Both of these bands play on Saturday night of the extra-large, two-day American Music Show that kicks off on Friday.

Victor may not be ready to appreciate the twang-and-wit of the evening’s headliner, but I sure will be. As I’ve written before, Robbie Fulks put on one of the best performances I’ve ever witnessed and that was just him and his guitar. He’ll have his band with him on Saturday and I’ve heard tale that their good, real good.

The plan was to take the family down to the show on Saturday, while I checked out Friday’s lineup sans ninos. I missed Dave Alvin the last time he swung through town and wouldn’t make that mistake again. But it seems Tammy will be working so either I take the kids along or you come forth with an offer of babysitting. You can’t do it, can you?

Also playing Friday is a band called the Honeybees, not featuring Ginger and Mary Ann. I’ve heard them on the Sangamon Valley Roots Revival Radio Hour and they kind of hit in that sweet spot where the Ditty Bops always get me.

It looks to be a stellar weekend of music despite the reported scheduling of a Jimmy Buffet cover band somewhere else downtown. Well, dorks like music too so live and let live, I always say.

Here’s your American Music Show lineup for 2009:

Friday

The Honeybees 5PM

Bill Kirchen and Too Much Fun 6:30PM

Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women 8:00PM

The Damwell Betters 10:00PM

Saturday

The Gordons/Tom Irwin 3PM

The Cynics 5:30PM

The Handcuffs 7:00PM

Robbie Fulks 8:30PM

Hillbilly Casino 10:00PM

So, what’s not to like.

Trifectas for the Delusional

Have you ever noticed how celebrity deaths always happen in threes . . . and twos and sevens and ones and fours. It’s almost as if they’re random events completely unrelated to each other in any logical respect except in the imaginations of the extremely impressionable. God, it’s so eerie.

Potent Quotable

To mother, on his return from a birthday party at Skateland South:

"I’m really good at skating. I just fall down a lot," V. Naumovich

Baseball: It’s Not That Bad

After the skate party we took in a Slider’s game courtesy of the ole company store. Despite promises of all the free hot dogs and drinks they could stomach, the kids were not excited about this outing. After about a half hour at the park, I didn’t think we’d make it to the ceremonial opening pitches.

Once the game started, however, something strange happened. They settled in and took a genuine rooting interest in the goings-on out diamond’s way. Maria, the most ardent pre-game descenter, was particulary interested in learning the rules and strategies of the game as the action unfolded before her. We made it all the way to the seventh inning before being frightened away by lightning.

I’m on record as not being much of a baseball fan but I’ll admit to enjoying the game as well. It helped that they scored many runs, although we missed the two homers while replenishing with food stuffs. A group of visiting high school students – in town helping with a Habitat house and bunking at Little Flower’s gym – kept things lively with their good-natured antics. The race-confused, alcohol-abusing loud mouths behind us, however, sent us seeking tranquility down the opposing baseline.

Viva Le Futbol

I’d be remiss about saying anything good about baseball without tempering them with a few words about soccer. You’re probably not aware, and clearly do not care, but the U.S. men’s national team’s victory over Spain last week was incredibly momentous. If we were baseball fans, this would have been occasion for tipping automobiles or dragging the sofa from the porch to the street and setting it ablaze. (Yes, I’m aware of the rowdy, oft-times murderous behavior of soccer fans. Indulge me my prejudices.)

Trivia Is Not Trivial

Speaking of the ugly side of competitive endeavors, like many of you Facebookies I’m quite involved with the Know It All trivia series. And perhaps like you, I’ll look and see how I’m doing in the standings against my friendly competitors. I admit that if I’m trying to improve my record against a particular player that I’ll stick to those subjects on which I’m strong. What I won’t do is retake a quiz to improve my score.

I’ve noticed on a couple of occasions that someone who I initially bested on a quiz had somehow, days later, wrestled the victory away from me. The only explanation for this I can think of is that, armed with the correct answers, they retook the quiz. I won’t name names (not you, Johann), but the purveyor of this despicable practice should know that I’m on to his monkeyshines.

Speaking of trivia, response to the latest BFS challenge has been dismal. I usually won’t post results until I get at least ten entries, but we may not reach that level of participation this time. This confirms my suspicion that nobody reads blogs anymore and are instead satisfying their trivia jones on Facebook where they are cheating.

Heard About Your Band

When touring bands stop in Springfield, they normally start their performance at or near the eight o’clock hour. A reasonable time for the concert going crowd.

Local bands start much later. An act headlining a three o’clock bar may not take the stage until well after midnight. This scheduling costs them a segment of the music-loving demographic, most notably, me. But even those with the ability to stay awake past 11:00 might be more amenable to an earlier starting time so that they can enjoy the music and then go out and do whatever it is people who aren’t sleeping do at three in the morning.

Tammy went to see a band, the Graduate, last evening and I would have liked to have heard them as well. But I’m wise enough to my ways to realize that after an entire day shuffling the kids around and then an evening at the ballpark, that slumber could not be denied. It’s sad, really.

Speaking of music, I’ll be back later this week to promote the American Music Show, year after year, the finest lineup of music that Springfield has to offer.

Speaking of Father’s Day, here’s a picture of my haul. Homemade cards and contraptions. The good part, it didn’t cost me a penny. Speaking of which, here’s a link to the column I wrote for SpringfieldMoms.

Honey, I Shrunk the Tabloid – Fans of the venerable Sunday magazine will have noticed that it’s been cut down in size. Fortunately there was still room for Walter Scott to inform us of Miley Cyrus’ future projects and it looks as if she’ll be graduating to more mature roles until her fan base outgrows her and then Walter will stop returning her publicist’s calls.

If you arrived here via Firefox (you’re not really using Explorer, are you?), download the Cooliris plugin and you too will be amazed at the way it browses through photos. Do a Google image search of your favorite celebrity to ogle and then let Cooliris do it’s magic. Captivating!

I’ve come to realize that despite all of his corruptiness, Blagojevich was just too stupid to have screwed up the state’s finances so horribly and that Madigan may be the biggest culprit in the continuing budget problem. It’s all just a power game to the state’s leaders, but as the one who plays it best, Madigan is also the most to blame.

After spending the weekend at the water park and the swimming pool I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter who you are or where you’re from, deliberately splashing water in someone’s face is a punk move on par with shooting someone in the back or slipping iocaine powder in someone’s drink without first issuing a challenge to a battle of wits. I’m trying to teach my kids that to do so is to disgrace the family.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that I got a hold of a bad batch of sunscreen. Despite frequent applications I’m fried and considering litigative action against the makers of said faulty sun block. I’m hoping that a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale will counter the painful effects of the sun’s harmful rays. Milford would be mighty disappointed in me.

I’m working on another trivia quiz. Look for it soon.

This photograph, by Thomas James Salsman, accompanied a story I wrote on Chris Ward, a local comic book writer. Not really "accompanied," more like "one-upped." It really is quite cool. The comic book seems pretty cool too and it occurs to me that the comic is a medium I should hip the kids too.

If I had purchased tickets for Rod Blagojevich Superstar, I would have been quite miffed at his appearance at last evening’s performance. For, you see, I wouldn’t have been attending to laugh with the disgraced ex-governor, but at him. Letting him play along with the joke makes it seem as if it’s all just a light-hearted ribbing instead of a public belittling of one of the most corrupt politicians and ridiculous people that history has produced.

I can’t believe the Jose Feliciano post didn’t generate more discussion. "Light my fire, light my fire, light my fire."

Rachel Getting Married was an oddly compelling movie. I’d watch it again. And as a pure eye candy, I’ve never been a fan of Ann Hathaway, but I must say that the heroin-chic look works for her. She can act too.

I may or may not have gotten hit on by a woman at the Lincoln Library used book sale on Saturday. Evidence against is that I had all four kids with me, I hadn’t yet showered, and the fact that I never really got hit on much when I was single, childless and presentable. Okay, I guess I didn’t.

I haven’t seen the remake of The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3, but I did watch most of the original this evening and absent Walter Mattau, it can’t possibly be as good. Walt is seriously funny.

Well, that’s it. Not much, but nobody reads blogs anymore anyway.

My column last week was my first ever to be syndicated. Although I’m proud of this piece, apologies must be extended to the people of Norwood, Mass, who were assaulted with this.

Were I ambitious, I would take the signature line from this column (Today, I will wear my underpants backwards!) and turn it into a self-empowerment philosophy that would spawn a series of books, a line of merchandise, and a regular spot on Oprah.

I also wrote a feature on some very talented local musicians.

Flying With Pigs

On Wednesday, it seemed conceivable that Tammy and the kids’ trip to Vermont this summer might have to be canceled. Being herded through an airport and then incubated in a plane while deadly viruses abounded seemed a tad risky, given the dire warnings. By Friday, the fear had subsided and I scoffed at the folly of my concern.

The media is partly to blame for fueling my hysteria, but I do think that much of the hubbub was just precaution in the face of the unknown. Had this flu been more plague-like, the quick quarantines and closings may have helped stave of the catastrophic. Of course had news broke last week that the Octamom was again knocked-up, most of us may have never heard of swine flu.

British Fans Would Have Stoned Me By Now

The Shamrocks fell again on Saturday. It’s only matter of time before parents start clamoring for a coaching change. If I’m going to wear the brown hat over our one-and-three record, then I’m going out on my own terms. I may pull a Buttermaker and start bringing a cooler of beer to practice.*

Mark’s game was rained out, denying him the opportunity to flop in the mud and then look around to see if any girls might be impressed by it.

And after a so-so effort during a make-up game on Thursday, Maria turned in a stellar performance on Saturday, scoring a goal and earning an assist in her team’s 3-1 victory. Nothing makes me prouder than to see the look of determination on her face when she goes on the attack.

Smarmy

When those on the left declare that R. Limbaugh is pompous, condescending and a manipulative partisan, I can not argue. But when those same people swear admiration for this smug clown, then their objectivity is clearly suspect. They are, afterall, birds of a feather.

Let’s Kill Saturday Night (after injuring it on Friday)

For you Facebookies, the lineup for the American Music Show is available here. Robbie Fulks and Dave Alvin (formerly of the Blasters and X) headline the two-day weekend affair. I was listening to some tracks by the Cynics and the Handcuffs this afternoon to get a feel for the rest of the lineup. This most definitely will be a kicker of the highest kicking order.

*Name the TV show and the movie referenced in this paragraph.

Qik-n-EZ is advertising a special for lovers of imitation, beer-like beverages. Coors Light is selling 18-packs for $10.99 with, get this, a $7 mail-in rebate offer. Not accounting for the devaluation of the dollar in the time it takes for the rebate check to arrive, that comes to $3.99 per 18-pack or 22 cents per golden bottle. Party on, Rockies fans.

Well, long story short, the drinkers of this particular low-end beer proved to be a particularly thrifty lot and they redeemed their rebates in great numbers, causing great damage to the brewer’s bottom line. But that was a long time ago, so why not try it again during an economic downturn when people are doing everything possible, short of not buying beer, to save money.

The First Church of the Prescription and Over-Prized Sundries

When the Walgreen’s on Monroe relocated across the street to a new building, I felt that their previous home was destined to remain abandoned. The building is too big for a cellular service center or a nail salon. Even most restaurants, of the casual variety, don’t require that much space, except for maybe those buffet operations. A dollar store? Perhaps, but that retail model seems to have grown stagnant.

I suppose that religion, as beer, does fare well in times of economic hardship.

I Called This One

You’ve probably all seen the video of Susan Boyle, the unassuming contestant on Britain’s Got Talent who wowed the audience with a beautiful rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables.

I am not an American Idol fan, in fact, I’m a detractor. I’ve seen enough of it to be disgusted with all of the caterwauling, melisma-izing, and general "look-at-me" vocalization that pervades that stage. I’ve said, on more than one occasion, that if a contestant would come out and perform a song from Les Miz – with even half of the grace, beauty and humility with which Frances Ruffelle brought to her singing in the role of Eponine – then that person would shame the competition. She probably wouldn’t win, I conceded, but she would reveal how fraudulent that show is as a showcase of talent.

I simply can’t tolerate the superficiality of it all.

Neither of these women is Susan Boyle.

I Am Un Chien Andalusia

You’re unlikely to find Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV (aka Black Francis, Frank Black) prostituting himself to the American Idol demographic (see: Tarantino, Quentin), but I did find him and the Pixies in the Wii store. Victor and I can now rock to Debaser and Monkey Gone to Heaven on Guitar Hero.

I Was Published in California

Nothing new to plug this week, but my recent story on homebrewers was published in the Ridgecrest, California newspaper. Finally, the people of the Mojave can read my stuff. How fortunate for them.

Four Leaves Win! Four Leaves Win!

The Shamrocks netted their first goals and posted their first victory of the season, despite being without several key players, a feat that can only be attributed to deft coaching. Tessie continues to improve and Victor was a bulldog in pursuit of the ball, especially late in the game when the Shamrocks were protecting a 3 to 2 lead. He was sweating so much that by game’s end he looked as if he’d been doused by a Gator Ade bucket.

Mark may never develop the soccer skills of David Beckham, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see Posh Spice on his arm at kindergarten graduation.

Living to Eat Another Day

After the Shamrock’s big win, a couple of the families retired to D’Arcy’s for post-game sustenance. Maria, Tessie, Victor and I joined them. Of course, you can’t go to the Pint and not order a ’shoe, but for better or worse, it’s gotten to the point where I feel guilty about it. It weighs upon my conscience almost as heavily as the calories weigh upon my gut. I ended up skipping dinner last night as penance, but know that someday, I will sin again.

The solution to maritime piracy would seem to be the arming of merchant ships. The method with which pirates board a ship, using hooks and ropes to scale the side, does leave them vulnerable to being picked off or winged. Yet with most solutions that involve fire power, there is a downside, in addition to that of those being shot at.

According to one report I read, some captains are reluctant to have firearms aboard. While acknowledging that they’d come in handy against pirates, they’re concerned about the many days upon a ship when swashbucklers are not a concern.

Life upon a merchant ship can be both stressful and fraught with tedium. Personalities clash and, stuck in close quarters, there’s nowhere to retreat. Apparently, fights between sailors aren’t uncommon and can sometimes get quite violent. As such, access to a gun rack might not be the best idea.

That said, I think there has to be some way to have guns on board for self defense without turning the deck into the OK Corral when some dirty vermin gets caught sneaking an Ace out of his sleeve.

Voguing the Dark Continent

Not that I thought much of Madonna before, but this picture really makes me despise her.

“Hello Edna, darling. I’m going to Africa next week to save a child. No, just one cute one. Listen, since Africa is a continent that is ravaged by wars and genocide, where rogue armies force millions into exile and corrupt generals confiscate foreign aid while their people are besieged by famine, I thought it might be fun to go with a military look. Be a dear and have your people find some designer combat boots and a cute pair of fatigues to go with them. Oh yeah, and see if Giovanni can design me a burkha to wear to my trip to the Middle East next month. Something sheer that shows off my biceps and ass.”

This Should Be Worth Something

I think it’s safe to assume that when someone volunteers to bring the rolls to Easter dinner, their altruism is predicated on the desire not to expend too much culinary capital. In most cases, their efforts will be limited to visiting the bakery of a local grocer, although they might get adventurous and pick up a couple of tubes of crescent rolls and try to figure out how to fire up the Amana.

My wife, on the other hand, takes a rudimentary dinner offering, and, to quote Lugasse, “kicks it up a notch.”

For our Easter feast, Tammy concocted three flavors of homemade rolls: rosemary, flack seed, and garlic with sesame seed. More hearty than flaky, they have a focaccia-like quality that’s quite delectable.  I’m enjoying one right now with my salad, and it occurs to me that they would also make a fine sandwich. That leftover pork waiting at home has just been repurposed.

SHG Expanding Carbon Footprint, Thousands to Be Displaced

News that SHG would be building a new football stadium was met with previously unheard allegations that they recruit football players. Well, that’s not exactly accurate. News that the SHG will be producing a spring musical is also usually met with accusations of football malfeasance.

I’m not naïve to the realities here. There are kids who went through a public elementary school system, sometimes in other towns, who enrolled at SHG primarily to play for a championship-caliber football program. This does present an advantage. But lost in all of cries of woe because public schools can only draw players from within their boundaries is the fact that that isn’t true.

If a former Lanphier basketball star, currently residing in Petersburg, wishes for his son to follow in his footsteps as a Lion, he can arrange that without having to move to Springfield’s northend. The catch is, if I gather correctly, that he’d have to pay out-of-district tuition. Ah, tuition – the same price one must pay to attend SHG.

I realize that not many parents will pay tuition to send their kids to a public school when there’s another they can attend for free (although some will play fast and loose with residency rules to attend a public school of choice.) That some will pay for their kids to attend SHG is a testament to the education that they offer. And at some point, you have to stop punishing a school, through so-called equalizers, for being a good school.

The Shams Rock

I undertook the role of youth soccer coach reluctantly. Victor’s team from last year had disbanded and Tessie expressed an interest in playing as well, so I sent a letter to their classmates’ parents to see if others were interested. In the letter, I volunteered my services to get the team organized and to help where I could, but explained that since my wife works occasionally on Saturdays, I wouldn’t be able to commit to being the coach. I quickly learned that in the realm of youth sports, merely uttering the word coach is akin to signing a binding contract.

Much to my surprise, I’m enjoying myself. Soccer is great because no matter what a kid’s skill level, if they hustle, they can do good things. And while our team, the Shamrocks, is young and inexperienced, they are out there battling hard against teams that look to have forged some birth certificates. It’s quite heartening seeing my young charges giving it their all and I’m sure their efforts are put forth in glory of their beloved coach.

The other two kids are playing this season as well. Maria scored her team’s first goal of the year, the prettiest of her career. Mark played well, but when I suggested that some of the falls he takes are counter-productive and perhaps deliberate, he misinterpreted my concern: “It’s okay. I don’t mind getting dirty.”

Andy and Francis Corcoran owned the Mecca, a tavern located at 2001 N. 11th Street, just off Peoria Road. Today, the building is home to Dude’s Saloon. I don’t know Dude, nor have I visited his saloon, but I doubt his bartenders wear ties or his waitresses look matronly.

My only memories of the Mecca are of my grandma coming home from waitressing. I also remember that my grandpa drank near beer, a non-alcoholic version of the real thing. I believe his brand was Kingsbury.

This first picture looks like a still shot taken on the set of a Frank Capra movie. Now there’s a guy you could tell your troubles to. My grandpa also used to say things such as, "keep your nose clean, Bub." He’s right out of central casting.

For some, it’s scaling a mountain summit; for others it’s kicking heroine. As for me, I conquered one of my life’s goals by completing a Sunday New York Times Crossword Puzzle. I’ve come close many times, even completing it once, only to discover an error. But this time, I was perfect. Granted, it was fairly easy for a Sunday puzzle. There was only one word I’d never heard of (Ypres – a city in Belgium), and the theme was pretty straight-forward. But none of this distracts from my feeling of triumph. Does this make me a nerd?

As Sure as the Moss Grows in Killarney

Enjoy the warm weather while you can. Next Saturday is the St. Pat’s Day parade, an event that annually lures  cold fronts down from Canada and sends temperatures plummeting. We always have temps in the 50s and 60s during the week leading up to the parade, only to have them pulled out from under us by the time we take our place on the 5^th Street curb. So predictable is this phenomena that my dad is making a batch of chilli next Saturday, a dish he only makes in chilly weather.

Lights That Flash in the Evening

The weather outside will be inconsequential after the parade, as Justin Townes Earle (Steve’s boy) and Jason Ringenberg take the stage at the Hoogland as part of the Bedrock 66 concert series. You may be familiar with Ringenberg from his Jason and the Scorchers days. I’m less familiar with Earle, but I’ve been listening to songs on his MySpace page and he does a mandolin-accompanied cover of the Replacement’s “I Can’t Hardly Wait,” of which I highly approve.

Speaking of hot shows at the Hoogland, Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles released their first single and two non-album tracks as an EP on iTunes last week. The album will be released later this month. It’s more indie-rockier than previous cuts. Their supporting tour hasn’t been announced yet, but I’ll post when they get near to thee.

A Plea of Redemption/A Call for Justice

Last week I was rightly taken to task by Yellowdog for being part of a team that purchased mulligans* at a trivia contest. I defended myself by stating, correctly mind you, that it simply isn’t possible to win without them if they are offered. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel dirty about it.

Mulligans, even more than vague or inaccurate questions/answers, are threatening the sport that I love. Organizers simply must find another way of raising additional funds without sullying the sanctity of the contest. I may have to resort to the most radical form of protest against social ill currently available to us. That’s right, I’m starting a Facebook group: Citizens For the Purity of Trivia Nights. Join the fight, won’t you.

Krauthammer

While I remain liberal on many social issues, this is why my fiscality tends to be conservativy.**

I Am So Not Unconflicted Over Jennifer Aniston

I’ve not been a Jennifer Aniston fan. Most of this stems from her association with the show, Friends, which I abhorred for its one-note characters, base sexual innuendo and the gross cliche-ing of the word "so." She also ended up on the wrong side of a tiff with Angelina. I am nothing if not loyal to Angelina.

Yet my Aniston aversion has softened as of late. She appeared in two movies that I really like, Office Space and The Good Girl, and although she wasn’t really the reason I like those movies, she did bring something to her roles.

The other reason I’ve come to admire her more is because she is popping up quite frequently in magazines and on Web sites and, quite frankly, she looks amazing. The problem is, that seems to be the entire point of her celebrity at this point.

I don’t recall accolades for any recent performances, but the press is relentless in telling us how incredible she looks. There’s that, and her courage in the face of being perhaps the most celebrated female cuckold of all time.

It’s pretty amazing how her publicist has been able to keep her on the A list and the covers of supermarket tabloids.

Saturday Chore Watch

Hats off to my kids for picking up twigs and pieces of bark from the yard and putting them in a yard waste bag. Then pouring the bag into the wagon. Then dumping the wagon into the yard. Thanks for the effort.***

*For those not familiar with this practice, teams are allowed to purchase a set number of mulligans (usually ten) which are used in lieu of correct answers to win points on difficult questions. As I posted on Facebook: "they’re bullcrap. Imagine facing fourth and long on your on 25 and being able to buy yourself a first down. Or if your worst free-throw shooter gets fouled in the waning seconds of the game and you can decide to just purchase the winning buckets. Who could be proud of that. It’s a g-d travesty. Pure, unadulterated greed and it’s ruining trivia nights across the country."****

**Our previous administration wasn’t good at this either, so offering up their record as a defense for the current is no defense.

***Victor did go on to put in a good day’s work and earned five points towards the 30 needed for a new DS game.

****You know you’re important when you can quote yourself.

My column this month is on practicing etiquette in everyday situations. The proper thing for you to do, gentle reader, after carefully considering my words, is to write a comment congratulating the newspaper for publishing such wisdom and suggest that your life has been made the better because of it and perhaps even offer some sort of monetary tribute to the author. It is, the right thing to do.

The blogs remains the same

The tax-evading Obama cabinet appointees were a big deal to Republican bloggers who probably wouldn’t have cared that much had they been McCain appointees, which, if they had been, Democrat bloggers would have had a field day with, but as it stands, under Obama, they really don’t find it worth mentioning. It’s a relief, really, that despite all of the historic change, the blogosphere remains the same.

Commercial Real Estate Mystery Theatre

Since Damon’s closed (I believe it was after the infamous tornadoes), a restaurant only a half block away has transitioned from LaSorella to the Club House and now Kiku. Yet Damon’s former structure remains vacant. Why would that be?

Is the asking price too much? If so, why?

Is there something about the building’s configuaration that makes it unsuitable for other proprietors?

Or is it, as I suspect, HAUNTED BY SOMETHING SCARY OR OTHERWISE OTHERWORLDLY!?!?!?!?!?

Seriously though, I do wonder why it hasn’t been purchased and refigured or demolished.

I told you they would rock

Since I haven’t been blogging much, I haven’t yet mentioned what a totally rocked-out performance Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles gave at the Hoogland last month. It was great to see them play to a packed room and their performance most definitely surpassed expectations. After the show, I pardoned myself from a 15-year self-exile from the Curve Inn* to hang out with the band for a bit. I can’t wait for their triumphant return after their new album comes out.

I think that’s called stage presence.

The incomparable Binky, the irresistible Tammy, and some homeless guy.

Headline comprehension 101

If you saw the headline, "Tiger Wood’s Wife Has a Son," would you be under the impression that said wife gave birth recently? Would you be under the impression that Tiger was the father?

For some reason, when I read this headline I thought the story was going to be that it was discovered that Mrs. Tiger had a son from a previous coupling. Was I wrong in interpreting this way?

Although, biologically speaking, the women do the "having" when it comes to child birth, when speaking of couples who go cooperatively into the reproduction process, however, it’s common to say that "they had a son" when announcing the blessed event. And since it is Tiger who makes the birth newsworthy, then couldn’t the headline have read: "It’s a boy for Tiger Woods." It would have made clear that Tiger is the father and I doubt anyone would be confused as to who did the actual birthing.

Clearly, it’s a matter of perception and perhaps mine is faulty in this instance. But it isn’t on this one, found on Slate:

"Would the mayor of Portland be out of office if he were’nt gay?"

My initial interpretation was that the mayor was out of office, and discrimination may have played a part in his dismissal. That was wrong.

The mayor is still in office, and the author is suggesting that if the mayor were a heterosexual, he would have been thrown out. (With out getting into a debate of the case, the mayor is accused of having had a sexual relationship with an underage male. The author makes the argument that if a heteorsexual male mayor had a relationship with an underage girl, he would have been dumped immediately.)

Obviously, the headline can be read to convey either meaning. So how could have this been written to avoid confusion?

How about: "Was Portland mayor saved by gayness?"

I think that’s clear.

Gimmee an M Gimmee an A Gimmee an R Gimmee a K

There was apparently a high school cheerleading competition in town this weekend. I know this not because I’m perverted, but because at mass at Little Flower last evening there were rows of warmup-suited girls from Catholic high schools north of I-80. We happened to sit behind one such row. This afforded Mark, our youngest, the opportunity to hit on them.

He started shyly, peaking over the pew, shyly smiling when would one would turn around and notice him. But once communion was over, and he hadn’t made sufficient headway, he became more bold: "Hey girls," he announced, "look at this." When they turned, he held back his jacket to reveal his new St. Patrick’s Day T-shirt**, that, as luck should have it, read: "I’m not lucky. I’m good."

This of course caused much laughter, but one girl must have caught his eye because Mark whispered to me that she was going to go on a date with him. After mass ended, Mark made a point of walking up to the girls’ pew and waved goodbye to his chosen one. As we made are way out of the church, he spotted her again in the vestibule. Stopping behind her, Mark tugged on her jacket and again waved when she turned around. He then proceeded on to give an exhibit of karate moves and break dance spins. I’ve seen him do this before, also when trying to showoff for an older girl. They seem to like it.

They say that the nut doesn’t fall too far from the tree, but in Mark’s case, the nut was swept away by a heavy gale and somehow landed under Matthew Mcconaughey’s tree.

Well, that’s it. I’ll write again in another month or so. Keep answering those trivia questions.

*I wasn’t banned or anything, it was mostly due to good taste.

**It could have been worse, believe me.