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The Last WordIssue #467 August 2013

The price is wrong

My recent toy sorting escapade is still yielding hilarity. My memory has come alive to recall the travailsof the home version ofThe Price Is Right.

Decades ago, the popular game show put out a board game that bore little resemblance to the show. Forus, the price wasntright: When I was about 9 years old, my mom buyed this game at a yard saleI think it onlycost a nickelbut I dont think we ever played it. I remember sorting through the pieces as a youngster and

thinking the game wasnt very impressive. The parts were mostly just numbers in the Electric Company font onlittle pieces of paper. There were no loser horns, no contestants with a tube top that flew open, and no stonersbidding $420 on every item.

Maybe a couple years later, I hauled the game out of mothballs for some reason. It rested on the bluecarpet in the den, while I daily slogged through piles of homework and jammed to WCLU as it blared from theboom box propped against the bookshelf.

One dayas thePrice Is Rightgame leered at us from the floorthe predictable happened. A silent-but-deadly bunker blast wafted through the den. It was a trouser sneeze. A loominsky. A pooteroony. A backdoorbreeze. Somebody passed the gas! Then the even more predictable happened. Cries of accusation sprang upthroughout the room. Who ate too much beans? Who needs to inspect their drawers?

A family member pointed a finger at me. Always blame the youngest, right? (The dogs were younger, butthey must not have been in the room.) Scientists believe the average person releases 14 bunker blasts per day,

study says. I bet some mighty important people do it. Monarchs, presidents, judges, bishops, and baronessesprobably all do it hourly. But the idea of it actuallystinkingis another matter.

It wasnt me who generated this hovering stinker. And the logistics of the situation prevented me fromassigning blame to any other motile organism. So I did what any other normal, wise, industrious, intelligentperson in this situation would do. As I eyed the cardboard Price Is Rightbox, I noticed it featured a drawing of acontestant celebrating her winnings. She was standing in front of a famous pricing game along with a host wholooked nothing like Bob Barker, Dennis James, or anybody else who regularly hosted The Price Is Rightin thatera. The woman sported a goofy grin. The drawing looked something like this...

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It didnt lookmuch like that, of course. Im sure the copyright on the original hasnt expired yet. But youget the idea.

Sowhen I was confronted about the invisible cloud of flatulence that filled the denI pointed at thewoman on the Price Is Rightbox. It wasnt me, I said. It was her. After all, there had to be some reason shewas smiling. It couldnt have been because she just won a new car, a grandfather clock, and a box of Stove Top.Nope, it was because she let loose with a silent salute that had been fermenting in her intestines for many an hour.

After I blamed the Price Is Rightbox for the silent-but-deadly, I still fell victim to logisticsespeciallyafter I burst out laughing at my own sophisticated sense of humor. Logistics often were a problem. By logistics, Idont necessarily mean the possibility of another person choppin the cheese. It can also mean the reaction thatensues upon denying responsibility. Where I come from, flatulence is governed by a complicated code. The codeis so detailed that I could almost write a whole book on it. There are certain ways youre supposed to react whensomeone rips a biffer. And theres also supposed to be due process: No conviction without proof. Unfortunately,that safeguard was too often ignored by those who had no respect for the code.

Come on down!

Blame AdSense

Blame AdSense...Blame

AdSense...It seems that everythings

gone wrong since AdSense came

along... to the tune of Blame

Canada from South Park

After Googles AdSense notonly cheated me out of an untoldamount of blog revenues but alsoplaced me on a blacklist, guess whopays for their assholism? U! Thatswho!

Theres been a minor mutiny

among Last Word fans over the factthat I now sell my work instead ofgiving it away for free. Theirinsurrection is wholly justifiablethough I am not to blame.

But theres plenty of blameto go around. The most immediatedebtor is AdSense. As the proprietorof The Online Lunchpailmydurable leftist blogI placed ads onthe blog using AdSense, whichhelped put goodies on the table for

me. The quality of commentary on

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the Pail wasand still ismuch higher than that of the right-wing noise machine that pays most of its talkingheads millions a year even though theres no market justification for it. So its only fair that I raked in some real

dough in those days.Then BadSense yanked my account and refused to gimme

the reason. Their pretext was that my blog poses a risk ofgenerating invalid activity. But thats not a reason, because theydidnt say how. I wasnt clicking my own ads, and it couldnt havebeen that anywaybecause AdSense is engineered to make thisimpossible. The realreason they pulled my account was because ofmy political views. Period. Full stop. This was obvious almost right

awaybecause I couldnt find a single conservative blog that hadits AdSense account disabled.

Then Googlewhich owns AdSenserefused to pay methe ad revenues it still owed me. This despite the fact that thecontract I had signed earlier made it crystal clear that even if youraccount is pulled, you still get the money youve already earned.Not paying me also violates labor laws and the Constitutions ban oninvoluntary servitude. Furthermore, I dont even know how muchmoney AdSense stole, because I wasnt allowed to access myaccount. I also couldnt get a new account, because once yourebanned from AdSense, youre banned for life. Why would I even

wanta new account? So they could steal from me again?

Sometime later, I signed up with a different ad server. Thisworked for awhile, until these clowns set up a blank zone in myaccount without telling me, and then when it failed to get any traffic(because I didnt know it existed), they used that as an excuse todeactivate the ads on my blog. When I informed them that my blogads were improperly deactivated, they played dumb and acted as if itwasnt so.

They kept playing that babyish game until I realized whatthey were up to. This epiphany came when I repeatedly asked them toclose my account so I could collect my revenues, and the e-mails keptbouncing. So that was more money stolen.

Then I signed up for yet another ad server. They refused to

activate my account at all. When I signed up for a fourth server, theyrefused to send me the ad code for it.By that point, it was obvious AdSense had placed me on a

blacklist because of my political views. Theres simply no otherexplanation for being banned from 4 different ad services. Whiletheres probably a denial cult that insists I wasnt blackballed, peoplewho think know better. One of the surest ways to be blacklisted frommost activities that might lead to your advancement is to be a leftist.

If I wasnt blacklisted by the online advertising industry, Icould finance The Last Word with online ads. Then you wouldnthave to pay to read my keen insights. But why should I even have todo that, considering The Last Word was free and had no ads for 20

years? The phenomenon of politically motivated blacklisting onlyunderscores how much blame there is to go around. Why dont youtry finding a job in northern Kentucky when you have neither acollege degree nor a Republican Party membership card? If I wasntalso blackballed by a cabal of local employers because of mypolitical views, I could afford to give this zine away for free.

I started The Last Word in 1993, when I worked at thelibrary and had a career in broadcasting lined up. Congress dashedmy broadcasting future by passing the NAMBLA-backed 1996Telecommunications Actwhich killed jobs via media consolidation.I originally intended The Last Word to be free, because I didnt

expect a bunch of spoiled, unhinged fucks to legislate me out of my

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job and be cheered by The Media for it. (Recently someone on a website said radio went down the toilets in1996.)

A host of circumstances leads me to sell this zine instead of handing it out for freeand I had absolutelyno role in creating any of these circumstances. I willbe employed gainfully in some way or another until I ameither dead, elderly, or no longer ablebecause work and demanding fair compensation for it are part of my verynature. I agree that you shouldnt be the one payingbut what choice do I have? I dont do anything for thepurpose of getting rich. I do what I do to stay alive and live in harmony with nature. If I cared about getting rich, Iwouldnt continue to live in a county that lacks a functioning economy. Ive always wanted to use The LastWord as a force for good, not a cash cow.

Most zines are notfree. The Last Wordshouldbe free. But I refuse to accept blame for the fact that I

cant provide it for free. But feel free to insurrect against the idea of having to pay for this zine. Even that beatsthose on the right who blame me for my own history of poverty and attack me because I supposedly haventlearned how to make it under capitalism. To hear them tell it, capitalism is infallible, and if we fail, its our fault.

On the other hand, I still publish the Pail for free. If anything urgent comes up, this is where Ill post it...

http://onlinelunchpail.blogspot.com

Meanwhile, Ive joined the National Writers Union in case any scammers like AdSense try to stiff meagain.

One drawback of the new Last Word format is the difficulty of people accessing it without a bankaccount. Then again, it appears that any household will be able to get a debit card through the new Occupy MoneyCooperativeas long as that project doesnt go the way of Occupys main Facebook page.

This is just the latest story that shows how when somebodyin this case, AdSensefucks up, everybodyelse pays the price.

Microapartments costing macro money

When the press covers a new trend in a positive light, you know there has to be a catch. Somewhere downthe line, Americas corporate overlords must be Making Money off our backs. Again.

Microapartments are tiny apartmentsoften as smallas 150 square feetthat have been a mainstay in majorforeign cities and are now making their way to America.Theyre often marketed to individuals in urban areas who livealone.

Could you live in such a small space? If youre likeme, you can probably adapt. If microapartments were cheap,they might be a real innovation. But theyre not. They costmuch more to live in than a regular apartment did just a fewyears ago.

In San Francisco, one developer rents outmicroapartments for $1,600 a month. Who pays anywhereclose to that for even an average-sized apartment? Good gravy,I know hardly anyone who even makes $1,600 a month! Adeveloper in New York plans to charge over $2,000 a monthfor microapartments.

But one news site says of microapartments, The key

selling point is affordability. Thats a laugh and a half. It trulyis mind-numbing that any news outlet would say that with astraight face.

Another piece says most microapartment tenants havean annual income of below $35,000. So the rise ofmicroapartments truly is a form of price-gouging. People whocan least afford it are paying more and more to receive less andless.

The microapartment biz is jacking up housing costsand trying to tell people its a bargain. I guess they thinkpeople will believe anything. Whats especially mind-bogglingis how right-wingers who hate the poor are now trying to stop

microapartments in their neighborhoods because they think

http://onlinelunchpail.blogspot.com/http://onlinelunchpail.blogspot.com/

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theyre cheap enough to attract people who make less money than them.Indeed, land was once free. Look at what land costs now after centuries of unchecked land runs, corporate

monopolies, and other abuse.As far as Im concerned, developers can build microapartments to their little hearts desiresas long as

they dont overcharge to use them. Just dont expect me to pretend like its a bargain to pay $2,000 a month for anapartment thats the size of a walk-in closet.

Wowww-ee!

As our decades-long study of stinkage continues, its important to get to the heart of why nature created

stink.Stinking teaches us to avoid danger. When objects stink, it means keep your distance. The aroma might be

indicative of toxic chemicals or other poisons.A significant percentage of common items that people handle daily stink. Why some folks continue to

deal with these items so much is a mystery to me. My estimate of these individuals life expectancy is notoptimistic. For a while in my youth, I even developed a stink test. Upon acquiring a new possession, I often took awhiff of it and made a mental note of the odor that it produced. This practice took me into some interesting areasand led to some wild speculation about what these items were made of. Was my toy race car made of grass? Wasmy calculator made of feces?

There was a whole category of bad odors that had loomed large for many a year. It had differentsubspecies that would crop up from time to time. Its like how farts sometimes smell of rotten eggs, sometimes ofnatural gas, and sometimes of plain old fartinessbut either way, its still a fart. The source of the indescribable

smell that Im talking about could occasionally be pinpointed, but at othertimes it was a mystery. Smelling a fart actually would have been preferable(and funnier).

When I was a youngster, this funk would sometimes fill thekitchen while I was eating lunch. My folks must have known about it, but Iguess I wasnt supposed to say anything. The stench was powerful. Iremember declaring, Wowww-ee! Something stinks in here! Thewowww-ee! was inspired by the yee-haw! popularized by The DukesOf Hazzardand by Billy Joels yelp at the end of his song Its Still Rock& Roll To Me. I kept looking under the table to try to locate the source ofthe smell. And my mom got mad! She scolded, Tim, eat your food andstop complaining.

Also in that era, I detected a variant of this reprehensible scent inthe waiting room of an eye doctors office. I dont have the foggiest cluewhere it was coming from. I kept grumbling about it for many reasonsnot the least of which was because there were places Id rather be on a raresunny day. It seemed so unfair. The sky was clear, the air outside was crisp,and I was holed up at an eye doctor appointment breathing who-knows-what.

Im smelling it nowfor the first time in years!Once in high school, the classroom was plagued by a gag-inducing chemical stink. The doings of yours

truly were drawn to a standstill. Other subordinates to the schools totalitarian order surely endured the sameeffects. But some schoolmates appeared oblivious to the insufferable bouquet. Perhaps they lacked the biologicalsophistication to process it. They were mere machines in a world of advanced organisms.

And dont even get me started on the variety of revolting odors that have plagued fast food restaurantslately.

Can stink be avoided 100% of the time? Of course not. But companies that produce everyday items havegot a lot to learn about this phenomenon. The goal shouldnt be reducing stink but the toxins that create it.

Wowww-ee!

The displeasure principal

One saving grace about shaking you down to read this zine instead of giving it away for free like I used tois that now I have freedom. Freedom to edify you with the tribulations of the many offensive characters Ive metin life without having to worry too much that theyll read it. Do you really think people who despise everything Istand for are going to put money in my pocket?

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Oh, Ive exposed several school administrators over the years, even when this zine was free. Theydeserved it. And everything I said about them was true. But now Ive noticed that another has spent his retirementproving to the world what a ghastly and judgmental man he is.

This bloke is well-known in the Campbell County Schools and he was my principal briefly. Ill neverforget the time he bawled me out in his office, whisked his board of education out from next to his desk, andthreatened to paddle me back to the Stone Age if I ever got sent to his office again. Eventually I brainwashedmyself into thinking that maybejust maybeI actually deserved to be yelled at. (Threatening corporalpunishment though was a little extreme.)

And maybejust maybethe principal was a respectable guy deep down. Yes, we all know the CampbellCounty Schools are a wholly owned subsidiary of the Heritage Foundation, and I suffered a campaign of personal

destruction carried out largely by another administrator at the same school. But sometimes you have to givepeople the benefit of a doubt. Ive known for years that my former principal was involved in local Republicanpolitics, but that wasnt a surprise, considering the school systems leanings.

But in recent months Ive finally learned that my former principal is a sick, sick man. I happened tostumble upon his Facebook page. It would beuproariousif it wasnt for the fact that hewas granted responsibility for educatingthousands of Campbell Countys youngpeople. He may look like Bob Taft, but hisstatements make him sound like EvanMecham. His Facebook page was filledalmost entirely with embarrassing right-wing

vitriol that would have seemed downrightunpublishable outside the 104th Congress. Atleast hes smart enough that now hes limitedaccess to his Facebook timeline to justmembers of his friends listbut not untilafter I saw it.

I bet he would lose a lot of respectfrom former students if they saw what heposts. Its that bad. All he does is rant andrave about the big, mean, liberal world hedoesnt understand.

I think its safe to say theres at least

2 demographic groups he doesnt like:Muslims and the poor. For a while he wastouting a movie that blamed Muslims forAmericas slave trade. Later I noticed he wasspreading the tired old Facebook memepromoting warrantless drug testing of welfare

recipients. This gimmick was pumped up by the Tea Party and the Republican National Committee on Facebookseveral years ago, butas with the deceptive FairTaxOccupy pretty much knocked the wind out of its sails.

I dont remember the Campbell County Schools having many Muslims, but it certainly had lots of poorpeople. What does it say about the school system when it hires a principal who has such a negative attitudetowards so many students? What does the public think about a school that hires a principal who openly spewsinvective against people because of their religion or economic class?

It doesnt do his reputation any favors that hes a member of a certain Facebook group titled Republicansof our GREAT Commonwealth of Kentuckywhich is full of racist propaganda and birther garbage.My former principal is ridiculous. If hed instead visited Kmart, microwaved all the light bulbs, and

smeared Krazy Glue on his glasses in view of dozens of shoppers, this story would be no more ridiculous. (AndIm sure hell do that too!) This ranks right up there with that principal in Texas who kept calling studentscommunists or that police chief in Pennsylvania who made the videos where he threatens to start a civil war.

It gets crazier. Can you believe this guy is now on the board of TANK, our local bus system? Why shouldsomebody who spreads so much prejudice even be on a publicly appointed board? Not like its that surprising,because local officials keep appointing Tea Party members to various public boards just for the askingevenwhile the Tea Party attacks those who appointed them as liberals.

Hate to have to tell it like it is, but this is the way it wafts. Show me one damn thing in this article thats alie. You cant. When you see a professional educator behaving this way, its no wonder nobody trusts our

education system.

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Scribblings about the Scribble Pad

The Scribble Pad plot thickens!I was utterly tickled to rescue a Scribble Pad during my recent toy sort, decades after I thought it had been

consigned to the refuse pile. Theres a story behind this pad of letter-sized paper. Back in 2001, The Last Wordfeatured an article that contrasted the Scribble Pad with oaptaga type of thick, expensive paper that got ruinedin 5th grade when some classmates drew pictures of He-Man, Mr. T, and G.I. Joe all over it. This story describedoaptag as the Rolls Royce of paper. The Scribble Pad though was cheaper stuff. We each got a Scribble Pad inkindergarten or 1st grade, and when we did, I vented my boredom with the education system by wasting my

Scribble Pad by writing a number smack-dab in the middle of each sheet using an indelible pen.A few years later, my mom matter-of-factly told me that she had thrown my Scribble Pad in the garbage.

She said something like, I threw out that Scribble Pad. It didnt have anything except a number on each page.My heart sank.

For 30 years, I lived in despair. Until recently when I unearthed what appeared to be that very ScribblePad. Then I discovered that I may have simply misremembered it wrong (as a certain right-wing politician wouldsay). The pad does indeed have a number on most pages. But its in the corner of the page, and its in pencil.Looking more closely, it appears that its not even my handwriting.

Were there actually 2 Scribble Pads? Was one ruined more spectacularly than the other and ended upbeing thrown away while only this one survives? I fear yes.

I can just picture what youre saying right now: I spend 99 copper cartwheels a month on this guys zine,and all he does is go on and on about his stupid Scribble Pad. I know your day is divided into tight 15-minute

blocks and you dont have time to read about Scribble Pads all day anyway.But heres some food for thought. The first number in a counting sequence is 1. The number that comes

after 1 is 2. Then comes 3. Then theres 4, which Sesame Street usually draws differently than in the standardSesame Streetfont that the Weston Art Gallery seems to use. After that is 5. Then 6. And then 7. Personally I havenothing against 7, but I always get hung up on dividing numbers by 7. But somewhere along the line is 150. TheScribble Pad purports to possess 150 sheets. I just distilled 150 pages of numbers into a single paragraph! Youshould be glad!

If only I can find my drawing of the Wolleyan anatomically correct yellow monster that Idreamed upthen were all set.

Grover bastesGrover bastes.Indeed he does.He beats his meat. He yanks his FlightSim

yoke. He pulls out his fiddle and rosins up his bow.I am of course referring to Grover the lovable

Sesame StreetMuppet. And hes the subject of one ofseveral funny TV clips Ive found on YouTube for youto examine.

Back in 2010, The Online Lunchpaildiscussed a Sesame Street segment in which Grover

appeared to be masturbating. This was so importantthat it had to be mentioned on a political blog at theheight of a midterm election campaign...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K5PHakJwz0

Pay attention to the Grovemeister one minute into that clip. Yep, thats right! Hes polishin the ol trophy!Boing boing boing boing boing...Hahahahaha.

I guess its a good thing he ordered too many underpants!Whats really entertaining is when a commercial hits the airwaves thats hilarious without intending to be.

Ive stumbled upon an ad for Dennys restaurants dated 1981 in which the voiceover guy sounds just like ToucanSam! I remember seeing these ads back when I was about 8 years old and thinking the same thing...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K5PHakJwz0http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K5PHakJwz0

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whNgHZzS8Yk

For all we know, the announcer in that commersh might actually be the same guy who did Toucan Sam!But youd think the Dennys people would be wise enough not to have the voice of the animated Froot Loops birddo their ads, because it distracts from the message. You keep waiting for the guy to sing, Follow your nose!

And now its time for you to be scared. Boo! Its another 1981 commercial, and this one is for Centrumvitamins. I dont rememberseeingthis ad, but I know I heardit blaring in from the living room when my momwas watching her soap operas. It uses one of the creepiest music beds Ive ever heard in a commersh. When Iheard it in my childhood, I found it so unnerving that I asked myself, What in the hellis going on out there?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK19-eK1I4Y

Particularly frightening is the musics abruptendingwhich is evocative of a person dancing around,slipping on an icy sidewalk, and freezing in place asthey fall down.

But on a less scary note, that ad liberally usesthe Sesame Streetfont!

After all, Groverdoes baste.

2 years, 8 mishes

During the Occupy erasince Constitution Day2011Ive been on 8 overnight road trips. That doesntcount Occupy the Super Bowl in Indianapoliswhere Igot in a brawl with some right-wing thug who punchedme in the face during our marchas that trip was allwithin a calendar day. I call these 8 trips fact-findingmissions. Thats what members of Congress call itwhenever they go on vacation. The difference is thatthey do it on the taxpayers dime. I dont.

My jaunts generally have nothing to do withOccupy though. My first such trip after September 2011was my journey to the Big Bend region of Texas. The

mischief rating on this mish was notched up a littlewhen we stuck a sign that said RUINED on a brokenice machine at a San Angelo motel. Plus, the crudeness

of the campsite at Big Bend necessitated pouring grease from our meals down the sink at the campsite restroomwhich clogged it hilariously. Also, at a hotelin Laredo, a phone book landed in thetoilet. We also witnessed a teenage girlbeing kicked out of a Houston restaurantbecause she kept pestering customers byselling flowers.

My next mish was to Charleston,South Carolina. On the way down, I noticed

Occupy Charlotte had erected some of theirsigns in rural North Carolina. And we had agreat time loudly cussing out a gas pump inMyrtle Beach because it lacked pay-at-the-pump.

The following summer was my tripto Springfield, Missouri. I call this theSuper Bubble trip, because I spotted a truckhauling this brand of bubble gum.

Not long after that was my trip tothe Badlands of South Dakota. Themischief rating was ratcheted up on this

outing when I shoved a Mountain Dew can

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whNgHZzS8Ykhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK19-eK1I4Yhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whNgHZzS8Ykhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK19-eK1I4Y

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coated with soda residue under the bed at a North Dakota hotel because they charged us more than the price theygave us when we booked our stay. Itll draw ants. And, at the Badlands campsite, I was kept awake late by othertravelers talking loudly and passing gas. That was the same night we ate dinner at a restaurant that was absolutelyfilthy! A couple stormed out of the eatery without paying for their meal when they discovered the cream for theircoffee was spoiled. The roll of toilet paper in the restroom there had a telltale stain indicating it had been dunkedin the toilet and left to dry.

Then came the uneventful Tallahassee mish, and then my trip to Washington, D.C. The D.C. mish is theone during which a deodorant lidfamously fell in the commode. Ithappened at a motel in Richmond,

Virginia. When we walked down by theWhite House, I noticed several peoplegathered on the roof. Could one of themhave been...President Obama?!?!?!

After that was my meeting withroad enthusiasts in the Huntington,West Virginia, area. The meet drewabout 25 peeps, and we formed amotorcade that was harried out of thetown of Ironton, Ohio, when a passingmotorist called the fuzz on us. Also,somebody ripped a silent-but-deadly

bunker blast as we were walking up astaircase over an old tunnel.

More recently, my brotherinvited me to help him out on a storm-chasing mish in Kansas and Oklahoma. I picked up a business replypostcard at a Loves gas station. After I got home, I wrote We are the 99% on it and mailed it to Lovescorporate headquarters.

Of course, the start of the Occupy era closely followeda glut of mishes. That includes my camping trip to Nebraska.At a restaurant in Sargent, Nebraska, some kid spilled an entireCoke on the floor. At the campsite, much of our garbage had tobe thrown in the toilet, as there was no trash can. A hotel roomin Leon, Iowa, was infested with tarantulas.

That itself came a few months after my trip toMontgomery, Alabama, where the motel was quite anexperience in its own right. Hair from an electric razor gotdumped down inside the heater. Guests kept loudly arguingwith each other right outside my door when I was trying to getto sleep. I almost stepped in a puddle of vomit while walkingto the lobby.

Best all, while I was getting ready to leave, I noticed asmall morsel of brown matter on the floor.

Could it be?Might it be?Must it be?

Should it be?You guessed it. It was.There was a piece ofpoo-poo on the floor of our hotel

room!Before some villager out there who makes more

money than me groans that they never get to go on mishes, Ibet they could if they really tried. My recent fact-finding tourscost me next to nil: Even when youre noton a road trip, youhave to eat, and if youre going on a trip with a family memberwho was going anyway, lodging doesnt cost any extra. Plus,how much does it cost to camp in a national park? Probably the biggest expense for me on any of these misheswas about $60 for a bus ticket on the Huntington trip. See, you too can be an underemployed scavenger with 9

toes in the grave and still see the whole country.

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Are you listening, Work-for-Less Jamie? This is how its done. Then again, I guess the KentuckyAgriculture Commissioner doesnt have to worry about spending his own money on trips, because he just sticksKentucky taxpayers with the bill for his Crowne Plaza stays and steak dinners.

More mishes loom. August already has one on tap. Its also remotely conceivable that Ill go toKalamazoo for the Occupy National Gathering. It would be a mish in Mich! September has more action in store,and Im even looking ahead to next spring. If any of these events are exciting enough, I shall regale you with themin these pagesas I often did in the last decade.

Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.