail
Revere Beach (Atlantic Ocean)
Mike's Pastry Shop & Hanover St.
Cheers (both)
Boston Symphony
Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum


Tails~

We had three hotel rooms in four nights. The sink leaked in the first one, the second one was a handicapped room with a drive in shower that resembled a locker room and there were teenagers a few rooms down who were seriously committed to hallway races at 3:30 in the morning. After a brief discussion with the management, we were put into a very nice room on the executive level for the last two nights.

We walked over the better part of Boston, taking it all in and enjoying it, but none of the walks was quite as good as the late night walk through a downpour rain under a shared umbrella. It was a bit of a long walk as I'd directed our path several blocks left when we should have gone one block to the right... but it was still very nice.

On the train to the Boston Symphony, I'd been sitting next to a rather shabby looking young man (whom Mr. Black is certain was a gang member), and when his stop came, he stood to get off the train and motioned with his head for me to follow him. I was shocked and tried my very best not to erupt in hysterical laughter. The boy was quite serious. He tried to convince me, without words, but to no avail, so he finally gave up and left me there with Mr. Black.

Mr. Black took over the Navigator duties after I discovered we'd been on the wrong train for half an hour; en route to the Museum of Fine Arts. Oops.

We drank 6 pots of different teas at our Afternoon Tea at the Plaza and visited with their resident tea sommelier, Cynthia Gold, who is a wealth of information on one of my favorite beverages and a wonderful lady.

I loved leaving footprints in the sand on Revere Beach, and slipping some pretty shells into my pocket, to touch when I am aching for the sea.

The rest of the stories will be saved for another day. It was a very nice trip, indeed.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Another Brief Interblued!

Before...
Those crazy kids at the University of Rochester Medical Center have found a new healing power for spinal injuries! The blue dye that can be found in M&M's and Gatorade. Apparently, when introduced into the body immediately after a spinal injury, it blocks the effects of ATP (Adenosine triphosphate) which hinders the bodies ability to heal. Great news!
There's just one side effect... it turns the lab rats blue. Temporarily.
Sing the Blue Rat Blues with me now...

After!


True Story!! Read all about it at CNN!


Wednesday, July 1, 2009

A Brief Interlude ~ With A Katana

Congratulations to Rel of Under The Microscope! He won the latest point in the Wandering Games! There will be a new location up this afternoon... come back and play!

In the interim, here's a head turner for your entertainment:

A Sword Wielder Robs Walgreens In Glendale (as published in the Denver Post) ~

GLENDALE — A 19-year-old man held up a Walgreens in Glendale with a sword Tuesday evening.
He ran off with a cache of the painkiller Oxycontin, but he was chased down by police about a hundred yards away, according to authorities.
The man's name wasn't released pending his booking, said Glendale police Sgt. Joe Silla.
The red-haired teen, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, wielded a Samurai-style sword during the 6:30 p.m. holdup, Silla said.

You know times are rough when a kid resorts to holding up a Walgreens with a sword for painkillers.

Truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Walking Through Echoes Of The Past

There will be quite a bit of metaphorical reference in this one. Suspend your disbelief for a bit and walk with me on this incredible journey.

~SCOTLAND~

The purpose of the trip was to trace my family's history and heritage back as far as I could, to photograph and document the lands and places that they existed in, to reach back through time and history and make a connection that all my living family and our children's children could keep; so that our past will never be lost again. It's important to know where we came from.

Paris was en route, and it was so lovely... it was a beautiful dream. Scotland was an entirely different world.

We arrived late in the night and traveled by bus from the airport into the dark city. We might have been in a time traveling vehicle, as it seemed to be an anachronism; the only thing from this century that we could see in the world around us. Old stone walls and buildings, dim street lamps, narrow lanes and round-abouts, a winding twisting ride that eventually brought us to the center of the city, at the feet of an enormous fortress that loomed over us and glowed like a beacon in the blackness; Edinburgh Castle.

Morning's light found us in our bed and breakfast; a large old stone house, kept by a very kind couple. The city morphed into a slightly more modern machine during the day. We were served (every morning for the duration of the trip), a "Full Scottish Breakfast" which consists of sausage, an enormous slab of ham, eggs, cut tomatoes, sauteed mushrooms, red beans, cereal/porridge, fruit, toast (more toast?), and haggis & black pudding (if we were so inclined, and we were not), with coffee, juice, and tea. It is delicious, it is monstrously huge, it is serious protein, and a heart attack on a plate. We loved it!

We got our car after breakfast... the steering wheel is on the right side (passenger side in the states) of the car. It was a standard transmission; 5 speed, so fifth gear and reverse are next to the drivers left knee. I did all the driving. It was a bit terrifying unnerving, getting back to the B&B from the rental car place, where I needed to gather my wits before driving off all over the country. Mr. Black was an excellent co-pilot. I don't know how I'd have made it around without his patience and assistance. I did get the hang of it, after the second day, and it became fun then!
Our goals in focus, maps and plans at the ready, we took off to delve back hundreds and hundreds of years into the history of my forebears.

Our first priority was Scone Palace, where a special tribute to the Royal Stewart family was being performed. I must take a moment to thank Miss Pamela Lawrence from Scone Palace, without whose invaluable aide, we'd have had a much more difficult time. She has earned a sainthood from us for her kindness and extremely helpful advice.
Scone Palace is where the Kings of Scotland were crowned, at a little stone seat (the Stone of Destiny) in front of a tiny chapel. The chapel and the Stone of Destiny (or rather, a replica of it), are still there.

I sat on the stone, in the place where four of my great-grandfathers were crowned Kings of Scotland, and it was a humbling, reverent experience. I gazed out over the castle grounds and at the walls of the castle; where they looked, where they walked, where they stayed briefly. My feet rested on the ground that they stood on. Time began to fade then, and with every breath the shadows clouding the centuries between us evaporated like the Scottish fog burning off in the light of day.

The air in Scotland is cool and damp, and strange as it may seem, it is invigorating. We were both filled with an excited energy that ignited a love in us for this country and its people that will never fade. The fog and rain come and go as do the tides that wash up on the shores there. The sun plays hide and seek, and just when you think it's gone, it dances out gloriously scintillating and colors the air with rainbows.

I felt the thickness of time around me; like it hadn't gone anywhere at all, it just kept happening and filling space around the land, without end. Every place that we went and every step that I took felt like walking through ages where there was no barrier to separate them from each other and from me as I made my way in and through those moments.

We visited some new friends in Peebles and had a wonderful, albeit much too brief, time with them. They showed us Melrose Abbey, where the heart of King Robert the Bruce is buried. He told his men when he died, to carry his heart to the holy land as they joined the crusades and to bury it there in the holy temple, but the quest failed and his men brought his heart back to Scotland and there it lies now, in the quiet green ground under the towering ruins of Melrose Abbey. I knelt at the monument over my great-grandfathers heart, and 18 generations & 680 years fell away like leaves in the fall. My hands on the monument, I thought of the heart that lay beneath it, and of the man to whom it belongs. My heart pushes his blood through my body. I exist because he did. I breathed in the air around me as well as the endless moment, suspended as it was, in time.

Melrose Abbey is amazing, it is beautiful, and it is enormous; I tried to imagine what it looked like before it was destroyed by humanity and the ages. It is sacred to me for the simple reason that it holds such a precious part of my ancestry.

From Melrose, we went on to Flodden Field. Our friends told us, Scarlett, it is but a field... in the middle of nowhere... really, it's just a field. I know, I said with a smile, but I have to go, it's part of the journey. Another of my great-grandfathers died in battle there; Duncan Campbell. I must go. And we went.

Flodden Field is in England. Crossing the Scottish and English border is much like crossing a state line in the US. There's a small sign, and by small I mean maybe 3 feet by 4 feet. 'You are now entering England'. Flodden Field, site of the Battle of Flodden, is tucked away down an old winding country dirt road, one that twists and bends past farms and meadows and the odd fence. There is a tiny old country church at the base of the hill. At the top of the hill is a concrete Celtic cross, probably about 6 feet tall, maybe a little more. We parked and walked through a narrow wooden gate to the stairs that lead up to the top of the hill.

It is a field, and then it is absolutely not at all. Standing there in the clean, quiet country breeze, we could see all the world around us, and the dirt and grass at our feet. We could feel the peace that is there now, blanketing the sounds of battle that seem to echo just out of reach... the shouts of men, the clang of armour and weapons, the cries of desperation... how much blood spilled into that soil? The blood of 12,000 men; one of them another reason that I am alive and was standing where he had fallen. I wondered what he might have thought on his last day, marching across that land, wondering if he would live or die. How powerful that must have been... every sense heightened, every emotion racing through every fiber of his being at it's utmost capacity... and then it was lost, all of it, and he was gone.
The loss of life there and the ensuing peace is tangible. It can be felt through the body, mind, and soul, it can be sensed in the air and on the wind. I will never, ever forget what it felt like to be there.

We visited Stirling Castle, which is now a tourist stop overlooking Bannockburn Field, where a larger war was fought by my great-grandfather King Robert the Bruce, and where, just on the other side of the field, the Wallace monument looks on the castle. Stirling is a fortress, just like Edinburgh Castle. High on a hill, almost impenetrable... they really knew how to build them back then. It is the jewel of the city, rising above it all. It is very well kept up, and has seen changes over the centuries since my grandfathers walked through its halls.

Edinburgh Castle is much the same as Stirling; so very old a structure but one that is updated and hosts throngs of sightseers every day. There are hints and remnants of my family's history here and there; emblems of their coats of arms color the glass in the windows, and paintings of those arms adorn some of the walls. It is incredible to walk past the heavily guarded display of the crown, the kings sword, and the (possibly) real Stone of Destiny that are safely secured under glass and watchful eye. They are stunning, breathtaking in their strength, size, and grandeur. These are pretty artifacts in my mind, not a soul binding connection to the men that used them, and that connection is what I was after on this sojourn.

I found the most significant connection at Dunfermline Abbey. King Robert the Bruce's heart is buried in Melrose, but his body is buried at Dunfermline. It is also the place where my favorite great-grandfather, King James I of Scotland was born. Again I knelt, this time at the foot of my great-grandfather's tomb. It is a beautiful tomb made of red marble background, inlaid with his image in shining gold. There is a little plaque there, requesting... 'please do not touch'. I did so much more than touch. Just as it was at Melrose, every shroud between us vanished, and there we were, the two of us; he and I... seeming to regard each other in this space without walls, without boundaries or confines or laws of time and place. It was surreal, it was breathtaking and inexplicable.

Mr. Black and I visited many places in Edinburgh, including The Elephant House where JK Rowling began Harry Potter's life, and the Balmoral Hotel where she ended the tale. We had a fantastic time dancing at the coolest club I've ever been in, Frankenstein's, next door to The Elephant House. We were dumbfounded that we could not seem to find a Scottish restaurant for dinner anywhere in the country! They are big on foreign food; we had Chinese two nights, Mexican one night, Indian one night, and a delicious version of chic American one night. We filled up on the full Scottish breakfast every morning though, so it kind of worked out.

We spent one night at our new favorite bed & breakfast, just up the coast in Stonehaven, because I wanted to sleep by the sea. We were about 10 feet from the sand and waves, I couldn't have been closer unless I'd been in a boat. This was a perfect place to stay, our hosts there were absolutely delightful and so sweet that we didn't want to leave at all. We loved the little seaside town, with its cobblestone streets and old stone buildings. The ocean mist on our skin and the salt of the sea on our lips was delicious. We stood on our patio in the dark of night with a blanket wrapped around us for warmth against the storm that was tossing the sea into a tempest, and watched the swelling waves crash into the rocks and shore for a long while. I spoke Edgar Allen Poe's poem, Annabel Lee, and I'd have stayed the entire night out in the misty fog, hypnotized by the pulsating tide, if Mr. Black hadn't gently urged me back into our room.

When our plane lifted off from Edinburgh airport and flew over the lands end where the Atlantic Ocean washes its shores, I wept. Mr. Black and I both wanted nothing more than to stay there in that lovely country filled with the very kindest souls, daffodils as far as the eye could see, cool misty air, old castles and ages upon ages of history... but reality insisted that we come back here, where we can dream about that other world when we sleep, and find ourselves back in the arms and heart of that country again.

Monday, January 5, 2009

2008 ~ A Year In Review

This is unforgivably long... I know.

But, it is *HYSTERICALLY FUNNY* and I had no choice but to post it. I cannot withhold laughter like this from others.

Technical Warning!!
Do NOT eat or drink anything while reading this!
FTSOIAR is not responsible for any injury to self, others, or any equipment, which may occur as a result of reading this post!

Enjoy!
Get tissue... you'll be laughing that much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave Barry Year in Review: Bailing out of 2008
BY DAVE BARRY


How weird a year was it?
Here's how weird:

• O.J. actually got convicted of something.

• Gasoline hit $4 a gallon -- and those were the good times.

• On several occasions, Saturday Night Live was funny.

• There were a few days there in October when you could not completely rule out the possibility that the next Treasury Secretary would be Joe the Plumber.

• Finally, and most weirdly, for the first time in history, the voters elected a president who -- despite the skeptics who said such a thing would never happen in the United States -- was neither a Bush NOR a Clinton.

Of course not all the events of 2008 were weird. Some were depressing. The only U.S. industries that had a good year were campaign consultants and foreclosure lawyers. Everybody else got financially whacked. Millions of people started out the year with enough money in their 401(k)'s to think about retiring on, and ended up with maybe enough for a medium Slurpee.

So we can be grateful that 2008 is almost over. But before we leave it behind, let's take a few minutes to look back and see if we can find some small nuggets of amusement. Why not? We paid for it, starting with . . .

JANUARY

. . . which begins, as it does every four years, with presidential contenders swarming into Iowa and expressing sincerely feigned interest in corn. The Iowa caucuses produce two surprises:

• On the Republican side, the winner is Mike Huckabee, folksy former governor of Arkansas or possibly Oklahoma, who vows to remain in the race until he gets a commentator gig with Fox. His win deals a severe blow to Mitt Romney and his bid to become the first president of the android persuasion. Not competing in Iowa are Rudy Giuliani, whose strategy is to stay out of the race until he is mathematically eliminated, and John McCain, who entered the caucus date incorrectly into his 1996 Palm Pilot.

• On the Democratic side, the surprise winner is Barack Obama, who is running for president on a long and impressive record of running for president. A mesmerizing speaker, Obama electrifies voters with his exciting new ideas for change, although people have trouble remembering exactly what these ideas were because they were so darned mesmerized. Some people become so excited that they actually pass out. These are members of the press corps.

Obama's victory comes at the expense of former front-runner Hillary Clinton, who fails to ignite voter passion despite a rip-snorter of a stump speech in which she recites, without notes, all 17 points of her plan to streamline tuition-loan applications.

The instant the caucuses are over the contenders drop Iowa like a rancid frankfurter and jet to other states to express concern about whatever people there care about.

Meanwhile George W. Bush, who is still technically the president, visits the Middle East and finds things over there just as confusing as ever.

In sports, LSU wins the national college football championship, easily defeating the Miami Dolphins.

Finally, in what some economists see as a troubling sign, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac invest $12.7 billion in Powerball tickets.

The worsening economy takes center stage in . . .

FEBRUARY

. . . when, amid much fanfare, Congress passes, and President Bush signs, an ''economic stimulus package'' under which the federal government will give taxpayers back several hundred dollars apiece of their own money, the idea being that they will use this money to revive the U.S. economy by buying TV sets that were made in China. This will seem much more comical in the fall.

The battle between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton heats up as the two engage in a series of increasingly hostile debates, including one in which Secret Service agents have to tackle a large, angry, red-faced man who bursts from the audience shouting incoherently. This turns out to be Bill Clinton, who is swiftly dispatched by his wife's campaign to work his magic on voters in the crucial Guam caucuses.

On the Republican side, John McCain emerges as the front-runner when Mitt Romney drops out of the race, citing ``motherboard issues.''

Abroad, Fidel Castro steps down after 49 years as president of Cuba, explaining that he wants to spend more time decomposing. In selecting his successor, the Cuban National Assembly, after conducting an exhaustive nationwide search, selects Fidel's brother, Raúl, who narrowly edges out Dennis Kucinich.

In sports, the undefeated New England Patriots lose the Super Bowl to the New York Giants in a stunning upset that confounds the experts, not to mention Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, which had $38 billion on the Pats to win.

Speaking of losers, in . . .

MARCH

. . . New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer becomes embroiled in an embarrassing scandal when a criminal investigation reveals that he looks like a large suit-wearing rodent. Also he has been seeing a high-class prostitute known as ''Kristen'' in a Washington, D.C., hotel. Spitzer resigns in disgrace; ''Kristen,'' hounded by the press and no longer able to pursue her profession, receives a $23 billion bailout from the federal government.

In politics, Barack Obama addresses the issue of why, in his 20 years of membership in Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, he failed to notice that the pastor, Jeremiah Wright, is a racist lunatic. In a major televised address widely hailed for its brilliance, Obama explains that . . . OK, nobody really remembers what the actual explanation was. But everybody agrees it was mesmerizing.

Obama's opponent, Hillary Clinton, gets into a controversy of her own when she claims that, as first lady, she landed in Bosnia ''under sniper fire.'' News outlets quickly locate archive video showing that she was in fact greeted with a welcoming ceremony featuring an 8-year-old girl reading a poem. Clinton's campaign releases a statement pointing out that it was ``a pretty long poem.''

On the Republican side, John McCain wraps up the nomination and embarks on a series of strategic naps.

On Wall Street, J.P. Morgan buys Bear Stearns; nobody really understands what this means, but it is clearly bad. Abroad, the dollar declines to the point where currency traders are using it solely for wiping up spills. Both Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac apply to be contestants on Deal Or No Deal.

In environmental news, Earth Hour is observed on March 29, when cities around the world display their commitment to conserving energy by turning out their lights for one hour. When the lights come back on, Detroit is missing.

In sports, the troubled Olympic torch becomes embroiled in a protest riot in Athens; witnesses claim the torch ''reeked of alcohol.'' In football, beloved Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre retires and embarks on a series of emotional farewell events, several of which are still going on when he signs to play for the Jets.

Speaking of emotional, in . . .

APRIL

. . . tensions run high in the Pennsylvania Democratic primary, which all the experts agree is extremely crucial. Barack Obama gets into trouble with rural voters for saying that rural Americans are ''bitter'' and ''cling to guns or religion.'' Responding to charges that this statement is elitist, Obama responds: ``You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy.''

Seeking to capitalize on Obama's gaffe, Hillary Clinton starts channeling Annie Oakley, tossing down shots of whiskey and talking about her love of guns and hunting. After one particularly long day on the trail, she grabs a Secret Service agent's pistol and attempts to shoot a deer; instead she wounds a reporter, thereby sealing her victory in the Pennsylvania primary, which turns out to not actually be all that crucial because the Democratic race keeps right on going with no sign of ending in the current decade.

On the Republican side, John McCain gets wind of something called the ''Internet'' and orders his staff to give him a summary of it on index cards.

In economic news, the price of gasoline tops $4 a gallon, meaning the cost of filling up an average car is now $50, or, for Hummer owners, $17,500. Congress, responding to the financial pain of the American people, goes into partisan gridlock faster than ever before, with Republicans demanding that the oil companies immediately start drilling everywhere, including cemeteries, and Democrats calling for a massive effort to develop alternative energy sources such as wind, the sun, tides, comets, Al Gore and dragon breath, using technology expected to be perfected sometime this millennium. It soon becomes clear that Congress will not actually do anything, so Americans start buying less gasoline.

The economic news is also gloomy for the U.S. automotive industry, where General Motors, in a legally questionable move aimed at boosting its sagging car sales, comes out with a new model called ``The Chevrolet Toyota.''

In sports, the troubled Olympic torch punches a photographer while entering a San Francisco hotel at 3 a.m. with Lindsay Lohan.

Speaking of trouble, in . . .

MAY

. . . the International Atomic Energy Agency releases a report stating that Iran is actively developing nuclear warheads. In response, Iran issues a statement asserting that (1) it absolutely is not developing nuclear warheads, and (2) these are peaceful warheads. The United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Russia and China convene an emergency meeting, during which they manage, in heated negotiations, to talk France out of surrendering.

Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac invest $17 billion in an Herbalife franchise.

In presidential politics, the increasingly bitter fight for the Democratic nomination intensifies when Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton hold a televised debate, moderated by PBS anchor Jim Lehrer, that consists entirely of spitting.

On the Republican side, John McCain, preparing for the fall campaign, purchases a new necktie.

The big spring Hollywood hit is the film version of Sex and the City, which draws millions of movie-goers, including an estimated three men, two of whom thought they were in the theater for the fourth Indiana Jones movie, Indiana Jones Experiences Frequent Nighttime Urination. The riveting plot of Sex and the City, which runs for nearly two-and-a-half hours, involves the efforts of Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte to plan Carrie's wedding -- Finally! -- to ''Mr. Big,'' only to have things go awry when mutant vampire moles bore up through the church floor and suck the blood out of the wedding party through their feet.

In sports, both the Kentucky Derby and the Indianapolis 500 are won by Usain Bolt.

Speaking of victory, in . . .

JUNE

. . . Barack Obama finally claims the bitterly contested Democratic nomination when Hillary Clinton, behind on delegates and in debt to the tune of $25 million, including $9 million for hairspray alone, suspends her campaign and declares that she has ''no hard feelings'' and will do ''whatever it takes'' to help Obama get elected ''even though he is scum.'' Bill Clinton, at his wife's side, nods vigorously, but is unable to speak because of the restraining device. A gracious John McCain tells the press that he ''looks forward to a spirited debate with Sen. Mondale.'' Before he can take questions he is informed by his aides that he has an important meeting.

In other campaign-related news, Chicago developer Tony Rezko, a former Obama associate and fundraiser, is convicted on corruption charges, but the press realizes that this is not an issue after Obama explains that it is not an issue.

President George W. Bush takes one last official trip to Europe to meet with European leaders. Unfortunately they are not home.

In economic news, Chrysler announces a plan to lay off workers who have not been born yet. The lone economic bright spot is the iPhone, which is selling like crazy thanks to the release of a new model enhanced with the capability of sucking pieces of your brain out through your ear until all you want to do is play with your iPhone.

Speaking of vegetables, the big scare in June comes from the Food and Drug Administration, which announces that tomatoes are killing people. A wave of fear grips the nation as supermarket shoppers stampede from the produce section, causing several fatal shopping-cart mishaps. At the height of the panic, with the tomato industry reeling, the FDA declares that, oops, the killer might NOT be tomatoes, but some other vegetable, possibly jalapeño peppers, but nobody knows for sure. Eventually everyone calms down, but not before a bank in Cleveland is held up by a man wielding only a stalk of asparagus.

The scientific community is elated by NASA's announcement that the Phoenix lander has detected ice on Mars. The elation turns to concern when, several hours later, the lander detects a Zamboni machine.

Tiger Woods, in an epic performance, wins the U.S. Open playing on an injured and very painful knee, thereby proving, beyond all doubt, that golf is not a real sport.

Speaking of epic performances, in . . .

JULY

. . . Barack Obama, having secured North and South America, flies to Germany without using an airplane and gives a major speech -- speaking English and German simultaneously -- to 200,000 mesmerized Germans, who immediately elect him chancellor, prompting France to surrender.

Meanwhile John McCain, at a strategy session at a golf resort, tells his top aides to prepare a list of potential running mates, stressing that he wants somebody ''who is completely, brutally honest.'' Unfortunately, because of noise from a lawn mower, the aides think McCain said he wants somebody ''who has competed in a beauty contest.'' This will lead to trouble down the road.

Speaking of trouble, the economic news continues to worsen with the discovery that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac have sent $87 billion to a Nigerian businessman with a compelling e-mail story.

Also troubling is the news from Iran, which test-fires some long-range missiles, although Iranian President Wackjob Lunatic insists that Iran intends to use these missiles ``for stump removal.''

In sports, the government of China, in an effort to improve air quality for the Beijing Olympics, bans flatulence.

Speaking of Olympian, in . . .

AUGUST

. . . Barack Obama, continuing to shake up the establishment, selects as his running mate Joe Biden, a tireless fighter for change since he was first elected to the U.S. Senate in 1849. The Democratic Party gathers in Denver to formally nominate Obama, who descends from his Fortress of Solitude to mesmerize the adoring crowd with an acceptance speech objectively described by The New York Times as ``comparable to the Gettysburg Address, only way better.''

Meanwhile John McCain, still searching for the perfect running mate, tells his top aides in a conference call that he wants ''someone who is capable of filling my shoes.'' Unfortunately, he is speaking into the wrong end of his cellular phone, and his aides think he said ''someone who is capable of killing a moose.'' Shortly thereafter McCain stuns the world, and possibly himself, by selecting Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, a no-nonsense hockey mom with roughly 114 children named after random nouns such as ``Hamper.''

In yet another troubling economic indicator, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac rob a liquor store.

Internationally, the big story is the Olympic games, which begin under a cloud of controversy when journalists in Beijing, who were promised unfettered Internet access by the Chinese government, discover that no matter what address they enter into their browsers, they wind up on Chairman Mao's Facebook page (he has 1.3 billion friends). But even the critics are blown away by the spectacular opening ceremony, which features the entire population of Asia performing the Electric Slide.

The games themselves are dominated by swimmer Michael Phelps, who wins eight gold medals, thus putting himself on a sounder financial footing than the U.S. Treasury. China wins the gold-medal count, although critics charge that some of China's 11-year-old female gymnasts are under the minimum age of 16. Chinese officials refute this charge by noting, correctly, that they have tanks.

Elsewhere abroad, war breaks out between Russia and Georgia over South Ossetia and Abkhazia, serving as a stark reminder that, in an increasingly uncertain world, we, as Americans, have no idea where these places are.

Speaking of uncertainty, in . . .

SEPTEMBER

. . . the Republican convention gets off to a tentative start in St. Paul when President Bush and Vice President Cheney are unable to attend, partly because of Hurricane Gustav, and partly because the organizers told them that the convention was in Atlanta. The mood improves when Sarah Palin dazzles the delegates with her winning smile, detailed knowledge of what is on the teleprompter, and spot-on imitation of Tina Fey. The next night, John McCain, formally accepting the nomination, pledges to run ''a totally incoherent campaign.'' None of this is reported in the media because the entire press corps is in Wasilla, Alaska, investigating rumors that Palin once dated a yeti.

But the presidential campaign is soon overshadowed by the troubled economy. The federal government is finally forced to take over Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac after they are caught selling crack at a middle school. But that is not enough, as major financial institutions, having lost hundreds of billions of dollars thanks to years of engaging in practices ranging from questionable to moronic, begin failing, which gives the federal government an idea: Why not give these institutions MORE hundreds of billions of dollars, generously provided by taxpayers?

This plan is discussed and debated in urgent meetings in Washington attended by the president, the cabinet, congressional leaders, Sen. Obama, Sen. McCain and all other concerned parties except the actual taxpayers, who are not invited because they are, with all due respect, way too stupid to understand high finance. The taxpayers are repeatedly assured, however, that unless they fork over $700 billion, the economy will go right down the toilet. And so it comes to pass that in . . .

OCTOBER

. . . Congress passes, and Technically Still President Bush signs, the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act of 2008, and everyone heaves a sigh of relief as the economy stabilizes for approximately 2.7 seconds, after which it resumes going down the toilet. As world financial markets collapse like fraternity pledges at a keg party and banks fail around the world, the International Monetary Fund implements an emergency program under which anybody who opens a checking account anywhere on earth gets a free developing nation. But it is not enough; the financial system is in utter chaos. At one point a teenage girl in Worcester, Mass., attempts to withdraw $25 from an ATM and winds up acquiring Wells Fargo.

As the crisis worsens, an angry Congress, determined to get some answers, holds hearings and determines that whoever is responsible for this mess, it is definitely not Congress. Meanwhile all the cable-TV financial experts agree that since they totally failed to predict this disaster, they will stop pretending they have a clue what the markets are going to do and henceforth confine themselves to topics they can discuss knowledgeably, such as what time it is.

Just kidding! They'd get that wrong, too.

The economy dominates the presidential campaign, with the focal point being ''Joe the Plumber,'' an Ohio resident who asks Barack Obama a mildly confrontational question about tax policy and within hours is more famous than the Dalai Lama. He draws intense scrutiny from the news media, which, using investigative reporters borrowed from the Palin-yeti beat, determine that ''Joe the Plumber'' is in fact (1) not named Joe, (2) not a plumber, (3) a citizen of Belgium, and (4) biologically, a woman.

In the presidential debates, John McCain, looking and sounding increasingly like the late Walter Brennan, cites Joe the Plumber a record 847 times while charging that Obama's tax policies amount to socialism. Obama, ahead of McCain by double digits in the polls and several hundred million dollars in money, skips the debates so he can work on his inaugural address. The New York Times declares his performance ``masterful.''

In non-economic news, a Las Vegas jury convicts O.J. Simpson on 12 counts of being an unbelievable idiot. He faces more than 60 years in jail, which could end his relentless quest to find the killer of the people he stabbed to death in 1994.

In sports, the entire nation rejoices as the World Series is won, yet again, by a team other than the New York Yankees.

Speaking of winning, in . . .

NOVEMBER

. . . Barack Obama, in a historic triumph, becomes the nation's first black president since the second season of 24, setting off an ecstatically joyful and boisterous all-night celebration that at times threatens to spill out of The New York Times newsroom. Obama, following through on his promise to bring change to Washington, quickly begins assembling an administration consisting of a diverse group of renegade outsiders, ranging all the way from lawyers who attended Ivy League schools and then worked in the Clinton administration to lawyers who attended entirely different Ivy league schools and then worked in the Clinton administration.

But the hopeful mood is dampened by grim economic news. The stock market plummets farther as investors realize that the only thing that had been keeping the economy afloat was the millions of dollars spent daily on TV commercials for presidential candidates explaining how they would fix the economy. As it becomes increasingly clear that the federal government's plan of giving hundreds of billions of dollars to dysfunctional companies has not fixed the problem, the government comes up with a bold new plan: give more hundreds of billions of dollars to dysfunctional companies. Soon the government is in a bailout frenzy, handing out money left and right, at one point accidentally giving $14 billion to a man delivering a Domino's pizza to the Treasury building.

More and more companies seek federal help, among them the troubled ''big three'' auto makers, whose chief executives fly to Washington in three separate corporate jets to ask Congress for $25 billion, explaining that if they don't get the money, they will be unable to continue making cars that Americans are not buying.

In space, NASA's woes continue when an astronaut attempting to repair the troubled multibillion-dollar international space station accidentally lets go of a special $100,000 space tool bag, which drifts away, taking with it the special $17,000 space washer needed to fix the station's special, but troubled, space toilet. NASA announces that it will now have to send up a special space plumber, who charges $38 million an hour.

In sports, New York Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress shoots himself in the thigh in a New York City nightclub, using a gun he carried to protect himself from bad things that might happen to him, such as getting shot.

Speaking of bad things, in . . .

DECEMBER

. . . the National Bureau of Declaring Things That Make You Go ''Duh'' declares that the nation has been in a recession since December of 2007. The bureau also points out that, according to its statistical analysis, ``for some time now, bears apparently have been going to the bathroom in the woods.''

The CEOs of the Increasingly Small Three auto makers return to Washington to resume pleading for a bailout, this time telling Congress that if they can reach an agreement that day, they will throw in the undercoating, the satellite-radio package AND a set of floor mats. ''We're actually LOSING MONEY on this deal!'' they assure Congress. Finally they reach a $13.4 billion agreement under which the car companies will continue to provide jobs, medical insurance and pension benefits, but will cease producing actual cars. The agreement will be overseen by the federal government, using its legendary ability to keep things on budget.

President-elect Obama, continuing to bring change in the form of fresh-faced Washington outsiders, announces that his secretary of state will be Hillary Clinton. The position of secretary of defense, currently held by Bush appointee Robert Gates, will be filled by Bush appointee Robert Gates. Responding to rumors that he also plans to retain Dick Cheney, Obama insists that he has tried to ask the vice president to leave, ``but nobody knows where he is.''

In other political news, federal authorities arrest Democratic Illinois Gov. Rod ''Rod'' Blagojevich after wiretaps reveal that he was . . . OK, that he was being the governor of Illinois. Everybody is very, very shocked. Meanwhile the recount in the extremely tight Minnesota Senate race between Norm Coleman and Al Franken is thrown into disarray with the discovery that more than 13,000 of the ballots were cast by residents of Palm Beach County, Fla.

But the economy remains the dominant issue, with retailers reporting weak holiday sales as many shoppers pass up pricier gifts such as jewelry and big-screen TVs in favor of toilet paper and jerky. As the year draws to a close, the president's Council of Economic Advisers warns that the current recession ''could spiral downward into a full-blown depression,'' leaving the U.S. with ``no viable economic option but to declare war on Japan.''

In another troubling note, U.S. intelligence sources report that Iran is developing ``a gigantic rocket-powered shoe.''

Adding to the year-end gloom is a congressionally appointed bipartisan commission on terrorism, which releases a troubling report asserting that there is an 80 percent chance that within the next two years, a major U.S. city will be struck, with devastating consequences, by ``an 18,000 mile-per-hour tool bag from space.''

The point is, if you have any money left, you should spend it soon.

And Happy New Year.