(Long Island, NY) A quote from Reuters: “U.S. commanders say they expect a surge in violence with the start of the Ramadan holiday next week.” Now, that, folks, is absolutely CHARMING. We’re going to get more killings, just in time for the HOLY HOLIDAYS. What kind of nonsense is this?

I remember some not-so-moderate Islamic leaders being interviewed after 9/11, when reporters grilled them about the deaths of more than three thousand innocent people. Some of these leaders made great noises about how Islam prohibited the killing of innocent people. Only one, in my faulty memory, was actually forced to admit (by a VERY wily and skillful reporter) that according to one radical’s interpretation, only people who followed Islam would be considered “innocent”.

I used to believe that the most dangerous people were the Pat Buchanans, Jerry Falwells, and Pat Robertsons of the world. People with enough money to spread a particular brand of intolerance to anyone who disagreed with them. Now I know better. I know that it doesn’t matter what religion you follow, so long as you HATE. As long as you hate, you’re a threat to the rest of us decent, common-sense loving humans from Earth.

Now a more extreme person would, at this point, be making some kind of case for “control” of these true-blue, no-holding-back believers. Personally, I think that’s a complete waste of time. There’s no controlling someone who hates you enough to blow themselves into a million pieces in a futile gesture that only creates heartbreak and grief for innocent bystanders. Can you reason with such logic? No. Can we control such dedication? No.

Rabble-rouser Frank Zappa once suggested fighting Islamic extremists on their own turf. Zappa suggested a “pork aerosol bomb” that would saturate the enemy in essence of dead pig. Zappa claimed, “you can’t get into heaven smelling like a pig” according to his interpretation of extremist doctrine. No need to kill off the radicals. Just douse them in pig.

I’m not sure how practical that is, but it certainly is food for thought. (Pun unintentional.)

Pondering all this, it occurred to me that there is something missing from all this. Has anyone noticed that all the car bombs, all the suicide attacks outside of one horrible day in September, have all happened in other countries?

Folks, I think there’s a reason for this. In spite of our flaws, in spite of our crappy Pat Robertson sympathizers, SUV driving gas-addicts, and idiotic daytime television, these suicide bombers fear America, and will most likely never operate here with the same apparent ease they do in Iraq, and other places.

These extremists fear America, as it seems to be the one place where they would be shut down fairly quickly once a string of these incidents started occurring. Our xenophobia is not a good thing—don’t get me wrong. I shudder to think of the reprisals that would happen against our decent, everyday Islamic citizens should such activities happen here. There would be awful headlines of attacks against ordinary folks, simply because they reminded some redneck idiot somewhere of his or her idea of a terrorist.

With that in mind, these terrorists understand that between ugly vigilante attacks and the focused efforts of law enforcement, their days would be very numbered. They recognize this fact, and are scared of it.

This long ramble doesn’t really have much of a point, does it? Well, suffice it to say that the leaders of these extremists are too frightened of losing their privilege, money, and power to set up base camps in America. Outside of a few horrible, but isolated incidents, it is very likely we shall never see the prolonged suicide bombings other countries are treated to on a yearly basis.

When 9/11 happened, I had a horrible feeling of dread. If there were repeated attacks in America, it seemed very likely that the terror cells could inflict real damage to the nation, weakening it through fear, disaster, and fire. Fortunately, these extremist types are too simple-minded to think that far ahead. They may have had the cunning to pull off a single day of attacks, but their childish thinking renders them incapable of pulling off a sustained campaign capable of doing actual damage beyond the horrors we already know.

I am grateful for the military incompetence of these zealots on our soil. I am saddened, frustrated, and fearful for our troops in the war zones, and I am hoping that our elected officials grow as fearful as I am. It disturbs me that other countries are unable to eliminate these terrorists, and even more so that our presence there is a mere obstacle to the bloodshed, rather than a deterrent. In times such as these, maybe we need to rethink our entire foreign policy. Any war zone where the bloodshed escalates because of the holy days is probably a losing proposition for us. We just don’t have the stomach to fight these people on their own terms, and what we are doing now just isn’t working.

In closing, I’d just like to say, with all due respect to legitimate followers of “the religion of peace,” I would dearly love to see all religious extremists covered in bacon.

(Long Island, NY) I was recently shown some disturbing photos, purportedly taken at a “Religion of Peace” demonstration. The pictures were sent in by email and showed people wearing headscarves, carrying signs with charming slogans; “freedom go to hell”, “Islam Will Dominate The World” and other sectarian nonsense.

Reading these signs makes me angry. I wish I could teach these idiots a thing or two about the word “freedom”. I’d like to explain to these extremist wingnuts that it is far, far better to think for yourself, choose your own clothing, and have a real life.

I recently read a disturbing passage in a non-fiction book where an American soldier, while flirting with an Islamic woman, was informed by said woman, “God says pleasure with a man is evil,”

I want to pick these people up, shake them senseless, and airmail them to a deprogramming center someplace.

Before I get to the next step in this intellectual parade, however, I am given great pause by the sheer hypocrisy of it all. In fact, I am bowled over by the massive tidal wave of ignorance that I, and my fellow Americans, have regarding these issues.
I know exactly what you are thinking right now, and you’re wrong. I am not about to go on a tirade about equality, open-mindedness, and giving legitimate Islam a fair shake. No, not this writer. We already KNOW about all that, and give it plenty of thought. Or at least, we should.

No, what I am railing about here is the utter hypocrisy of Americans who gnash their teeth against the kind of oppressive lifestyles of extreme Islamic belief, but don’t give one iota of thought to identically oppressive policies held forth by mainstream branches of Christianity.

Africa is a nation literally drowning in AIDS. One report claims nearly 25 million cases in sub-Saharan Africa alone. Along comes the Vatican, instructing people—including Catholics in Africa—not to use condoms. The Vatican has instructed these people that condom use is a SIN. Africans and their AIDS epidemic? Too bad, according to the doctrines of the church. Yes, yes, I know there are moderates in the Catholic Church. I sympathize with them and hope they win out in the end. This does NOT change the fact that in the 21st Century, a major mainstream religion is teaching people HOCUS POCUS about condoms.

Folks, this is just as irresponsible as telling women that “pleasure with a man is evil”. I ask you, just who is the backwards, ignorant, religious extremist here? We are living in the bloody 21st Century, people. Does ANYONE really believe these things? Apparently, they do.

Everyone should be free to practice their faith in the privacy of their own homes, mosques, churches, synagogues, whatever. In my own not-so-humble opinion, religion becomes oppressive when it stops being about your personal choices, and starts becoming some man in a robe, an unusually tall hat, or a clerical collar dictating what God says is right and wrong for everyone. It’s the giving of orders I object to, on all sides of the equation. Religion is supposed to be a voluntary thing, last time I checked. Unfortunately, some Christians, followers of Islam, and even some atheists all want the rest of us to fall lock-step in line with their brand of thinking.

The war on terror will NEVER be over until we can render people like this completely powerless. And there is only ONE way to do that, folks.

That’s right, only ONE way. And it has nothing to do with guns, bombs, missiles, or flags.

If we, as a society, ignore these people and their petty demands, they lose their power. We don’t have to kill them. We just have to quit letting them have power over us by listening to a thing they say.

I’ll go one step farther here, the most controversial step; if these people are right about God’s demands, I want absolutely nothing to do with God. I’d rather take my chances in hell than spend an eternity kowtowing to the demands of a supreme deity so appallingly petty and small-minded.

The photos that inspired this article were sent via email, so I have no idea as to their actual origins, but I can tell you this. Much in the same way that the “religion of peace” (Christianity) went to war against people of Islamic faith back during the Crusades, today we have another “religion of peace” (Islam) going to war with the people it brands as infidels today. History is repeating itself, and we are doomed to repeat it, having learned nothing from the joint tragedy against “believers” and “unbelievers” on either side.

Trust me on this one, folks. Islam isn’t the enemy. Stupid, pig-ignorant buffons on both sides of the religious fence are the real enemy. Anyone who still believes that God–whatever he, she, or it may be–is interested in being the supernatural IRS of us all has missed the entire point. But I suppose we’ll never learn. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

(Long Island, NY) Former Vice President Al Gore is rumored to be considering another run for President. I don’t know what to make of this. Gore’s public image is more respectable now in the wake of the movie An Inconvenient Truth. Plenty of people have forgotten the little controversy where Gore claimed to have somehow invented the internet, and that part of the plot of the movie Love Story was inspired by his relationship with his wife, Tipper.

Or, at least, that’s what we were supposed to believe at one time. Was Gore somehow misquoted? Misconstrued? Misunderstood? On both counts? We’ll never know the real truth.

What we DO know is that if Gore decides to throw his hat into the ring, we’ll hear those stories again, along with plenty of new ones. I myself had reservations about Gore because of Tipper’s activities connected with the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC) back in the 80s. Tipper and the PMRC wasted an incredible amount of taxpayer money and congressional time with the “porn wars” hearings about naughty lyrics in rock music. Tipper was making some kind of stand for decency and morality, but instead of directing her ire against corruption in politics, she wanted to stamp out rock and roll lyrics about sex.

Of course, that was decades ago, and I’m certain Al Gore knows better than to be party to that kind of nonsense. Right? RIGHT?

I think I’ve come to terms with my worries about Tipper “loose cannon” Gore. I reminded myself that she managed to behave herself for the most part when Gore was VP and not go on another porn-rock crusade. These days, my trepidation with the next election campaign has a lot to do with the way the previous election was run and its aftermath. Things that gave me the willies? How about how Howard Dean found himself on the outs with voters after a single moment of campaign zaniness; the famous Howard Dean “scream”.

Dean lost out in the primaries to John Kerry. Kerry got into that whole “swift boat” controversy and his anti-war activism following his service in Vietnam—a horrible muckraking scene no matter who was right on either side of the issue. What did that Viet Nam stuff have to do with the current problems of the country? Nada, folks.

Kerry lost the election to a former National Guardsman who seems to have dodged his commitment to duty. Joe Lieberman said “miracles do happen” after the announcement of his candidacy for Vice President. After his efforts dried up and blew away, he went immediately on the attack against…porn-rock! Hello, Tipper, dahhhling!

What is it with these guys?

The next election year fills me with dread. The whole bloody campaign definitely earned the nickname the late Frank Zappa gave it back in the 80s; “the Olympics of Banality”.

What will it mean if Gore runs again? What if Jeb Bush decides to run? What is wrong with the political process in America?

Well, for starters, the whole thing is run like a Christmas retail advertising campaign. Beyond that, the ultra-low voter turnout year after year means there is no real mandate from the people. Based on voter turnout numbers, we the people are a bunch of lazy, shiftless slugs. Even worse? Your vote doesn’t even COUNT for much, as we have this ridiculously outdated Electoral College nonsense going on. What REALLY ought to be happening during an election year, ANY election year, is one person, one vote.

There needs to be a direct tally of all the votes going directly for the individuals running for office. Our electoral college harkens back to the days of powdered wigs, slavery, and people who thought chewing tobacco was really cool.

Oh, wait, we still have most of that today.

Never mind, forget I spoke. I’m going back to sleep. George Bush is a wonderful president with a heart for the common man, you never get a bad hot dog at the speedway, and global warming is a big myth.

Pleasant dreams!

This installment of my usually snarky column is a bit more somber. No jokes this time, nothing snotty; this is an honest, no-kidding farewell to Steve Irwin.

I worked in television for more than thirteen years as a reporter, cameraman, editor, anchor, and producer. I’ve interviewed thousands of people, covered natural disasters, fires, hardships, nature stories, you name it.

When someone in my old field excels, I feel a sense of pride. Today’s television has much to criticize; yet I do occasionally find worthwhile moments to feel a bit proud of. The late Peter Jennings was the most rational and calm voice of 9/11; it was his finest hour, in my opinion. His passing was huge; it felt like the end of an era. Indeed, when my fellow journalists pass away, I do feel the loss, even having left television behind for the printed page.

When Steve Irwin died, I felt that television had lost something unique. It’s true that Irwin was a figure of fun for many satirists and comedians; his clownish, and sometimes downright scary behavior was easily lampooned. Even so, it was damn near impossible of accusing the man of being a fake. His enthusiasm was genuine. His manic energy and missionary zeal for the wild never felt forced or artificial.

It was hard to consider Irwin part of television’s elite. He was just too goofy, too absorbed in the world around him to be as camera-conscious as others in “the biz.” He really didn’t seem to care about anything but what was happening in front of the lens at the moment he put himself in front of some dangerous wild animal.

Irwin carved out his own niche in TV land. He didn’t stoop to “America’s Funniest” level, he didn’t reach above the viewer’s head, either. He was a man who managed to clown his way into the heart of the most cynical business ever known outside of politics and the world’s oldest profession. It’s not easy to present an “all ages” program that doesn’t feel sickeningly homogenized and toned-down. When exceptions come along, one tends to take notice.

Steve Irwin was deeply concerned about conservation, ecology, and protecting animals. Rush Limbaugh can rail against what he calls “environmentalist whackos” all day long, but Irwin was an excellent example of the ultimate activist; someone who simply lived out their beliefs, tried to show others the wonders around them, and –at least in my experiences watching his antics over the years—refrained from polarizing rhetoric and idiotic sloganeering. There weren’t too many like Irwin, and the world is a poorer place without him. If more environmentally concerned people like Irwin could rise to prominence, it wouldn’t take long to get rid of the “whacko” factor.

I didn’t know Steve Irwin the human being. I knew him as his TV caricature. Who was he really? I’ve got no way to tell. I base my words here on impressions, on partial information. Maybe behind closed doors, he was a different sort. Somehow I don’t think so, and if I’m wrong, I don’t want to know. From where I sit, television has lost another unique individual. He isn’t the first to make an impression, he certainly won’t be the last, but he does leave quite a lot to live up to in terms of uniqueness. I don’t know if his TV contemporaries are up to meeting the challenge, but it would be nice to see them try, somehow.

So long, Steve Irwin.

(Long Island, NY) Have you checked the local headlines lately? Cannibals, brawling high school footballers, carjacking, shooting sprees…rotten news stories about rotten situations, bad people, and the good people victimized by them.

I’m actually starting to long for the days when corrupt officials, their bribes and scandals took up most of the newspaper. I suppose I sound fairly curmudgeonly here, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I mean, what is the problem here? Is it something in the water? Maybe people are just getting worse? Can we blame the full moon?

Of course, there have been reports of this rotten stuff since the beginning of mankind’s ability to write. Ancient Rome had its fair share of hooligans, con men, murderous loonies and other unsavory types. Of course, most of them would up being in charge of the place. Regardless of your feelings about George W. Bush or Bill Clinton before him, neither of those two ever commissioned a great hollow bull sculpture to be made with the express purpose of roasting a human being alive inside it. The emperor Diocletian is said to have done that for one reason or another. Yes, folks, in spite of our permanently baffled federal government on both sides of the political fence, there are actually worse things out there.

Still, most people insist that we have it much worse today than ever before. “Those headlines are only the start!” they cry. “Look at the wicked excesses of Hollywood!” You know, for once, I might actually be in agreement. After all, who gives millions of dollars to a company to make a movie version of “The Dukes Of Hazzard?” This is wretched excess on a Babylonian scale. I can think of fifty million better, and less frivolous ways to spend that kind of money. A massive giveaway of plastic “redneck teeth” wrapped in a twenty-dollar bill is a good start. I’d stand in an endless line at the movie theater for THAT. Well, at least for the $20.

And what about these declining morals? Just look at those movies coming out over the summer. “Get Rich Or Die Tryin” starring Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson. One day the movie posters show him holding a pistol, and after public hoo-hawing, the posters are replaced with Jackson holding a baby. The moral decay here is obvious. Anyone who can be pressured into changing their artist vision (no matter how cheesy and lame) by a bunch of bad press is obviously shot through with shoddy morals. How spineless! How weak-willed!

Of course, in MY world, the real crime is that Curtis Jackson has a whole generation of kids dropping their plurals. Damn you, Curtis Jackson, the correct usage is “Fifty CENTS!” Plurals, I tell you! PLURALS!

Moral decay, crummy values, and bad grammar. We’re in big trouble here, folks. That’s not to downplay the seriousness of the recent spate of lousy news; in this “if it bleeds, it leads” news environment we live in, it seems inevitable that most of our headlines will be very depressing.

That’s why I don’t subscribe to the newspapers. If I want to get depressed, I’ll do my taxes. One day some enterprising company will try and market a “good news” publication, if it hasn’t happened already. The fate of such a venture is obvious-it will fail more miserably than an attempt by George Bush to put a happy face on the war in Iraq. I think we might just be addicted to our crappy headlines, our bad news, and our natural disasters. Why do people watch disaster movies? War movies? Tear-jerking dramas? What’s going on here?

I could venture a guess, I could offer my armchair psychology, or try to reason my way through that one, but I’m stuck. I can’t get past gangsta rappers who refuse to use the letter “s”. It’s something I’ll never, ever be able to get my head around, and this problem might just usher in the end of the world. I think perhaps I might have this blown a teeny bit out of proportion, but I can’t be sure. I’m too busy wondering why all the words in pop culture that DO use some kind of plural have swapped “s” for “z”.

Of course, I also know that I’m fixated on this because I’ve gotten tired of making fun of people who watch “The View”.

(Long Island, NY) A recent set of problems with the Long Island Rail Road system left commuters grumbling. A suspected gas leak, plus a broken down train in need of a ‘rescue car’ and half hour delays gave LIRR riders headaches, rolling eyes, and clenched fists; all symptoms of “impatient commuter syndrome”.

Why so cynical about the LIRR breakdown? That’s an easy one. Ever spent any time in a car during a New York rush hour? I rest my case. Delays, inconvenience, and frustration are par for the course each and every day on many stretches of road all over the USA, and all those dummies, sitting one-to-a-car, pound their dashboards with anger as they sit watching the gas gauge needle sink lower and lower, traffic moving about as fast as an elephant covered in molasses. Those who board the train get whisked along to their destinations reading, listening to music, spaced out on drugs, and/or alcohol. All over New York, a train ride is an easy one, if you can get deal with whackos, stoned out day-trippers, drunken tourists, and grouchy writer types. The delays may be a pain, it’s true, but it’s still better than being a highway zombie.

The higher gas prices rose over the summer, the more I scoffed at the fools in their cars, wasting all that gas, polluting the environment, getting stuck in traffic, and listening to Rush Limbaugh. Fooey on them! “Clueless sheep, these die-hard drivers.“ I thought to myself.

But it turns out that I’m totally wrong for hating the car.

Imagine what would happen if all those drivers suddenly discovered the train. Think of it! All those cars, abandoned on the sides of the road, in parking garages, and side streets. There’d be even less room on board at rush hour than there is now. It would be a wretched ordeal; try to imagine what it would be like, jammed inside the LIRR wall-to-wall with all those ex drivers, grousing about how they missed their Jags and BMWs, how things were so much better when they were sitting bumper-to-bumper, how the LIRR should pipe in Al Franken or Limbaugh.

“I say, Buffy, you can’t even hear your cell phone conversation over all the OTHER cell phone conversations! It’s a terrible bore.”

No, it’s a very good thing indeed these people are on the highways. We’d never see the end of them if they started infesting the trains. You think you’ve got it bad with a few delays and a couple of broken down trains? Wait til the trains start REALLY breaking down because of the added weight of all those extra passengers, their laptops, briefcases, and double-tall nonfat mocha lattes with extra foam. The amount of all that extra foam alone could be enough to cause an environmental action alert due to excessive vapor from plasticized coffee cup interiors.

Folks, we need all those cars on the road to keep the LIRR freed up for the rest of us. Every single delay on the tracks should serve as a reminder that we could be “one of THEM” on the road, waiting as a tow truck comes to hoist yet another wrecked car off the road. Yet another accident delay, no doubt caused by a bozo driving with his cell phone plastered to the side of his head. The LIRR has no such inconveniences, only the usual weather-related issues, mechanical failures, or track repairs to hold things up. When you sit in your LIRR seat, waiting for some minor inconvenience to be taken care of, remember that the LIRR never gets a flat tire. Riders of the train will never see the “check engine” light suddenly come on, or have to worry that they may be burning oil.

Let those four-wheel junkies fret and fuss over those things.

As for me, the only worry I have is that one day those drivers really WILL wake up and stop paying nearly four dollars a gallon, plus insurance, plus parking, plus oil changes, plus new tires, plus…plus…plus. The day they figure it out is the day the LIRR truly does become unbearable.

(Long Island, NY) “Sorry, Sir,” the man at the airport said with a frown, “but you can’t take that on the plane.” I’d only had one sip of my coffee, but rules were rules. “Recent incidents make it necessary to have everybody dispose of all liquid before getting on board.” I tried to gulp down more of my life-giving coffee before giving it up. “There it goes,” I thought, “my freedom to need a bathroom trip three times during a two hour flight.” Damn these terrorists!

I was coming back from a few weeks off—you might have noticed that I haven’t written much in a while. I had to get away for a few weeks and clear my head, but now that I am back, you can expect more output in this space. Little did I know that when I came back I’d be getting all this fodder for the column, starting with the latest terror news regarding airline travel. All these restrictions, my coffee thrown in the trash, and who knows what kind of insanity to come?

Of course, later on, many of the latest round of airline restrictions were relaxed over time and things crept back to something resembling normal. I remember hearing the breaking news where reporters breathlessly announced that yet another terror plot had been thwarted—the one that involved bringing explosives on board disguised as sports drinks and other items. I was a sap, and believed every word.

Once I found out that the going theory was that this was not an actual attempt to blow up airplanes, but rather a “dry run” or test run to see if it were possible, I was angry with myself for thinking that these reporters knew for one second what was really going on.

See, kids, they teach you in the military that terror cells often conduct these dry runs. The reasons are varied, but much of the time it involves a test to see what the response will be. The dry run is usually not intended to be a full-scale assault; it’s to determine what exactly would happen in the event that one was carried out.

This is what is so irritating about the press when these situations go down. Not only do they get it wrong in the crucial early hours of the situation, but they fail to realize their role in the system. The incident went down, the press over-reacted, and the public recoiled in horror. Terrorists tried to blow up the planes!

Then, of course, the theories of dry runs came up, but to confuse the issue, those martyrdom tapes were discovered, making everything much less black and white than ever. Was it a dry run? Was it real? I buried my head in the sand after hearing the “dry run” theories, and was shocked to hear of the martyrdom tapes. What is going on?

Most likely, disinformation on a massive scale, by the terrorists. They planted just enough doubt around that we may never know what the real story was. Then again, I quit following the news and maybe it was all sewn up nice and tight now and I look like a complete boob for even ranting about the whole mess. I really don’t know.

What I DO know is that now, thanks to the incidents in question, the terrorists, wherever they may be hunkered down, know EXACTLY how we shall react to such a situation in the future. It’s all there for them to analyze and ponder over. They can look at all the press coverage, official reactions, and police activity the way the NFL football coaches watch game footage to study the opposing team’s strengths and weaknesses.

This wouldn’t disturb me so much, except for one little detail; the terror planners know now, after years of experience since 9/11, that western airport security is very reactionary, doesn’t last very long in ‘crisis mode’, and tends to get more lax as more and more time passes between incidents.

The real way to secure an airport is to institute completely arbitrary, draconian measures about what can go on board and what cannot, and leave them in place. FOREVER. If you don’t pass the security check, you don’t fly. If your tickets aren’t legit, you don’t fly. No passport? Ditto. Your name is on the watch list? Ditto. Your papers aren’t in order? Sorry.

Unfortunately, we westerners can’t live with measures like that without feeling like we’ve inherited a Stalin-style military dictatorship, but with air travel as vulnerable as it is, it’s entirely possible that we’ll never be safe unless some kind of strict security which never changes is instituted. We don’t need to –and shouldn’t– filter this down to all of society, but in an airport, it may just be the most appropriate measure. The terrorists aren’t giving up. What are WE doing?

(Long Island, NY) I dated a woman once who, on an otherwise ordinary dinner date, suddenly went into a long tirade about her sister’s parenting skills. “And to top it all off,” she exclaimed towards the end, “she lets her kids watch…FAMILY GUY!”

I’d never seen the show before, being basically a workaholic writer with a million different projects going on at once. I remember telling her once that I was so busy that I hardly had time to be a decent Uncle to my sister’s kids. I like kids, but rarely have a chance to grab a free day to make the trip south to see them.

“What’s so bad about a cartoon on television?” I asked her. Her eyebrows went up a full two inches as though I had just suggested that she do a striptease for the waiter while I poured champagne down my underpants.

“That show shouldn’t even be ON television! It’s just about being gross for grossnecities’ sake!”

Grossnecities?

I tried to let it go, I really did, but after about three seconds, I couldn’t take it.

“Darling, I don’t think that’s a word, at least not according to a strict interpretation of the dictionary.”

I saw right away that I wasn’t scoring any points. Her eyes narrowed, she leaned forward and put both palms on the table like she was going to do an Olympic vault.

“I would NEVER let MY kids watch that rotten show, no way in a million years. It’s just plain…RUDE!”

I had two immediate concerns, the most important of which I addressed first. “How can you say that after watching—and enjoying—ANY movie directed by Kevin Smith?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but she knew I’d backed her into a corner.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong with being gross?” I mean, come ON, now. Gross humor is the very foundation of America. On one end of the spectrum, Bill Cosby used to do standup about smearing jello on the kitchen floor, and on the other end of the spectrum you have British comedian Rik Mayall doing a sketch where he tries to kill himself with laxative pills. It’s one of our national pastimes! Besides which, she was basically advocating censorship over something, I helpfully pointed out, that she did find to her taste.

She tried to come back with some lame excuses, but she knew she basically didn’t have a leg to stand on. I told her that I had never seen an episode of Family Guy up to that point, but I was VERY interested in seeing an episode NOW. In fact, I bet I could probably rent a DVD collection of the early episodes and watch them right after our date at the Symphony the following week.

She cringed at the very idea. All that highbrow culture followed up by barf and poop humor. Sounds GREAT to me, after all, I am a man of extremes. I can enjoy a bit of Beethoven one moment, and watch Kevin Smith’s latest four-letter frenzy film with equal gusto the next. Who doesn’t enjoy a fine wine and a cheap hamburger?

I think I was just too weird for her, because we didn’t see very much of each other after that. Of course, it could always be the second line of questioning that I put to her after we agreed to disagree on Family Guy. We made our truce over the TV cartoon with me saying that no, it didn’t sound appropriate for her kids to be watching, or her sister’s kids. I waited a moment for propriety’s sake before asking my next question. I am an old softie, and have never had an issue with anybody’s kids, ever. Still, I guess I am also old fashioned, and like people to be who they are, and not pretend they are anything but.

“How come you never mentioned before that you have kids?”

She was so embarrassed at this stage, that we pretty much had to end the evening. I tried to explain my position; I would love to do things with her and her kids. Pretending to be single was completely unnecessary. I needn’t have bothered, really. I could sort of tell that we weren’t going to be dating much after revealing an interest in both classical music and lowbrow TV cartoons. It was just too weird for her to handle.

Still, not as weird as pretending to be single. I’ll never understand that one as long as I live, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I’ve got my DVD player warmed up and ready for another Family Guy marathon. I’ll always remember that lady, because she got me into one of my now-favorite shows. Thanks, hon.

The moral of the story is probably two-fold. One, don’t let on that you like BOTH crapola culture and the sophisticated stuff. It makes the opposite sex think that you can’t make up your mind whether you’re a cretin or a snob. Two, the more protests there are about how rotten something is, the more enjoyable and fun it will be once the rest of us get around to savoring the awfulness.

Now I’ve got PLENTY of awfulness to watch.

(Long Island, NY) I was reading an article recently about a missing WW2 aircraft that may have crashed in the ocean somewhere about 25 miles from Montauk. Apparently, the airplane crashed after developing engine trouble and an attempt to return home during a “live fire” training mission . The article says that the crew of a B-24 Liberator, code-numbered 42-75-25, was never accounted for, and that only the standard notification effort to contact the family members of the flight was ever attempted by the government. The families were left in the dark as to the final disposition of the mission and its crew until some documents were discovered, practically by accident, on the internet.

The piece I read on this complained that no search for the missing crew was ever attempted in the area now believed to contain the wreckage; it also says the crew-members names should be memorialized in an appropriate area.

The memorial would be a small token of gratitude, and would take something as simple as a mayoral or gubernatorial order to set in motion. A dive to recover the bodies is probably much less practical, as there is a 25 nautical mile area to cover in searching for a small aircraft. It’s unfortunate, but unless a private concern volunteers, chances are this aircraft and crew will remain missing.

The real problem for the families of the B-24 Liberator 42-75-25, is the lack of concern the government apparently demonstrated beyond the basic notification of relatives missing in action. Most WW2 families in this situation probably felt that further petitioning of the government would be useless as their individual military members listed as missing in action or potentially killed in the line of duty was a small number compared to the thousands killed overseas during the war. Who would they be to complain about one man per family?

The military has a very difficult time in any war effort keeping track of personnel, equipment, and other issues. The deaths of individuals often get lost in the larger problem of logistics, supply, and defense. That’s not to say that military members don’t care about their own; it is meant to point out that records get lost; shipments and flights get sidetracked, delayed, cancelled, and waylaid. In short, human error.

Unfortunately, when human error factors in, that’s when it is up to the families of those missing or killed in action to do something to remind the government that they exist, need answers, and have a right to the information. It’s not a perfect system, and many times repeated queries do get rejected by the bureaucracy.

Most people don’t realize that they actually have additional recourse in cases like these-recourse that actually works. If you or someone you know has relatives missing in action, killed in action with no remains forthcoming, or other situation where you absolutely need information from the government, take heart. If you contact your congressman by registered mail, spelling out the exact details of your situation, what you did to get additional information, and the lack of satisfactory results from the Department of Defense, I can promise you an interest in your situation. It may take a bit of time to get the wheels of progress moving, but a letter to your congressman is one of the best things you can do to get the attention of those in uniform.

I have experience in this area. When I served in the Air Force, I, a lowly enlisted man among hundreds of thousands affected by the Department of Defense order to take the controversial Anthrax inoculation, contacted my congressman with my concerns, I was given a relatively quick response along with a request from my congressman to keep him appraised of my situation.

It is never too late to get attention to America’s missing in action, killed-but-missing, and other situations that require serious governmental accountability before closure can truly happen. It’s not fair to keep the families of missing soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines waiting unnecessarily. If the information is in house, it can easily be declassified (if possible) and released to the next of kin. If you are one of these, please get in touch with your congressman or congresswoman as soon as possible. You may find the answers you seek much more forthcoming.

In closing, I list the names of those on the doomed B-24 Liberator flight, code-numbered 42-75-25. I hope they get their memorial. They deserve it. Many thanks to http://www.danspapers.com for providing the information on the missing Liberator crew and more.

These are the men who were on board B-24 #42-75-25.

• Pilot: 2nd Lt. Kenneth E. Wigness of Harlan, Iowa.
• Co-Pilot 2nd Lt. Gene W. Sloan of Winfield, Kan.
• Bombardier 2nd Lt. Frederick G. Rhodes of Altoona, Pa.
• Navigator 2nd Lt. Rufus R. Nelson of Minneapolis, Mn.
• Instructor Navigator 2nd Lt. Martin J. Kew of Van Dyke, Mich.
• Radio Operator Staff Sgt. Edward J. Clancy of Milwaukee, Wis.
• Engineer Staff Sgt. Robert F. McLaughlin of Eden Ala.
• Radio Operator Sgt. Chester Webb of Sidney, W. Va.
• Aerial gunner Sgt. George W. Wilson Jr. of Farmington, Ct.
• Radio Operator Sgt. Joseph Hartzel of Chicago, Ill.
• Aerial gunner Staff Sgt. Joseph Jachim of Chicago, Ill.

The phone rang, late Thursday night. It was one of my political gossip-hound friends, calling to dish about the impending release of former Islip Town Supervisor Pete McGowan’s pending release from jail. McGowan pleaded guilty to three felonies connected to his, ahem, use of a million-dollar campaign fund. I’d given McGowan plenty of raspberries in my LI Exchange column, so naturally my friend thought I’d be eager to go on a rant about McGowan’s puny 56-day jail term.

“To tell you the truth,” I said, “I’m sick of thinking about it. You have guys in California who got sentenced to federal time for stealing a slice of pizza under the three strikes law. McGowan plays fast and loose with a million or so, and goes home in under two months?”

My friend couldn’t believe I didn’t want to rant about it. I tried to change the subject. “Crime and punishment in this country is outrageous. Did you know you could be charged with felony shoplifting for stealing $150 worth of clothes from a store?”

No surprise there, my friend said. So what?

“So what? I’ll tell you so what. There are big retail chains that won’t even bother to press charges unless they can catch you in the act! Some of these places may as well just hang up signs that say ‘clothes FOR STEAL’.

My friend wanted to know what all this had to do with McGowan.

“Not a damn thing! I’m trying to change the subject. Using that guy’s example, I am convinced that the way to get away with ANYTHING in this country is to do it while wearing a suit and tie.”

It’s true. Ever see that Christopher “Batman Begins” Nolan movie called “Following”? It features a very suave suit-and-tie guy who gets away with everything he tries to pull. He is caught in one scene having broken in to a couple’s apartment. When the surprised owner confronts him, he simply says, “Are you from the real estate office? I showed up early, sorry.” Or some such. The bottom line is that he gets away with it.

Nixon wore a suit and tie, and got away with his brand of nonsense by resigning. Ken Lay managed to get himself into a whole heap of trouble; it’s true, in spite of the suit. Now he’s dead and the whole point is moot.

Now that I think about it, Dillinger was probably wearing a suit and tie when he got wiped out by the cops outside that Chicago movie theater. Maybe my theory has a few holes in it. By the time I got done explaining it all to my friend, there were big laughs coming from the other end of the phone.

“Pal, you’re nuts. It doesn’t have anything to do with what you wear. All you need to do to commit the perfect crime is work alone.”

What did my friend mean? I couldn’t figure it out.

“Think about it. If you tell anybody else, or enlist their help, you have somebody that can rat you out to the cops. If you want to get away with it, you gotta get yourself into a position where you can be trusted with big sums of money or access to valuable materials and info, then just clean ‘em out one night after the cleaning woman goes home.”

I asked my friend just how one goes about being so knowledgeable about committing crimes.

“I read Sherlock Holmes stories. Have done for years. If McGowan had been a bit more of an avid reader, he might have gotten away with all that nonsense a lot longer than he did. You know what his problem was, man?”

At this point, I had no clue, and didn’t even care, but I was sure I was going to get an earful anyway.

“McGowan’s mistake was hanging around after he got his hands dirty. He should have gotten a big chunk of money, then sped off to Mexico, Iceland, Pago Pago, wherever. By getting crooked and sticking around, he deserved to get caught!”

I told my friend it sounded pretty half-baked. Was my pal sure they had all the facts about this case? Didn’t sound like it. But it doesn’t really matter, now. The whole thing is over and done with. Well, except for the more than four hundred hours of community service McGowan is supposed to do as part of his sentence.

If you ask me, it would be poetic justice if McGowan had to work in a Welfare office. My friend scoffed at that. “These old bozos never learn. They just mouth a bunch of platitudes about having learned their lesson, then they hook up with the Rotary Club somewhere and start figuring out ways to start the scams all over again. I bet he becomes a landlord in the end.”

By that stage in the conversation, I had all I could take. I hung up, went to bed, and had bad dreams about living in an apartment with McGowan as the maintenance guy. The drains emptied into the street, and the fuse box caught fire when I turned on the TV and the air conditioner at the same time. I woke up thinking that the worst part of it all is that whoever replaces McGowan could actually be WORSE. I was thinking of the dream, of course, but after my morning coffee, I realized that the same could go for the Town Supervisor slot. It would be easy for McGowan’s replacement to fail the test of time and go right for the graft. I’m not suggesting that is any kind of reality, but the possibility is certainly there. After all, there had to be a reason McGowan was tempted, now, doesn’t there? Was he just the bad apple? Or were conditions ripe for ANYBODY to get sucked in?

I guess we’ll have to give it a couple of years and see.