This Is Iron Eagle To Base, Come In Base

In these troubled and complicated times it's good to know that our elected leaders approach their responsibilities with a clear headed seriousness.

Leaders like Sam Johnson, a Republican from Texas who has personally volunteered to fly an F-16 to Syria and nuke the WMD's he is sure are buried there. We have to assume Mr. Johnson is serious too, because he told the story at a veterans’ celebration at Suncreek United Methodist Church in Allen, Texas, on Feb. 19, and before that to President Bush and Rep. Kay Granger (R-Texas) on the porch of the White House. We figure he had to be sober one of those times.

That pesky Saddam. That's so like him to hide WMD's in Syria. Just like we used to hide Playboys under our brother's bed. Until we found the ones dad had hidden behind the furnace that is.

There's no fooling Representative Johnson though, (who probably had much better hiding places for his Playboys) and to show he's a man who's willing to stand up for what he believes all he asks from the country he loves so much is a couple of nuclear devices, some jet fuel and a compass.

That's our government. Making the world safe for democracy, one Arab country at a time.

Friday Hound Blogging

Today we turn our attention from the triumphant return to Europe by Bush and his retinue to matters of great import, namely, finding homes for rescued racing greyhounds.

We have been asked on occasion why we refer to these dogs as "rescued" racing greyhounds. "Are these dogs in some sort of danger?" queries our innocent interlocutor. Is Sponge Bob a homo? we reply.

Basically the dogs have three choices when they can no longer serve the greed of their human overlords: Death, being sold for research, or adoption. If the dogs are injured, they may not even get the chance to be sold into research, let alone adopted. It's lights out buster, we need your crate for the next profit center.
So, meet this week's escapee, Miz Jerzey:


Jerzey is a little shy in new situations. She is friendly and likes affection. She is easygoing and quiet. She is starting to play and get into things that she thinks are fun. She is very expressive with her ears. She holds her ears funny; she holds one straight up in the air and one folded forward – kind of like a donkey. For more information about this dog, and other rescued racing greyhounds looking for homes, go here. If you want to know more about the plight of racing greyhounds go here.

Don't Make Me Use This Thing

Ah, school days. Passing notes, shoving little Eddie Debeviak into his locker, throwing spit balls, shooting rubber bands into Elizabeth Arlen's poofy hair. Who knew that was a felony?

Apparently not13 year old Robert Gomez who finds himself neck deep in the criminal justice system because he "tossed" a rubber band on his teacher's desk. "Tossed?" Robbie, baby, you need some technique. We prefer the index finger pull back ourselves, but the modified thumb and forefinger release also has its advantages.

Apparently Gomez's lack of knowledge of rubber band release technology averted a tragedy, but ever vigilant, the school slapped him with a 10-day suspension for threatening his teacher with what administrators say was a weapon. Well, no wonder. People can go into a Staples and buy whole boxes of rubber bands without even so much as showing their driver's license. It was only a matter of time before one of those things got into the wrong hands. Just remember folks, rubber bands don't kill people. People kill people.

They said if he would have aimed it a little more to the left, actually tried to shoot it rather than toss it, and if he would have gotten it closer to the teacher's face, and if she would have sat perfectly still, or maybe leaned a little closer, and maybe let him try a couple of times too, he would have hit her in the eye. If she had taken her glasses off.

Gomez is being punished for a Level 4 offense -- the highest Level at the school. Other violations that also receive level 4 punishment include arson, assault and battery, bomb threats and explosives, pulling Jenny Waker's hair at recess, and calling the gym teacher gay, according to the Code of Student Conduct.

"We don't sit still for any of the street punk action here," said Principal Waylon Bitteroot Jr., "and it's not because he's Mexican either. He'll get a fair hearing before the Board. Just like the colored kid did. What was his name? Used to go here a year or so ago. Got caught with a whole box of paper clips in his desk."

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

Everybody knows old people are a problem. If it weren't for old people we wouldn't have the social security crisis. Young people are a problem too, but at least they can be thrown in prison or executed. Old people because they're, umm...old, tend not to run afoul of the law that often.

Still, because they're old and tend to break down a lot and it costs money to keep them alive, but since they can't work they don't make money and need programs like medicaid to pay for keeping them minimally healthy.

Who pays for this? We do. People too young to need it and too old to worry about being thrown in prison for taking a sleeping pill.

The old people maintenance cost creates quite a dilemma for legislators who are trying to keep old people alive long enough to vote for them, but know that younger people are more likely to remember it's election day and are also less likely to forget who raised their taxes.

Well, Mr. or Ms. Legislator, worry no more. Alabama has come up with a solution. A proposed constitutional amendment to expand and tax bingo. Brilliant!

Think about it. Who plays bingo? Old people. So, we tax the money they lose, then return it to them in the form of drugs and medical attention that keeps them going long enough to lose some more money so we can turn around and use that to buy them more drugs.

Bingo games are currently legal in in Macon and Greene counties in Alabama, but local constitutional amendments require proceeds from the games go to charities. Charities? Get real. Who is a bigger charity case than some old geezer spending the last of his social security check on cat food. And he doesn't have a cat.

If this amendment passes it would be that geezer's lawful duty to spend his last penny on bingo so that money could be returned to him in the form of a Viagra prescription. In fact, if he didn't spend money on bingo, we could probably throw him in jail. Wait, that is the solution to the youth problem. Hmmm...don't get old in Alabama.

Somebody Needs A Spanking

This is getting a little tiring. No sooner to we admit to a, uh, premature snarkification on the Virginia baggy pants bill than the legislature drops (we'll let that go this time) the bill.

Then we turn our attention to the Virginia Christians Rule bill and now the legislature drops that too. Come on guys, make up your minds. You think we've got nothing to do but watch you slap the monkey until we notice? Well, let us tell you something Mr. Legislator with too much time on his hands...uh...umm...actually, we don't have anything better to do. Hey, who's that going "neener neener neener" down there?

No more legislatus interruptus for us. We're going to Texas and watch the Republicans in flagrante delecto all over those poor Democrats. Hmmm...Where is Jeff/Jim by the way?

It's Not What You Think...OK It Is

We like to say we're big enough here at IM Central to admit when we are wrong. We like to say that, but we seldom do anything about it. Truth be told, we don't even like to say it that much, and generally mutter it under our breath when forced into a corner. Sort of like Jeff/Jim Gannon/Guckert had to admit he wasn't a reporter and was really a male escort working undercover in the White House Press Room. Perhaps undercover isn't the right word. Incognito. Yeah. That will do.

In fact it was the Jeff/Jim affair--well, let's rephrase that too--the Jeff/Jim contretemps that got us thinking about the whole--and pardon our language here--credibility thing. As we look around the landscape we see that those who garner the most respect are those who are straightforward, honest and above board in their dealings with others. People like...like...ummm...Ok we can't think of anyone right now, but we know they are out there.

And we want to be taken seriously too, so in an effort to repair any damage to our reputation, which several people have told us we have, we hereby make the following...er...adjustment to one of our posts.

A while back we wrote that the Virginia Legislature was considering a bill to outlaw baggy pants. We had some fun with this at the expense of those serious and committed legislators from the state of Virginia. We have learned that bill has been dropped. (Dropped. Get it? The baggy pants bill has been dropped! We crack us up! Crack! Ha! there's another one!)

But we digress. Today we learned that the serious and committed legislators from the state of Virginia have replaced the baggy pants bill with the "Christians Rule" bill. This law would allow preaching, praying and proselytizing on all public property in the state, including public schools. Or, as they like to say in Virginia: (Motto: We're gonna beat you with this stick until you're saved) The Three P's of salvation.

The bill's sponsor, Charles W. Carrico Sr., contends there is a growing bias against Christians. They have to be driven around in cabs by brown people who may not have the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal savior, or worse horrendous body odor. He said other nations upheld their founding religious tenets and compelled respect for them, specifically noting the Muslim culture of Arab countries as an example. Well, except for that self flagellating thing they do. That looks painful. And the fasting? We're not too keen on that either. And the part where they blow themselves up for Allah. We don't think that's a good idea.

Look. If you don't do what they say they shoot you, OK? None of this namby pamby love your neighbor as yourself, or do unto others crap. That's what we're talking about. If we could just put a few non-believers to the lash, or stone an adulteress we could get this country back on the right track.

And if the amendment that defines "modest dress" for women passes with the bill, we plan to revisit the whole baggy pants thing.

Friday Hound Blogging

Ah, another Friday reddens the eastern sky and it is once again time to turn our thoughts from Jeff/Jim Gannon/Guckertgate, Social Security collapse, and Nuclear Korea to more important matters, namely rescued racing greyhounds.

Regular readers of this blog (and that would be my mom) will remember that Friday is the day we feature rescued racing greyhounds who are in search of a permanent domiciles, having been evicted from their previous digs because they were no longer sufficiently profitable in the eyes of their human overlords. If you don't know about the plight of racing greyhounds go here.

Greyhounds make great pets because they are known as forty mile an hour couch potatoes. By that we mean that as sprinters (a race takes less than a minute) they are used to going all out for a short period of time, then being returned to their cages by the minions of their overlords where they spend 18 - 20 hours a day. Kind of the same relationship you have with your car. Keep it in the garage until you want to use it. Take it out, use it. Put it back. Come to think of it, that could be the greyhound motto: Take me out. Use me. Put me back. And when I get too slow, dump me. Meet this week's dumpee, Pharaoh.


Pharaoh is very affectionate and loving. He is easy going and mellow when there is not a lot of activity in the home – but will get playful when other dogs are playing around him. He is happy and gentle. He will rest his head in your lap for attention. He wants to be his family's bed partner. He enjoys playing in the yard. See what we mean about couch potato? For more information about this dog, and other rescued racing greyhounds looking for homes, go here.

If You Pass Notes In This Class, Do They Burst Into Flame?

Occasionally we have shared some of our experiences as inmates of the educational/industrial system on these pages. We can do that now that the nightmares have stopped. We mean the ones our teachers were having. For our part there's the drinking thing, but that may be more the result of a personality flaw than the efforts of those entrusted with our intellectual development.

We have long thought that the greatest drawback to schooling is the offerings. English, math, science, the list goes on. And on and on and on. How many generations have to learn the quadratic equation before we realize that one can live a full and happy life and never come across a graph of an exponential. We know about Shakespeare. We've seen the movie and the movie and the movie and the movie.

Which is why we were both surprised and excited by this story. The Vatican, not exactly known as a hotbed of innovation, (hence the surprise) is offering a class on Satan, black magic and exorcism. Just the list of potential guest speakers alone is enough to send us to the Registrar's Office. (hence the excitement)

As the article says, "The pontifical academy is run by the Legionaries of Christ, a conservative order, and teachers for the class include exorcists and psychiatrists." Ok, so the Legionaries of Christ sounds like a traveling baseball team in Alabama, but wouldn't you want to be there on exorcism demonstration day?

And wouldn't it be fun to listen to the debate between the exorcists and the psychiatrists afterwards? "Flee Beelzebub, I command it!"

"Well, actually this condition is brought about by withdrawal of affection by the mother. Perhaps he was weaned too soon."

Heck, just the name of the school, "Regina Apostolorum" is enough to get us applying for financial aid. Imagine the confusion on the other team when our quarterback shouts out signals in Latin. And what a crowd pleaser each time a player on the opposing team bursts into flame.

Didn't Jesus Say Something About Casting Satan Into A Sewage Pond?

Well, it looks like the state is out to persecute good Christian men and women who are only trying to save children's immortal souls from the fires of perdition, or worse, Democrats.

Meet Herman Fountain Jr. who, when he's not consulting with plumbers about the sanitation...well, lack of sanitation at his school, is busy negotiating with the state (and we feel obligated to point out that state is Mississippi by the way) to keep his "strong but loving discipline coupled with academic excellence and a genuine spiritual experience" bringing life changes to wayward teens.

And how does he bring about these life changes? Well, not by making student swim in a sewage pond. Not by sitting on their heads and beating their legs with a mop handle. Not by throwing tables and chairs at them. And not by making them listen to preaching tapes for hours. And how do we know? Because he tells us so on the web page that explains how he doesn't. And don't give us any of the Methinks he doth protest too much crap either.

Can this good man be blamed for loving children too much? It seems so. Since 1988 he's been opening these life preservers for children and the state has been closing them down just as fast. We're up to five now, but who's counting.

How can a school with a discipline code that utilizes the military discipline format simply because it teaches conformity to authority, structure and submission be targeted for this level of interference? Got to be homos in there someplace, or worse Democrats.

Scotty! I Need Those Engines!

We're not the types who are constantly going around spreading doom and gloom or worrying about the color of the threat level, particularly now that the election is over and we don't have a threat level anymore, so we have to admit we're becoming more than a little annoyed at the hand wringing and nay saying each time our Commander in Chief's missile protection umbrella fails as it did again yesterday.

Common sense tells us that it's only a matter of time before Osama gets the technology to launch intercontinental ballistic missiles. OK a matter of time in a geologic sense, but why wait when we can spend the billions of dollars that we'll save by privatizing social security now?

Besides, this failure wasn't a failure of the system like the previous five, it was a "malfunction in support equipment at the launch site." In other words, we couldn't shoot off. Something about a fuse being overloaded or some such. Physical Plant is handling it.

Now before you cynics get all uppity and start talking about how can we put our faith in a system that doesn't work, even when it does work, rest assured that, had this been an actual attack, there were backup measures to launch the missile. True, Lieutenant Bob got the matches wet and didn't have a lighter this time, but bids are being solicited for a gross of Bic disposable lighters which will be kept in a secure area next to the commissary.

Besides, this is cutting edge science. You can't expect things to go smoothly every time. As the Defense Department says:

Officials stressed that the last two tests were far more realistic, and thus more technologically challenging than the previous ones.

"This was a much more robust and difficult test," said Chris Taylor, another spokesman for the Missile Defense Agency.

See? We're failing much more sophisticated tests today than in the past.

And Quit Making Them There Free Holies Too

We generally don't like to get too close to the judicial system here at IM Central. Too many bad memories, (some of which may still be on the books) but when we saw the headline that read Judge Tells Moms To Learn English, our interest was piqued.

What first drew our interest was the byline: Lebanon, Tennessee. Having traveled extensively in the south, we are aware that, in the first place, they don't speak English in Tennessee. We were once in a grocery store down there and, upon completing our purchase were asked if we "wanted a poke."

You can imagine what ran through our minds. Well, maybe you can't, so we'll tell you. We weren't sure if we were being challenged to a fight, or asked to engage in something kinky.

It turns out a poke is a bag, so you can see our point about English. But back to the story. It turns out Wilson County Judge Barry Tatum has been ordering Mexican immigrant women to learn English, or risk losing their children to protective services. Apparently only English speakers make good mothers. The article says:

"The court specially informs the mother that if she does not make the effort to learn English, she is running the risk of losing any connection — legally, morally and physically — with her daughter forever,"

Fathers, it seems, can speak any language they want. The judge says he does it to help mothers "assimilate" into society. Obviously, if you want to keep your child in his jurisdiction, resistance is futile. And the rest of the collective agrees. Bob Bright (Yeah. we know, but we don't go for the easy joke around here) Bob Bright, who owns a local insurance agency said, "If I were in Mexico, I'd learn to speak Hispanic."

Bob, we're talking about the mothers here. If you were in Mexico, you'd have to learn to speak Herspanic.

Friday Hound Blogging

Once again we turn our attention to the only breed of dog mentioned in the Bible (proverbs, 30:29-31), staple of literature ("I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start." King Henry V Act iii Scene 1); and companion of kings. (A law passed during the reign of King Canute stated "No mean person may keep any Greyhounds." The law also stated that the destruction of a Greyhound should carry the same capital punishment as the murder of a man). Admittedly, these noble animals have fallen upon hard times and are relegated to eking out a meager living running around a dirt oval while their human overlords count the cash.

A real Dickensonian story. But you can turn the worst of times into the best of times. If you don't know about the plight of racing greyhounds go here. And then meet Rock All Night:

Rock is a mellow boy. He is just starting to show his personality. He is affectionate and loving. He wants affection, but he does not “ask” for it. He will stand about 2 inches behind his foster mom waiting to be petted and push his head against her body. He is very sweet and has started giving kisses. He is very attentive and loves to stare out the window. He will run to the window when he hears a strange noise. For more information about this dog, and other rescued racing greyhounds looking for homes, go here.

These Legislators "Crack" Me Up

Attention Terrorists. If you plan on attacking Virginia, make sure you are appropriately dressed. That's the message Virginia lawmakers want you to take away from this bill which, as you might imagine for a state whose motto is "Virginia. No Butts About It," passed the House 60 to 34.

Algie T Howell Jr. who sponsored the Bill as a way to get back at society for the teasing he took in school because his name was Algie had this to say:

It's not an attack on baggy pants. To vote for this bill would be a vote for character, to uplift your community and to do something good not only for the state of Virginia, but for this entire country.

"Uplift." Get it? That whacky Algie. What a card. We're not sure why the entire country would benefit from this law, unless Virginians have particularly bad taste in underwear, or ugly butts. Perhaps one of Mr. Howell Jr.'s constituents in the audience can query the legislator on that issue.

The article goes on to wonder if the law would apply to plumbers, carpenters and other laborers who "have problems with low riding pants." A fair concern we believe. After all, we can't have the construction industry grinding to a halt because the Bubbas are all down at the courthouse contesting their tickets. "But yer honor, ma tool belt's a might heavy and I lost sum weight recently, since ma wif runned off ta Utah with Parson Billy Bob."

Still, John Reid, a supporter of Mr. Howell Jr.'s--or maybe we should say someone who agrees with Mr. Howell Jr. instead of "supporter" in the interests of clarity and all. Mr. Reid observed that, "Underwear is called underwear for a reason — because it is normally worn under your clothes." Obviously never been to a Madonna concert.

Three Jobs Huh? Well It's All Pocket Change To Me Honey

The Compassionate Conservative was in Nebraska yesterday, selling his antiSocial inSecurity program and it seems reality came upside his head.

While bloviating in Omaha, the First Privatizer encountered one Mary Mornin, an actual person who somehow got into the event. The Man Who Wants Us To Know He's Reading I Am Charlotte Simmons (but not for the sex scenes) "comforted Mornin on the security of social security stating that 'the promises made will be kept by the government."

That's when she told him "That's good, because I work three jobs and I feel like I contribute." You work three jobs, the incredulous leader of the free world responded. Well, isn't that "uniquely American."

So the guy who has never met a failure someone couldn't bail him out of thinks working three jobs to get by is "uniquely American." Sometimes these things just write themselves.

You Can Trust Me. I'm The President

Here in the Marbled Halls, we are gaining a new found respect for our Commander in Chief. The inauguration speech featured a WWF style smack down between the words "freedom" and "liberty" as brought to unsuspecting third world countries by our determined and resolute military. (For those of you interested, "freedom" won on points. Expect a rematch)

Then the evening was a veritable orgy of praise for our men and women in uniform. A ball was even named for them, although as far as we know, no passes were issued in Baghdad for anyone to come. And now that we think of it, perhaps orgy isn't the right word to use when describing this particular set of partygoers. Well, there's always these guys.

But back to the point. The Cheerleader in Chief has made a cottage industry out of praising the manly men (and, umm...we guess womenly women) who are out traipsing through other people's countries blowing things up in the name of "freedom" and his faithful sidekick (and comic relief) "liberty."

So why does that bring the First Teetotaler into the Circle of the Admired here in IM Central? Simply this: as President Virtue flings himself about the country laying it on for the folks with sons and daughters, husband and wives slogging through the sand, back home in Washington, his minions are busily at work, hacking away at Veteran's benefits.

See, this is the philosophy that got us through high school: Say what people want to hear; do what you want; try not to get caught. But the Righteous One goes even one step further. When he does get caught he just refuses to admit it and goes on as if nothing had changed. If only we'd thought of that for those pesky algebra homework assignments, we'd have had to spend a lot less time in detention.

You'll Thank Me For This When You're CEO

We're beginning to think the No Child Left Behind Act should be changed to No Child's Behind Left. The General brings you up to date on the, shall we say, rash, of child beating tips and techniques that have been lovingly put forth by the good Christian parents advisory group.

Now, we're not theologians here in the Marbled Halls, but we don't recall Jesus coming upside anyone's head, or threatening them "with the buckle end" of the belt as our own dearly beloved daddy used to do. Nor do we recall thinking that said daddy was a particularly Christian man after he meted out some of what is politely called corporal punishment. We do recall thinking one time that if that was the corporal, we didn't want to see the Captain.

The point is however, that it seems these church going, God fearing, Bible quoting, tithing Christians know one thing: Beatings don't make children better. Beatings make them sneakier.

And that is why this whole Mutiny on the Bounty theory of child raising is masterful thinking on the part of Christian parents. They know that the threat of a session with "old Brownie" or The Rod or the "Chastisement Instrument" helps young Christian boys (apparently they're the only one's who need beating. Of course the girls don't get out much anyway without a chaperone. It's the sex thing you know) Anyway, the threat of a beating helps young Christian boys develop predictive skills, planning strategies and probability awareness. In other words, they figure out how to get away with it. Brilliant!

Once these young men learn to avoid the lash through guile and deceit, they are ready for the corporate world. Those who don't learn and are continually caught and beaten become Pastors. Take that Dr. Spock!

Friday Hound Blogging

What a week it's been here in the marbled halls of IM Central. Elections, State of the Union, SpongeBob marathon (we're thinking about redoing the living room in a South Pacific theme, and it's definitely time to visit the Gap Store)
Regardless of historical import, or sartorial crises though, it's now time for Friday Hound Blogging. Regular readers will know this is the day we introduce you to a rescued racing greyhound. If you don't know about the plight of racing greyhounds go here.

These are dogs who must forgo toys and soft beds and frequent petting in order to make money for their overlords. People like this. And when the dogs are no longer profit centers, well let's just say the social security program for old racers went bust years ago. So if you'd like to step in, meet Capreccico:

Capreccio is highly intelligent & adaptable. Her first night in a home, she took herself up the stairs, without having seen anyone do it first! She is extremely muscular and athletic, and so she loves to romp around the yard. When she has to go outside, she has mixed feelings, because it's "Need to potty" plus "Fun to run around" versus "Jack Frost", so when she comes back in, she runs into her crate and really gives it to her furry squeaky toys, chomping and squeaking until she feels warmed up and better. The foster family has large, very fluffy dog pillows everywhere but Capreccio likes to rake at the hard area rugs, to wrinkle them up, then lays on that mess. She is not sure about the snow; she feels it hurts her Florida Feet, and puts her toes in her mouth. But she will also run away from the back door to run a bit more in the snow, then stand and stare at it, then come back to the door and then wonder if she should try another batch of snow...? She's still having her internal debate, but we know how she feels: fun vs. cold! Cappreccio demonstrates her affection upside down and she likes to rest her head on the bed and stare. For more information about this dog, and other rescued racing greyhounds looking for homes, go here.

Whew! That Was A Close One.

Here at IM Central we take the blogger pledge seriously. We keep our keyboard free of Cheetos crumbs, always wear fresh pajamas, and never, ever, under any circumstances attempt to do--and pardon our language here--journalism. The very mention of the word sends a deep winter chill through our bones.

We share that little tidbit so that you can relate to our dilemma. Yesterday, as we were searching through the internet for drinking games to go with the president's State of the Union speech (and where better to look than the blogger formally known as Wonkette) we ran across a story about the Republican's reaction to the POTUS' SOTUS.

On first glance, we saw that it was filled with the usual toadification we have come to expect from the press...er...from the members of the president's own party. Iraq is great; Social Security is in the tank; Gays are bad; Oil is good (who needs Elk anyway); Our president is a manly man who could probably whip the Governator in a one on one jello wrestling match. Oh wait, that was Jenna and Ariana Huffington.

Well, this didn't raise many eyebrows in the marbled halls, although the mention of the first gulper did raise our glasses as we have a standing policy of hoisting one every time we hear her name. As refills were going around, one of the late comers to the meeting (and thus less, shall we say, lubricated) noticed that the story about the Republican reaction to the president's speech had been written several hours before the speech itself! The toadies were toadifying before the toadmaster had croaked his first croak.

This was very odd. Someone needs to know about this. But that would come perilously close to--and excuse our language here--reporting. You see our dilemma. One the one had we had discovered a flagrant disregard for openness and honesty, on the other, well there's that whole Cheetos thing.

What to do? What to do? Luckily the less lubricated member of our speech watching delegation came to our rescue by suggesting that the Republicans were phoning in their responses for the same reason we were stocking the bar...so they could engage in the great tradition of political drinking games while the president bloviated and not have to worry about saying something stupid to the press afterward because they were drunk.

Of course. Who says our legislative representatives aren't forward looking? A toast gentlemen...

Can't Touch This....Or, Maybe You Can

So it seems the President's Abstinence Only Sex Education Program has overlooked a fundamental parental truism: You tell kids not to do something and that's the first thing they do.

According to the study director:

"We didn't see any strong indications that these programs were having an impact in the direction desired," said Dr. Buzz Pruitt.

First of all, what's a guy named "Buzz" doing telling anybody to do (or not do) something? Second, is it such a good idea to use a word like "desire" in this context?

The report states the the federal government is set to spend about 130 million dollars to fund abstinence only programs across the country this year. Let's ask the Buzz man if that's a good idea:

"The jury is still out, but most of what we've discovered shows there's no evidence the large amount of money spent is having an effect," he said.

Hmmmm...as the Bard would say, Methinks the jury is not "out." Yea, verily they have passed a verdict and gone home to watch a rerun of Sex in the City.

Ok. Let's be fair here. So the program isn't working as "desired." It's got to be doing some good, don't you think?:

The study showed about 23 percent of ninth-grade girls, typically 13 to 14 years old, had sex before receiving abstinence education. After taking the course, 29 percent of the girls in the same group said they had had sex.

Boys in the tenth grade, about 14 to 15 years old, showed a more marked increase, from 24 percent to 39 percent, after receiving abstinence education.

Right. So the porn stars as guest speakers wasn't such a good idea after all. And Letters To Penthouse as examples of activities to avoid didn't work out really well. We can fix that:

Abstinence-only programs, which have sprouted up in schools across the nation, cannot offer information about birth control and must promote the social and health benefits of abstaining from sex.

Or maybe we can't. Saltpeter anyone?

We Don't Recommend Mountain Climbing In This Neighborhood

We admit to being city folk here in the marbled halls of IM Central, so what we know about farm life could probably fit on the head of a pin and leave the angels room to dance, but this just can't be right.

What must property values be like around there? Oh look Martha, we have a view of the mountains out our back window. And look at the fog around it. Just like the smoky mountains back home. Um...that's not a mountain Harold.

What do the neighbors talk about with this guy? Well Dave, I see your 2,000 ton pile of cow manure is glowing quite brightly today. Yeah, Bob, we haven't had to turn the furnace on all winter.

And pity the poor firemen. Talk about fighting fire with fire. How do you extinguish a fire on a poop pile? By burying it in poop. That has got to be the punch line of some sort of joke.

All in all, we'll take our chances with the occasional dog tootsie roll hidden in the grass at the local park.