Elected officials

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State Senator Sues God
OMAHA, Neb -- State Senator Ernie Chambers is suing God. He says it to prove a point about frivolous lawsuits. ... Chambers lawsuit, which was filed on Friday in Douglas County Court, seeks a permanent injunction ordering God to cease certain harmful activities and the making of terroristic threats. The lawsuit admits God goes by all sorts of alias, names, titles and designations and it also recognizes the fact that the defendant is “Omnipresent”. In the lawsuit Chambers says he’s tried to contact God numerous times, “Plaintiff, despite reasonable efforts to effectuate personal service upon Defendant (“Come out, come out, wherever you are”) has been unable to do so.” The suit also requests that the court given the “peculiar circumstances” of this case waive personal service. It says being Omniscient, the plaintiff assumes God will have actual knowledge of the action.
Dear Nebraska. Please stop electing the loonies. Thank you.
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The Boy

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Dear Squirmy, It's been just over three weeks, but already, your mother and I can tell you a couple of things about your personality. A) You're loud and B) You like boobies. Ok, I'm down with the latter, my friend. But we've really got to talk about the first one. Seriously. I don't remember your big sister ever being this vocal at your age. That might be because I hadn't started writing about things yet and I've blocked those memories. Or it could be just that I'm getting older and more crotchety, and my tolerance for noise is going down commiserately. But, dude, I've been looking for your volume control for the last week without much success. Don't get me wrong: I'm not complaining about your crying. You don't actually do all that much of the wailing-gasping-sobbing thing. And when you do, you normally have a reason, like crap in your diaper, or desiring to renew your friendly aquaintance with a boob. But, son, I feel that someone needs to tell you the bare truth of the matter. And if it's not me, then I'm not sure who will. You're a grunter. Seriously. Last night you came along with us to parent's night at the Queen's School for Girls. And you decided that you wanted a snack. I whipped out a bottle one handed to top you up, and you had at it. And the whole time, you made noise like it was your first meal since being retrieved from the wolf family that had been raising you before you came to us. suck *grunt* suck *groan* suck *grunt* suck *sigh* suck *grunt* They're "quite fussy" at Queen's, my boy, and we've got to keep our public grunting to a minimum. But I'll gladly trade you a public grunting session if we can compromise on the 4 AM wake-up grunts. I've been happy enough when you fall asleep in the crook of my arm at night, and have wired my brain to preternatural stillness to avoid dropping you off the side of the bed. However, I can rely on you to start wriggling and grunting several times a night, sometimes in a signal that you are feeling a bit peckish. Or hot. Or cold. Or would like one of us Tall People to wipe your down-below. But about half the time, it's apparently because you felt like a good twenty minute grunting session was just what the hour called for. Trust me. It's not. Love, Daddy
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A box o' corned beefy-goodness

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Before the arrived to ooh and ahh over our latest tax exemption, our in-laws asked us what, if anything, we'd like them to bring from the States.

I didn't even have to think about it. "Corned beef."

And they knew exactly what I meant, and picked up a box load of the stuff. But a box of corned beef cans isn't exactly light, so they shipped it over in advance.

When you ship stuff overseas these days, you've got to complete a detailed inventory of the content. The postman looked at the label and cocked his eyebrow at me. "You can get corned beef here, you know."

Uh-uh. That stuff you get from Hormel couldn't put a finger on this. Palm Corned Beef isn't your normal corned beef. It's got chunks of real beef. And sunshine. And rainbows. And ground up unicorns. Or something. It's from New Zealand. Which is where the keep the unicorns. (that also means that by shipping it from California to the UK so that we could satiate our beefy-jones, each can has a carbon-footprint equivalent to the Oakland Hills forest fire)

I would offer to let you try some if you stop by my house, but having to ship it in from the states makes each can cost something like $16. (and worth every penny).

So get your own. You'll thank me for it.
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