I come from that earlier time in America when palm pilot was a nickname you recieved upon entering puberty! I was more than a palm pilot I was the palm Chuck Jager. Tom Wolfe wrote a book about me called The Right Hand Stuff. I was the only guy in my class hip enough to move to the European grip.

Only man is a narcissistic enough species to think that a highly evolved alien life force would travel across billions and billions of light-years- a group of aliens so intelligent, so insouciant, so utterly above it all, they feel no need whatsoever to equip their spacecraft with windows so that they can gaze out on all that celestial beauty-but then immediately upon landing, their first impulse is to get in some hick's ass with a flashlight.

Nervous? He's tighter than Pat Buchanan's sphincter muscle at a 4th of July soiree on Fire Island.

By and large, I think it should be a rule in the teacher employment manual that you can't go attend any event where if you took your classroom on a student field trip, they would summarily be obliterated. That should be rule No. 1.

The next time you get the urge to shut somebody up because they don't see the world exactly the same way you do, take a deep breath, get out your Bill of Rights, and count to the ten amendments.

Political Correctness is inverted McCarthyism.

I rant, therefore I am