Things that Robert is thinking about that keep him from accomplishing anything.

 
We Resume Our Regularly Scheduled Programming, Already in Progress
Sorry for the political detour. To make it up to you, there's a new issue of The Slant for your amusement.
posted by RSaunders at 8:23 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
'Roid-Rage-anowski Strikes Again
How has Bill Romanowski evaded the NFL's substance abuse policy for so long? And how exactly did he get off of those charges when he was in Denver? What a douchebag. I hope this kid files charges.
posted by RSaunders at 1:52 PM ⇒ (0) comments

 
God as the Basis of Law?
Perhaps the most laughable thing about the ten commandments controversy (and yes, those are intentionally lowercase for those who've asked or offered to copyedit my site) is the notion that our civil laws are based on them or, more broadly and more irrationally, on god's existence and teachings through the bible.

Did no one take a course on modern political thought (i.e., post-Renaissance philosophy)? If there is one thing that modern political theory tells us--and while obviously influenced by classical Greek political theory, the nation's birth is essentially the fulfillment of modern political theory--it's that laws and societies exist not because god has ordained them, but because civil society is impossible without agreement to govern civil actions. Murder is illegal not because the x-th commandment says, "Thou shalt not kill." Murder is illegal because it impedes peaceful civil life. Outlawing theft makes it possible to accumulate more stuff, more efficiently. For god's sake, the whole essence of the market economy is that buyers and sellers make decisions independently and of their own free will in pursuit of their own utility; and, they accept adaptations to the market when the market fails because it improves social efficiency.^*

Between the rise of the Christian Coalition, Bush's election and the New Crusades in Iraq, this obsession with god in public ceremony, abortion clinic bombings, reductions in aid for Planned Parenthood, banning stem cell research, the drug war, fights over whether to teach evolution in schools (which is even crazy than fights over whether to teach creation in schools), and so many other social issues, I fear that we are entering a new Dark Ages. I've referred to it here as the New Puritanism. James Morone in his new book, Hellfire Nation: The Politics of Sin in American History, refers to it as the New Victorianism. Whatever the case, this does not bode well for society.

The fact that I disagree with those groups on those issues does not mean I support putting abortion coupons in the Sunday paper or passing out pot to pre-schoolers. Nor does it mean that I am insensitive to the behavioral responses that "permissive" policies can lead to (e.g., people getting pregnant to sell their aborted fetuses for research). What it does mean is that I won't further victimize people who become pregnant or become addicted to drugs or throw people in jail for the sake of symbolic reasons and tolerate their inhumane treatment. Our problems are essentially human, and only humans working together can solve them. When people refuse to dialogue, we might as well turn out the lights.

^*: I'm far from the biggest free market, modernist thinker; I still cast my lot with the Greeks. But, it is undeniable that the biggest influence on America's founding fathers was political philosophy, not god, and certainly not Christian fundamentalism.
posted by RSaunders at 7:59 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
New Link
The young Manhattanite is now officially linked to your left and right here. Please visit him.
posted by RSaunders at 5:39 PM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Heart of Dixie
Greetings folks. Back from another weekend in Birmingham where I got to witness two big issues in state politics: the infamous Chief Justice Roy Moore and his ten commandments, and the probable next governor to be recalled, Bob Riley.

Roy Moore seems to enjoy the level of popular support reserved for a man in a houndstooth hat, possibly greater since he doesn't lose the Auburn vote. It was fun to see the local coverage of the issue. We got to hear excerpts from the various prayer vigils, such comments as, "We pray for victory over those people across the street." Real high-powered motivational speakers there.

The pro-commandments folks have taken to labeling anyone who professes support for separation of church and state sodomites. These folks have a real thing for Sodom, don't they? Apparently there is nothing worse one can be in the Bible, though I find that hard to believe. Weren't the Samaritans awful people? I mean, that's what made The Good Samaritan so interesting, that he was good. I think this reveals the reactionary tendency in that group: they sound like kids in grade school who label anything that's different "gay" or refer to anyone different as a "fag." Not that the weird things they do indicate a willingness to sleep with people of the same sex, but it's as if you're so awful and so Wrong that you would consider such things. I'm curious how David Sedaris' appearance in Birmingham in October will be received.

Actually, we know the answer to that. It turns out that Birmingham has a thriving cosmopolitan population, some of whom are gay. It's much more of a "recent immigrants" versus "long-time residents" divide. These outsiders have come for the interesting job opportunities (yes, they do exist) and have come face to face with the American Third World. They're the people who listen to NPR or are too busy working in big city-esque jobs but who enjoy reading as a pastime.

In fact, they are the people who are likely to vote Yes on Tues. Sept. 9 in the vote for tax reform in the state (i.e., raising the tax floor for poor people and raising taxes on upper income folks and businesses), the very plan promoted by the Republican governor against whom most of them fought because he would be a crazy conservative Republican. The same Republican governor who has no support among Republicans in his legislature or in the national party. If it weren't for his expressing support for Justice Moore, he'd probably already face recall.

It's not like he couldn't have seen this coming. In Tennessee, the former Gov. Don Sundquist broke with the party and pushed quite hard to get an income tax in Tennessee to help pay the budget and provide revenue stability since Tennessee's main source of revenue is sales tax (with county rates, the sales tax is as much as 9.35% in some areas, 9.25% in Nashville). And he had a lot going for him: few negative numbers, he had just been re-elected virtually unopposed, and he had reduced the Dem-Rep deficit in the legislature. Unfortunately for him, he could not figure out a way to beat Talk Radio and the state delegates and senators who milked it for what they could.

Riley, on the other hand, won a bitterly divided contest just last year and within a year saw the budget was in such bad shape that he vowed to raise taxes on the wealthy and lower them on the poor. Sheer blasphemy in the Republican South. He certainly tried by catering to the Christian community on old-fashioned virtues like charity and kindness to the poor, but those dogs don't hunt in these parts anymore. In fact, even the groups who stand to benefit financially from the tax relief seem to be opposing the plan. I guess he can count on the fact that they may not be likely to vote. Those cosmopolitan/transplant voters with their "Yes for a Change" yard signs are doing their best (they even have significant radio ads), but it's not a good sign when the other side is so confident of its lead that they don't even have signs in the most populous city in the state. (I counted 3 No signs on I-65 between Birmingham and the TN state line.)

But, whether he wins or loses, Riley will likely be a candidate for the 2004 edition of "Profiles in Courage," if that becomes an annualized series after its most recent update. (Certainly a cash cow for Caroline and the estate if it were issued periodically.) If they don't have a recall procedure in Alabama, you can anticipate that it may be a ballot issue this spring and Alabama can show that it has the capacity to be as progressive as even California. Then we can count on a race between Alabama's favorite progeny, Charles Barkley and Sela Ward. A classic Auburn v. Alabama match-up. Beauty and the Beast. Every cliche imaginable. Pretty bleepin' sad.
posted by RSaunders at 5:38 PM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Review – Owning Mahowny
My fantasy is to quarantine a Borders or Barnes and Noble or Powell’s or some other huge bookstore, remove the coffee bar nonsense, and install a bedroom, kitchen, and full bathroom somewhere on the premises for me to live in. In the meantime, I have spent my adult life acquiring their inventory and the inventory of every thrift store and garage sale, one piece at a time, and placing it in my home.

It’s not just books either. I love magazines, too. I don’t even care so much about the subject matter. I swiped a copy of Nation’s Restaurant News, the leading weekly magazine for restaurant general managers, at a chain restaurant last month, and I am seriously thinking about getting a subscription even though I have never worked in a restaurant in my life.

As anyone with an obsession will tell you, the joy in the obsession comes not from the object of the obsession but the obsessing itself. The obsessively clean get their joy from the ritual of cleaning, not having a clean place. My books and magazines are lightly, if ever, read; but, finding them and having them brings an indescribable joy. Life is about means rather than ends.

Last night I found myself at the movie theatre. I had planned to see “Swimming Pool” to get my decennial French ingenue fix, but the 7:05 show was cancelled for a movie preview. Looking through the list of options, I recognized “Owning Mahowny” from a review in The Onion AV Club. I figure if it has Philip Seymour Hoffman in it, it is worth watching. (In fact, there is a whole essay to write on actors who, simply by their association with a film, signal a movie is worth watching no matter how ridiculous or outré the premise. Hoffman heads that very short list. Even in his one failure—the execrable “Patch Adams”—he was the only redeeming part.)

“Owning Mahowny” is the tale of a rising Toronto bank executive, Dan Mahowny (pronounced like Mahoney), who has a compulsive gambling habit, which he rationalizes as a “financial problem.” He earns a promotion early in the movie, which parallels his graduation from horse racing to weekend jaunts to Atlantic City. He quickly learns that he can tap into the credit lines of his bank customers and, because he’s that nice Canadian boy executive, nobody will question his withdrawals of many hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash to finance his gambling.

Almost no movie about vices has as its hero a successful addict. The drunks and druggies and gamblers throw away their careers and families for the addiction, and our protagonist in this film is no exception.* We see pretty quickly how bad Mahowny’s problem is in his ridiculous sports bets with his Toronto bookie (the always enjoyable character actor Maury Chaykin, who you’ll recognize from many films, including "War Games," in which he shouts the still-funny line, “Mr. Potato Head! Mr. Potato Head!”)—“Give me all the home teams in the American League and all the away teams in the National”—in fact, this is what I picture Pete Rose’s life is like, only with less amphetamines—and how it affects his home life with would-be financée Belinda (Minnie Driver, who has a ball showing off her shiny new Canadian accent and covering up in her dowdy, early-80s couture).

But it all pales in comparison to life in Atlantic City. No amount of attention from the casino manager (a wonderful John Hurt) or his lackeys will deter him from playing the tables every minute the casino is open. Despite his ability to get unlimited quantities of cash, it never occurs to him to spend any of it on fancy cars or clothes. While other high rollers enjoy the casino perks—drinks, meals, shows, hookers—our boy is a purist: he’s in it for the gambling.

It’s not hard to see why Hoffman would choose this role. He’s the lead, but it’s essentially the kind of character role he’s always playing—whether it’s Freddie in “The Talented Mr. Ripley” or the love-sick Scotty in “Boogie Nights” or the concerned nurse in “Magnolia." Some will say it’s the writing of these quirky little characters that make them ripe for scene-stealing, but I will argue that it’s the result of a supremely talented actor applying his skill that transforms them from bit parts to career-makers.

Hoffman’s performance is remarkable for its restraint. As out of control as his gambling is, Hoffman never forgets that this is still a banker with a gambling problem, and he behaves accordingly, with simple economy of gesture, flat affect, and thoughtful action, even when his scam is most in danger of failing.

This movie isn’t for everyone. Judging from the audience, I am one of the few people who will laugh at the most ridiculous proposition bets or groan audibly as the hero pisses away more and more money. (I’m like the boys in the security camera booth in the movie tracking this hoser through the casino.) But, if you like to see great acting in the context of a human train wreck of addiction, this is the summer movie for you.

*: The only examples I can think of off the top of my head are:

• Nicolas Cage’s character in “Leaving Las Vegas,” who at least in the beginning communicates the absolute joy a drunk must feel at the prospect of getting drunk as he goes through the liquor store spending his severance check;
  
• Samuel L. Jackson’s Gator in “Jungle Fever,” who is so fun and likable initially that being a crack head seems like an interesting lifestyle choice; and,
  
• Matt Damon’s character in “Rounders,” who shows that gambling isn’t necessarily an addiction, though it seems to have an obsessional hold on him despite his success.

posted by RSaunders at 10:32 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Dr. DeMille, I’m Ready for My Close Up, Or, How I Spent the Blackout of '03
While the Northeast waited for the power plants to reboot themselves, I spent the past two days preparing for and receiving my first barium enema. Perhaps it could have been worse for those folks.

My problems began two weeks ago tomorrow. A sharp pain to my abdomen.
I finally broke down the following Thursday morning after the pain had spread throughout my gut, making it painful even to get up in the morning. It’s normally painful to get out of bed in the morning, but that’s a different kind of pain altogether, related to having to go to work. This felt more like a team of microbial prisoners shivving me. I was now moving around like those old men on t.v. Slow getting up, a little hunched, feet not lifting too high off the ground for fear of jostling something inside. I figured when it hurts even to roll over in bed, it’s time to see a professional.

I started my journey at the free clinic for Vanderbilt faculty, where I had a rectal exam. I usually don’t do this on a first appointment, but there was something about my doctor. His Swedish good looks. The Canadian accent. His long fingers. Whatever it was, I was soon on my side with him knuckles-deep in my rectum. He praised my smooth prostate and admired the lack of occlusions in my colon, besides his hand.

He said it was probably one of two things: either I’m one of the handful of people who has his organs reversed and it’s appendicitis, something he can only check on x-ray and, well, it’d be a nuisance to schedule that because the clinic doesn’t have the equipment; or, diverticulitis, a slight bulge or vagination—what a cool, descriptive word—that was irritated. It would be annoyingly painful for a while, and then it will stop. I told him, “Well, there’s a reason it became a sketch”—referring to Joe Piscopo’s and Robin Duke’s Doug and Wendy Whiner characters. He laughed. (I knew my instincts were right about him.)

However, this being Thursday at the clinic and tomorrow being Friday, he didn’t want to begin treating me “because I just work here one day a week” and my doctor wouldn’t see me until Monday because he doesn’t see patients on Fridays. So, I settled for my 2:30 appointment Monday.

After a weekend in which my pain subsided on its own and two hours in the doctor’s waiting room filling out paper work, my doctor made his appearance. Ten minutes after awkward small talk, a few presses on my abdomen, and a listen to my breathing, he prescribes a barium enema and when would that be convenient for me?

I figure sooner is probably better than later as this whole episode of pain is likely to be over by the time they finish their investigation. We settle on Friday—a mere 13 days after my first symptoms and 8 days after my initial visit to the Swede. However, because it’s now after 4:30, the staff has left for the day—academic employment ranks with government employment in workload—I will have to come back to pick up my “bowel cleansing system.” (God, I wish I was a copywriter and could come up with cool euphemisms like that.)

For the uninitiated, the “system” is a 24-hour fast. A diet of water, naked soup (a.k.a., broth), water, and laxatives. And water. I’m not sure about my bowels, but my kidneys appreciated the attention.

The box promised activity within ½ to 6 hours of taking them. And after my friend Jason’s horror story—which I must have him write down and allow me to post here—I figured this stuff is fast-acting. I mixed the liquid laxative and drank it while sitting on the toilet, turning my body into a giant funnel and expecting a sort of fecal trans-substantiation, and I thumbed through my double-issue New Yorker.

But with no activity in an hour, I gave up and moved to the living room to watch Scrubs—god, that’s a fun little show—and switch back and forth between “Force Feed TV” on NBC and ABC’s blackout coverage—speaking of which, how hot did Diane Sawyer look with her mussed hair, her glasses, her husband’s oversized dress shirt—I nearly forgave her working for Nixon.

Still no luck. By the time I had suffered through Leno and his interviews with Kevin Costner—I don’t remember him being this much of an ass—and the Queer Eye guys (I refuse to use their officially sanctioned nickname)—by the way, if you want an example of what a network whore Leno is, Thursday and Friday were Exhibits A and B (follow this link for my Leno thoughts)—and I realized that Conan wouldn’t do the whole show in the dark—I really hoped he would just interview the writing staff for an hour—I went to bed.

Things started cooking at about 4:00 a.m., and I hurried to the commode. However, it was pretty anti-climactic. I had lain out a couple magazines to read, my shower radio was set to sports talk, the telephone rested on the edge of the tub. I’m never so ready for a tornado. But after a few rectal gusts I went back to bed. Was this all? I had taken plenty more meaningful and memorable dumps in my life. I guess the fact that I hadn’t eaten solid food in nearly 36 hours had something to do with the lack of content. In fact, I have no idea why I needed to bother. People envy my regularity. There are two things I do well: watch t.v. and move my bowels. Within 30 minutes of eating, I’m “evacuating” (yeah, copywriters).

But now I was worried. The labeling had promised activity within six hours, and here I was nine hours post laxative initiation having such an underwhelming performance and facing a 6:30 suppository laxative administration that promised action within one hour. Great. I’m going to use this stuff, I’ll have no response, and then at 8:15 when I’m driving to the doctor’s office KABLAM! It was also at this time that I read the labeling a bit more closely and noticed that the laxatives had expired a year ago. Great, now I’ve poisoned myself.

But, my good friends at Morning Edition put me back to sleep before my 6:30 duties, which went without incident and roughly on time, though with even fewer fireworks than my previous visitation.

I arrived at the imaging office for the 8:30 appointment and filled out my medical and financial information for the umpteenth time in the past week—seriously, why do doctors and hospitals even have computers when they still do everything on paper and even when they do enter the information on the computer they refuse to use it or cannot access it from any central source (even though it’s all the same “covered entity” for HIPAA purposes so there’s no confidentiality concern)—and they whisked me back to the changing room.

I stripped naked except for my shoes and socks—a shorter, fatter Nuke LaLoosh if you will—and now understand all the hospital gown jokes, though after 12 years of competitive swimming—swimming in competitions that is, not that I was competitive in the races—I don’t have any qualms about exposing my naked ass to the world.

The nurse explained the procedure: I’m going to place the barium tip at your rectum; then I’m going to insert it; it will feel uncomfortable, but not painful; you’ll feel like you have to go, but don’t bear down; you’ll get used to it; I’ll insert a balloon to hold the tubing in place; I’ll feed the barium into your colon, and it will feel cool; the doctor will come in and take your pictures; then, he will pump your colon and stomach full of air to empty the barium; and, then we’ll let you go to the bathroom to empty the rest on your own. I guess they’ve done this before.

They had me lie on the table and immediately turned me away from the “activity” of preparing the tubing. Perhaps an adaptation by the system after too many middle aged men had come to doubt their sexuality upon seeing the length of tubing that was about to violate their nether regions.

However, my mind had wandered to where I was worried about whether my ass was clean for the nurse. I’m about to have a piece of hard plastic attached to a rubber hose plunge into my rectum, and all I can think about is my not so fresh feeling. Which reminded me of a joke by Aristophanes, later modified to considerable effect by Chris Rock, about how no matter how much you wash that sphincter, it still feels unclean.

The hard plastic and an intense urge to shit broke my reverie on the timeless quality of shit jokes. She was right; it was uncomfortable. I will never look at a vacuum cleaner and its retractable electric cord in quite the same way again. But, slowly, as they do in pornographic letters, I accommodated its length.

I first met my radiographer as a disembodied voice, his Orson to my Mork as it were. He had the decency to come around to my field of vision and sort-of-introduce himself—I still don’t know his name, but he had on a white coat so he had to be a doctor. I asked him what he expected to find, since, as I had feared, I no longer had any abdominal pain. He basically ignored the question, saying he will see what there is to see. Fun, a Zen doctor.

The doctor rotated me from horizontal to vertical (feet down) to nearly inverted (head down) snapping pictures all the while. “Don’t breathe. Stay absolutely still. And you can breathe.” Suddenly, I’m in an industrial medical pornography photoshoot. “That looks great! Now roll onto your stomach. O.k. now roll back to me. Perfect. It looks beautiful. Now I want you to rotate on the table. Good. And one more time. Fabulous!”^*

And then it was over. The doctor had snapped his money shot, and I was left with a sticky white residue leaking from my anus. No cuddling. No note by the table. I bet he won’t even call. I did my best to clean up after myself. I put on my clothes and left.

After 36 hours of not eating, I was ready to gnaw my arm off. I rushed to Sonic for a Chicken Club Toaster sandwich combo meal. Two hours later, I would stop at Wendy’s. I had thought in the days before the prep that maybe I would take this opportunity to start fresh with a good, healthy nutritional program. Now my body would get all the nutrients it needed, no longer impeded by the three decades of fast food buildup!

But, no, immediacy took hold. I chugged a lemonade and vegged on the couch for a couple hours as I popped tater tots like a raver pops X. Turns out FOX in Nashville now carries the network’s mid-day show with Jigglin’ Barberie (another Canadian!). I eventually forced myself to go to work—why should today be any different than all the other days I force myself to go to work?—where I got a little stuff done, but mostly sat in a food coma staring at the computer screen.

I will update you on the results, if I ever hear from those folks again.

^*: Except for the word "fabulous," these are actual remarks by the doctor.

Update: As exepected: "I find nothing wrong with you," says the doctor.
posted by RSaunders at 11:51 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Better Late than Never
This CNN article reports on the French heat wave. Seems that the morgues are full, so they've started storing the corpses in air conditioned tents. Check me if I'm wrong, but if you put live people in the air conditioned tents, mightn't that keep them from being dead, thereby alleviating the "full morgue" problem. I'm just asking.
posted by RSaunders at 10:49 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Nerdlinger!
I've been cheating on my blog lately. I've fallen head over heels for my stats counter! It's totally hot! I've been curious who visits and why. Mostly, I've found that search engines make me popular, particularly because I have all those jokes about celebrities who are popular. (Note to self: more celebrity jokes.)

However, I found a few people who actually visited and their referring URL. Here is one of those URLs for your enjoyment: Catholic Nerd. They referred to one of my posts about the Algorithm Method.
posted by RSaunders at 1:11 PM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Junk Mail Freedom
As a follow-up to my post last week about junk mail, I have second-hand confirmation from a practitioner of the postal arts that putting a regular hold/delivery on your mail is perfectly legal and acceptable.

Also, if you want more of the young Manhattanite, you can view his website: www.krucoff.com. I highly recommend you read about his adventures in South America.
posted by RSaunders at 10:16 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Up for Air
Hey gang, just got through celebrating my sixth anniversary with my sweetie. A nice, pleasant, relaxing weekend in Nashville gorging ourselves on restaurants ranging from chains to FoodTV on the culinary continuum.

Here is a link to an interview with a young Manhattanite I know from his pre-Manhattanite days concerning his recent purchase of a pellet gun. Here's another interview on his withdrawal from Friendster. In fact, you should bookmark www.lasagnafarm.com because it often has very funny stuff, and frequently the young Manhattanite is a contributor. Enjoy!
posted by RSaunders at 9:10 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
California Dreamin'
Arnold Schwarzenegger, the thinking man's Jesse Ventura, is running for governor of California in that state's recall election. The Austrian-born actor announced his candidacy during a taping of NBC's The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. If he wins the election, it will be his first elected office since serving as Mr. Universe in 1972.

Everybody with $3500 seems to be getting into the race. Gary (Diff'rent Strokes) Coleman is even applying. I'm not kidding. Somebody in Hollywood has to have started a documentary on this race, right? On the bright side, all the money rolling around should be a boost for television commercial producers. Can we expect Tom Hanks to enter now, too? Or, can only Republican celebrities run for office? Perhaps California will create a ballot initiative detailing which celebrities can participate in the democratic process.

Personally, I am looking forward to the impending revelations about his womanizing. Nothing is hotter than reading about celebrity sexual encounters from second-hand sources involving third-rate celebrities. My newspaper will mirror the transcript of an E! True Hollowood Story.
posted by RSaunders at 8:34 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
Junk Mail No More!
After getting back from my 11-day trip to Maryland, I went to my apartment complex's mailbox to get my accumulated mail. I had put a hold on the mail, so it was all nicely bundled in a rubber band. Most of the usual contents were there. Some bills. Two issues of the New Yorker. Only one of my print copies of the Madison edition of The Onion. (Could I be more conformist?)

One thing was blissfully absent: junk mail. That's right, they deliver nothing that is not addressed specifically to you. No "Resident." No "Dear Postal Patron." Not even an "Our Neighbor at." No coupons. No coupon booklets. No postcards about missing children last seen in 1993 with their father, complete with computer generated forecasts of their current appearance. I no longer know if I can get 2 subs for $4 at Arby's. Or where to get my brakes and alignment done. Or whether the new person I just met is actually a long-missing child.

God dammit, why didn't I think of this sooner?!?!

Given that a national "do not mail" list is unlikely to be forthcoming, you can do the next best thing. Go to your post office and get a stack of those yellow "hold mail" cards. Fill them out for 1 or 2 week increments, marking that they should deliver the mail on the day you return. For best results, pick a day of the week that you don't get junk mail (usually Mondays in my area) so that when they deliver your backlog of mail, you won't accidentally get any junk.

The best part of this is that those yellow cards are free to pick up and free to mail. I'm going to try it for the next couple of weeks and report back to you. If others of you try this, let me know whether you have any success.
posted by RSaunders at 9:30 AM ⇒ (0) comments

 
More Funnies
Here's another article that will probably be untimely come next month. Enjoy.

U.S.S. Reagan Commissioned, Immediately Lost At Sea

NORFOLK, Va--The newly commissioned U.S.S. Reagan aircraft carrier has been reported lost at sea somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Members of the Coast Guard attempted radio contact, but when asked for its position, the ship responded, "Well, I don't recall. It was a long time ago. I'm sorry."

The ship's captain attempted corrective action, but his efforts have proven unsuccessful. In the ship's last communication, Capt. John W. Goodwin lamented, "The damn ship only steers to the right, taking us farther away from America."

Anyone with knowledge of the whereabouts of this ship are asked to contact the United States Department of Defense. Information leading to its recovery may be eligible for a reward.

posted by RSaunders at 12:28 PM ⇒ (0) comments