News that stays news

This is what I learned from the television news.

It's hot. People should drink water when they are hot. There is a higher demand for electricity. Wear light clothing. It's very hot. Very, very hot.

If you were an asshole to begin with, your assholicity will only increase while you are being arrested for driving drunk.

In spite of intestinal diseases, mechanical failures and the occasional lost passenger, cruise ships are still safer than bike riding in New York City.

George W. Bush looks authoritative when striding about. When he stops striding and starts talking, you realize that he is the most expensively educated idiot in all of history.

It has never been so hot. The humidity will make it feel like 150 degrees. Lower at the shore. Wear a hat.

Gasoline prices are going up. This fact may be related to the war(s) in the Middle East, but no one is sure how.

Athletes who win are rewarded with money and adulation. They will do anything to win. This is wrong.

A very rich woman is possibly being neglected by her son. She is 104 years old. Someone should do something.

Once again, still hot.

You rang?

Sometimes Mo Dowd gets it exactly right, but not in her review of the G8 Players' production of "Helzapoppin 2006," I'm afraid. Stevens, the butler in "The Remains of the Day," as portrayed by Anthony Hopkins, had a dignity that Tony Blair will never achieve. You saw him hovering around his loutish master -- if Stevens, or Hudson, or even Lurch, were addressed in that offhand manner ("Yo, Blair!") he would have given notice instantly. Tony looked more like one of the Queen's corgis hoping for a table scrap. I wouldn't be surprised if mild seismic activity in the vicinity of Blenheim Palace proved to be Mr. Churchill turning over.

It was a bizarre summit for a bizarre time. Vladimir Putin evidently thought he was the host of a Friars Club roast, cracking wise about Blair's pounds-for-peerages scandal as if everything in Russia weren't for sale, including seats in the increasingly irrelevant Duma. The German chancellor probably wishes she had brought her pepper spray. Another milestone was passed in German-American relations:

1962: "Ich bin ein Berliner."

1983: "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall."

2006: "I thought you were gonna ask me about the pig."

Me? No, no, I'm Canadian. From Tranta. Go Jays, eh?

Twelve million and one

According to the New York Times, there are twelve million bloggers on this planet, mostly young, mostly suburban, and all replete with opinions. Some of their stuff is wonderful, much is tedious, and nobody could possibly read it all. I have sampled about a hundred blogs, and nobody seems to be typing for me, a middle-aged, currently unemployed urban woman who has an anarchic sense of humor and a lot of anger to discharge on a daily basis. The Middle East is exploding, the heat and humidity are rising, and I have a lot of time on my hands. Besides, I can't currently afford anti-psychotic drugs. What better time to join the chorus?

In the days to come, I expect to express a lot of immoderate opinions about politics, sports, movies, aging, fresh fruit, and an assortment of other topics. If someone reads them, so much the better, but this is mostly for me. It's just too hot to scream out the window.

Why Buttermilk Sky? I like the song.