Gno Chiled Lepht Beehined

Jodie Foster stars in a new thriller called Flightplan, which according to the trailer is about a woman who can't find her kid on an airplane.

Here's a nugget the major entertainment outlets won't give you: this film was inspired by the time my family drove to Florida and left my sister at an Exxon. The working title of the film was Urinal, but I think they thought Flightplan sounded a little more, I don't know, antiseptic.

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Kinky Friedman, the self-proclaimed Jewish cowboy who is running for governor of Texas in 2006, truly puts the guber in gubernatorial candidate. And if the election were held today, he'd get my vote. Some of my favorite quotes from his website, www.kinkyfriedman.com:


I’m a Jew, I’ll hire good people.

If elected, I would ask Willie Nelson to be the head of the Texas Rangers and Energy Czar and Laura Bush to take charge of the Texas Peace Corps to improve education in the state.

I’d ask my Palestinian hairdresser, Farouk Shami, to be Texas’ ambassador to Israel. We’ve worked together to create Farouk & Friedman olive oil. The oil comes from the Holy land and all of the profits go to benefit Israeli and Palestinian children.

Our icons are being demeaned. Cowboys are no longer heroes for our children, but subject to derision. We are being laughed at instead of respected in the rest of the country. What has happened to our glorious heritage? This is the great state of Texas! We are not wusses, we are Texans. We will beat back the wussification of Texas if we have to do it one wuss at a time!

The professionals gave us the Titanic, amateurs gave us the Ark.

My new mantra is "Go Kinky in 2006!"

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Saw something on a plane the other day that you almost never see: an elderly man with a goatee.

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It was poetic justice that Jason Gore won the 84 Lumber Classic the other day. That was the same number he shot in the final round of the U.S. Open to fall from second place to 49th. At the time, he was a journeyman pro who became the people's choice to win at Pinehurst with a grin as wide as the Open fairways. Since then, he's won three times on the Nationwide Tour - which earned him an instant promotion to the PGA TOUR - and now his first PGA TOUR event.

On Sunday at Pinehurst, the darkhorse spit the bit. Last week at the 84 Lumber, Gore brought the wood.

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It's a toss-up as to which has had a more deleterious effect on church growth: the people inside the church or the signs out front.

I've seen the following "marquees de sade" near our house in the last week:

Fight like a real man...
Down on your knee's in prayer

On your knee's? Your knee's what? Your knee's cap?

At least that church got its message out in a timely manner, thus parrying the thrust of this purl uv wizdum from another congregation:

Procrastion is the thief of time

Come again? A better question might be, "What thief stole the rest of the letters needed to spell procrastination?" They left out "t-i-n-a." Where's tina? Poor girl. Maybe she's with Jodie Foster's kid. Or maybe they know they misspelled the word and just haven't gotten around to correcting it.

Where were these people trained? Quayle Theological Simminairy?

And after 2,000 years are signs really the best we can do as the people of God? It seems a lot like Seinfeld's observation that men, as a species, have found nothing more creative over the last several millenia than whistling at women, vis-a-vis va-va-voom, if you know what I mean.

If you must resort to signage as a tool for evangelism, how about something like,

Can we have a mulligan?

or

For the record, we neither advocate Pat Robertson nor the assassination of the President of Venezuela.

Even Outback's catchphrase would work,

No rules. Just right.

And then maybe serve up free steak and a Bloomin' Onion as a peace offering. Just promise me you'll mix in a quick spellcheck and some decent punctuation. Call me crazy, but I don't think poor grammar and butchering the king's English are what Paul had in mind when he suggested we be fools for Christ.

Just Wince, Baby

Heading into the home stretch of the NFL season, my beloved Oakland Raiders have positioned themselves for an exciting playoff run. With just 15 games to go, the Silver and Black have moved to within a half game of first place in the AFC West.

They lost a tough one Thursday night to the two-time defending Super Bowl champion Patriots, 30-20. On the bright side, Randy Moss didn't smoke a single joint or fake moon anyone in the crowd. He's obviously matured a lot since two weeks ago when he said he was still, as the youngsters like to say, "burning lettuce."

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Every time I'm in an airport, I'm reminded of how relatively few people in the world I really know. Today at DFW, for instance, the only people who looked even vaguely familiar were a guy wearing a fluorescent, lime green suit (just his face, I don't know any suits like that) and possibly either Siegfried or Roy. I can never keep those two straight. The one I think I saw is the effeminate one.

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Again proving how much pull I have among golf's movers and shakers, Nancy Lopez heard my call to select teenage sensations Michelle Wie and Morgan Pressel as her captain's picks for the United States Solheim Cup team against Europe...and instead chose Beth Daniel and Wendy Ward. Both of those ladies are friends of mine and great players, but neither unfortunately will make anyone want to watch that wasn't already planning to. Which begs the question, if Europe falls on the golf course Sunday and no one sees it, will it make a sound? And this, if the two pregnant players in the competition - Laura Diaz for the U.S. and Iben Tinning for Europe - play each other, is it singles or doubles?

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Like most of us, I'm always looking for ways to have fun at the expense of others. My latest diversion is actually just that. When a really attractive woman walks by, rather than going all Jimmy Carter on her, I instead focus on how other men in the room respond. Their reactions are as varied as the men, themselves...actually, there's not much variety there. Most guys are pervs.

Nonetheless, some have no shame and blatantly go "full ogle." Others attempt to be a bit more surreptitious and sneak their peeks. (These are usually your otherwise more upstanding citizens.) For me, it's the best of both worlds: not only do I stay clean, I get to see how stupid I used to look.

So, fellas, next time Lady Lust comes calling, keep your eyes on the guys. You might just spot a celebrity like Siegfried...or is it Roy?

Domino Effect

I keep waking up hoping to discover everything I've seen on TV the last seven days was a dream, like the ones where I'm in a musical and don't know any of the songs (as if that would be the only obstacle to my being in a musical) or where I'm sitting in a radio control room ready to read a sportscast, only to realize I have no copy so I make it up. (Many who used to listen me in real life had the suspicion I was doing just that.)

And I must admit some of what I've witnessed is no less weird than the stuff of my dreams. Fats Domino alights at the home of LSU quarterback JaMarcus Russell? What?! The Fats Domino? He hasn't been dead for like 30 years? How have I not known he's been alive all this time? And how does he not have his own reality show? This sounds exactly like one of my sportscasting nightmares...

"With the latest sports, I'm Grant Boone. The LSU Tigers moved their game to Blueberry Hill today where quarterback JaMarcus Russell - usually called on to pass - found his thrill when he caught pop music legend Fats Domino...

...also I'm not wearing pants."

That surreal moment was topped only by Fox News reporter Molly Henneberg's interview Sunday night with Baton Rouge Mayor Kip Holden.

Henneberg: "I understand you have a VIP coming here to Baton Rouge tomorrow!"

Holden: "Yes, John Travolta will be here to help with some of the relief efforts..."

Henneberg, interrupting: "No, I meant the big visitor..."

Holden, realizing his mistake: "Oh, I'm sorry, Oprah's coming to do a show..."

Almost defeated, Henneberg: "Isn't the President coming tomorrow?"

Holden: "You're right, yes, Mr. Bush will be here..."

Hey, who's W compared to Vinnie Barbarino?

Here's hoping those left in the wake of Katrina and the Waves have sweet dreams tonight.

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You've heard it a million times, but the old cliche is worth repeating: "Never relieve yourself in a friend's backyard unless you're sure he still lives there."

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I don't know about you, but there is enough stress in my life without my electronic gas pump admonishing me to "Remove Card Quickly." Is it really that desperate?

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I congratulate the creator of the automated hand dryer, but give me paper towels any ol' day. Except for the revolving cloth diaper gizmo. I just threw up in my mouth thinking about it.

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I know what you're asking yourself, and the answer is yes: I do get a little teary whenever I hear "House at Pooh Corner" by Loggins & Messina.

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Saw where the turf at Fenway Park was torn up by a recent Rolling Stones concert. Shouldn't we expect large quantities of grass to be consumed at such events?

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Finally, I think some people take too seriously the metaphor of the church as a body. I met a guy Sunday whose behavior bore an unmistakable resemblance to a certain gluteal part of the anatomy. Ain't that a shame?