1. Nervous Habits?
Hmm. Laughter as a Defense Mechanism? Eating Junk Food.

2. Are you double jointed?
No, even the idea is painful.

3. Can you roll your tongue?
Roll it where? It’s attached.

4. Can you raise one eyebrow?
Just like Mr. Spock

5. Can you blow spit bubbles?
No. Never tried, actually, and haven’t yet been in a predicament where it would seem to help anything.

6. Can you cross your eyes?
Yep.

7. Tattoos?
None.

8. Piercings and where?
If I won’t go through the relatively minor pain of being tattooed, then you can safely assume that I have no intention of being harpooned.

9. Do you make your bed daily?
Does anybody?

— CLOTHES –

10. Which shoe goes on first?
Wow. It’s such a simple question. I could do a whole bit on the little things we take for granted. I think I put on my right shoe first, but I’ve never honestly paid attention. If I tried to do it now, because I know I’m watching myself, it’d be different. Hmm…

11. Speaking of shoes, have you ever thrown one at anyone?
No. I’d only have to hobble over to get it back again.

12. On the average, how much money do you carry in your wallet?
I haven’t had even a dollar in my wallet in months. I pretty much rely on the Debit Card.

13. What jewelry do you wear 24/7?
A necklace is the only thing I wear all the time. I have other jewelry, but I don’t sleep in it.

14. Favorite piece of clothing?
Don’t know that I have a favorite one, thus the diet.

— FOOD –

15. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?
Cut. It’s quicker.

16. Have you ever eaten Spam?
Yeah, but don’t tell anyone.

17. Favorite ice cream flavor?
Moose tracks.

18. How many cereals in your cabinet?
One. Raisin Bran. By now, it’s too stale to eat.

19. What’s your favorite beverage?
Diet Coke

20. What’s your favorite restaurant?
The one you’ve heard of is Outback.

21. Do you cook?
I’m single, so that’s a given.

— GROOMING –

22. How often do you brush your teeth?
Twice a day. Occasionally more.

23. Hair drying method?
Blow dry. I have to. My hair only cooperates when it’s styled into place.

24. Have you ever colored/highlighted your hair?
No.

— MANNERS –

25. Do you swear?
Sometimes. But I do have standards.

26. Do you ever spit?
No. Some of us from the South have better things to do with our time.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE –

27. Animal?
Dog.

28. Food?
Steak. Medium-rare.

29. Month?
November.

30. Day?
Saturday, I guess.

31. Cartoon?
Bugs Bunny. The “golden years” of the Bugs library, that is. My favorite cartoon show growing up was the “Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Show” on CBS in the 70’s. It was 90 minutes long and had all of the classic shorts. No one but Mel Blanc can voice Bugs.

32. Shoe Brand?
I don’t really have one. It depends on the individual shoe.

33. Subject in school?
In high school: English, I think.
In college: TV Production. Go figure.

34. Colors?
Royal blue.

35. Sport?
Football, if I had to pick a sport. I’m not a sports fan.

36. TV show?
Yeah, you know. “The Price is Right.”

37. Thing to do in the spring?
Taking a few pictures.

38. Thing to do in the summer?
Turning up the air conditioning.

39. Thing to do in the fall?
Taking a lot of pictures and enjoying the colors.

40. Thing to do in the winter?
Make hot chocolate.

— IN AND AROUND –

41. The CD player?
A weird mix. It’s impossible to find a pattern.

42. Person you talk most on the phone with?
Family.

43. Ever taken a cab?
Sure, but only on travel. Riding in a cab in Chicago headed for the Navy Pier was an experience.

44. Do you regularly check yourself out in store windows and mirrors?
This reminds me of the time someone in the audience asked Carol Burnett how she kept her figure. Her response: “Because I’m the only one who wants it.” I’ll put that down as a no.

45. What color is your bedroom?
Sort of a nondescript off-white/cream color. Same color blinds on the windows.

46. Do you use an alarm clock?
Three. One traditional one and two dogs ready for their morning walk.

47. Window seat or aisle?
Window. I don’t get up and walk around on a plane.

— LA LA LAND –

48. What’s your sleeping position?
On my side, I think. If I was awake enough to know for sure, I couldn’t answer the question.

50. Do you snore?
Yes.

51. Do you sleepwalk?
Nope.

52. Do you talk in your sleep?
Sometimes.

53. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?
No.

54. How about with the light on?
No. Sometimes, though, with the TV on.

55. Do you fall asleep with the TV or radio on?
Oh, I guess I should have read ahead. Yes. Sometimes.

Don’t forget to leave a link to your journal in the comments. You’re welcome to answer the questions here in a comment or to put the answers in an entry on your journal…but the link you leave here gives everyone who plays a chance to visit your journal! (There’s nothing wrong with a little self-promotion, so leave the link!) Enjoy!

1. Hindsight is always 20/20, of course, but if you could rename your journal like one of those catchy titles you’ve seen since you started yours, what would the new name be? (Assuming, of course, that you don’t already have a catchy title.)

6. You find yourself in an unusual modern art museum. The contents are a mix of kinetic sculpture and interactive pieces. Supposedly, it’s THE thing to do in town, so you feel the need to go. After walking around for a while, soaking in the art, you suddenly feel the need to “go” in a different way. On your way to the restroom, you spot two ultra-life like figures depicting Adam and Eve in the Garden. They’re wearing only fig leaves. No one else is in that part of the room, and there are no cameras. No one will ever know if you peek under any of the fig leaves. So do you peek?

NEXT WEEK: YOUR questions begin coming back to haunt you! If you haven’t already submitted the question you’d like to see asked on a future edition of the “Saturday Six,” just go to Saturday Six: Episode 6 and leave your answers in the comment section for that week’s game.

My answers:
1. I like the phrase, “Maybe it’s just me…” and I think it would apply here, but I think my first choice is a saying I make use of from time to time: “It’s Always Something.” If, by the way, anyone decides to use either one, let me know: I’d like to visit your journal and see whether we agree.

John Scalzi’s Weekend Assignment gets us in the mood for summer vacation:

Weekend Assignment #7: Share the vacation you most want to take — but haven’t taken yet.

One place I’ve wanted to visit that I never have is San Francisco. I was once browsing and I found a personal website that contained a collection of photos from someone’s “Vertigo tour” of San Francisco. Basically, they toured the key locations from Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo,” one of my favorite movies.

One of the critical scenes of the movie took place at Fort Point, just below the Golden Gate bridge. I’d love to see the it in person some day. I’d also like to walk down Lombard Street, called the world’s “most crooked” street. Rumor has it that the hill is so steep, that a series of unwieldy turns and twists were installed into it in the 1920’s to make easier for the primitive breaks on motorcars of the day.

From the top of Lombard Street, I’m told, the view of the city is nothing short of breathtaking.I think there’s something magical about San Francisco. Hitchcock recognized the first time he set foot there. He called it America’s answer to Paris. I hope to one day see it for myself…and I’ll let you know.

How do I feel about people who throw caution to the wind to get absolutely blasted out of their minds? An acquaintance of mine has recently made me consider this question by doing just that. Identifying the person I’m talking about would serve no public good, so I won’t do so. (Those who are aware of the situation already know; those who aren’t probably can’t find the unfolding story, anyway.)

Simplified, the scenario works out like this: Person goes through rough time. Very rough, in fact. Far rougher than what most of us would consider a “really, really bad day.” Person lives in terror for extended period of time, afraid of possibly becoming another person’s punching bag…literally. Person sustains serious injuries, is hesitant to accept medical attention, finally does. Even so, person’s health is still not back to 100% by any stretch. Dealing with a level of fear and stress that I can’t begin to imagine (I admit this), person not only decides to get schnockered, but decides to announce to a relatively small circle of people the intention to drink to excess. Person then adds that comments and arguments are unnecessary because the decision has already been made.

Immediately, three factions begin to form.

Some in the circle play the sympathetic, supportive friend. “It’s okay, you go right ahead,” they say in words other than those. “We all need to get drunk and forget everything every now and then,” some suggest, again in their own unique way. Those who aren’t in this circle wonder if those who are may already be blitzed themselves for their failure to look deeply at the situation.

Some others, ones I consider either better informed and/or more wise, suggest that anyone who might come forward with comments or arguments would do so because they care. They take the position that when person claims not to care about anything and decides to let all defenses down and run the risk of shocking the already-damaged body with alcohol to a point of unconsciousness, while the threat of victimization continues, it can’t be a good idea.

Some others, and I fall into this category, take a step back, afraid to say anything at first, for fear of offending, hurting, or sounding judgmental. Those of us in this third circle are deeply concerned. More than that, we’re pissed off. Big time. We don’t like the fact that person has slammed the door in our face. We’re not mad at person because of this per se, but we don’t like the fact that person would suggest that our opinion doesn’t matter. More than that — much more, in fact — we see this as a very dangerous “escape” that doesn’t really allow person to “escape” anything and runs the risk of allowing person to slip into even more dangerous territory, whether at person’s own hands or at the hands of someone else. We can’t find the words to say all of this at the time because we’re too angry — not at person, who we care about — but more at ourselves, because we can’t come up with the right words to convince person that everything will be okay and sound convincing enough that person will believe us. Those of us in this circle move to the background. We don’t like being there, but we don’t know of another way to help the situation without running the risk of actually pushing person towards the booze. So we sit. We wait. We strike up conversations with each other. Deep, wonderful conversations about life and we make our own friendships a lot stronger in the process. But our primary concern is with person. We hope it will be okay. But we just aren’t sure.

If you haven’t given up on this entry, and my frustrating refusal to use the first gender pronoun, thank you for your patience. I needed to get you from point A to point B so that I could reward you with a few personal reflections.

My first real exposure to alcohol came from an uncle, one I liked a lot. He wasan alcoholic. I didn’t know this, didn’t even suspect it. I sort of knew what an alcoholic was…I grew up watching my share of soap operas, after all. But I had never really seen one in person. To me, an alcoholic fell into the category of a “zebra.” We all know what one looks like, but until we go to the zoo’s African exhibit, we honestly can’t experience what it’s like to see one until we’re staring at one face to face.

My lack of exposure to an alcoholic changed one evening when I was about eight years old. I ended up at my aunt and uncle’s house, not really sure how I got there or why I was sent there, given the circumstances. I walked into the kitchen where they both were. She had a look of concern on her face as if she didn’t know what was about to happen. I don’t think she was in fear of any violence; she seemed more concerned about what I’d see or hear. I saw him, sitting at the table, well beyond the “tipsy” stage. Through a very painful conversation (painful because you couldn’t really call it a conversation and we didn’t know what to say to each other during the embarrassed silent moments), he eventually said through slurred words and a coy smile, “I like your style.” Funny, but it’s one of my most vivid memories from my childhood.

The next morning, true to form, he was depressed. I found him in the backyard, fidgeting with his motorboat, doing nothing that really needed to be done. He apologized for my having seen him the way I had. I told him that I knew he had been “sick.” I didn’t really know, but it seemed the right thing to say at the time. He apologized again. I told him it was alright, and pointed out he’d told me he liked my style. That was huge for an eight-year-old.

But I haven’t forgotten those two awkward situations: being in the presence of someone who had completely lost control, then being in the presence of someone who had regained control and was sorry for having lost it in the first place.

I have never been drunk. (No gasps, please.) I’m a control freak, you see. I don’t try to control other people’s lives, but I like to at least have some semblance of control over my own. I’m no prude, really. I don’t mind alcohol, though I’m not wild about the taste of beer. I like a nice rum and coke. But once I reach the point many refer to as a “buzz,” it’s not fun anymore. It’s uncomfortable. And I have never reached the stage of belief that making myself more uncomfortable will make anything any better.

No need to get defensive, my friends. I don’t think less of those who get drunk…as long as they don’t put others in danger, of course. I don’t like bars, but if I’m with a few friends and alcohol is around, I don’t put blinders on. (I do reserve the right to ask for your car keys. Sorry, but I have to draw the line somewhere, right?)

I just don’t see chemical escapism as an escape of anything. You wake up the next day with the same problems you had the day before. And a hangover is now added to the top of the list. Is it worth it?

Maybe it is. Maybe I’ve completely missed the boat on this one. Maybe I’m the only one who sees it this way.

I never promised to have all of the answers, you know.

The last Monday in May each year is Memorial Day, an occasion designed to remember those who have died in battle.

In an election year during which a war is in progress, I wonder how the more politically-motivated will spend their time on Monday. I wonder whether some of them will wave their flags and photos of fallen soldiers for the purpose of challenging others to get behind these heroes and support the effort. I wonder whether others will show off pictures of coffin-filled cargo jets carrying someone’s loved ones home in an effort to turn people against the leaders who sent the soldiers overseas.

I intend to reflect on the people we’ve lost…those whose names and faces I don’t know, those who I never had the chance to meet, those who had never even heard of me, yet were willing to take on the duty to protect our freedoms.

On Monday, how they got in harm’s way has no importance. It’s not about politics on Monday: it needs to be personal. On Monday, the people are all that matter.

I adopted Zoey from a local animal shelter about nine months ago. It didn’t take her long to make herself at home. She especially likes the bed and the couch, and the softer the pillow, the better.

The staff at the shelter believes that she was abused at some point along the way, but they naturally have no idea what happened to her. She still has her timid moments, but she has come a long way in terms of regaining her confidence. (In fact, she gets so confident sometimes that I have to remind her that it’s my bed, not hers!)

She’s a very loving dog, eager to please, happy to cuddle on the couch or content to sit across the room quietly gnawing on a toy. It’s hard for me to imagine how someone could be cruel to a dog…but like the saying goes, in this world, it takes all kinds.

If you’re thinking of adding a dog to your home — or a cat, for that matter — I would suggest that you consider your local shelters. They have some real gems waiting for a home. And unlike the puppies you’ll find at breeders, the ones from shelters will be a lot more appreciative and they’ll tell you so by their responses: after all, they know the value of the home you’d be giving them because they had to go without.

Each year, the English Department at San Jose State University honors the memory of Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, author of the novel Paul Clifford in 1830, which began with the immortal words, “It was a dark and stormy night…”

When the contest began 22 years ago, it was a small campus affair, and attracted just three entrants who accepted the challenge to submit bad opening sentences to imaginary novels. Today, it attracts entries from all over the world. Here are this years best (or should I say, “worst”)!!

Grand Prize Winner
They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white…Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn’t taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would have you believe it does by coloring it differently.
-Ms. Mariann Simms, Wetumpka, AL

The Runners-up:
Colin grabbed the switchgear and slammed the spritely Vauxhall Vixen into a
lower gear as he screamed through the roundabout heading toward the familiar pink rowhouse in Puking-On-The-World, his mind filled with the image of his comely Olive, dressed in some lacy underthing, waiting on the couch with only a smile and a cucumber sandwich, hoping that his lunch hour would provide sufficient time for both a naughty little romp and a digestive biscuit.
-Randy Groom, Visalia, CA

The flock of geese flew overhead in a “V” formation - not in an old-fashioned-looking Times New Roman kind of a “V”, branched out slightly at the two opposite arms at the top of the “V”, nor in a more modern-looking, straight and crisp, linear Arial sort of “V” (although since they were flying, Arial might have been appropriate), but in a slightly asymmetric, tilting off-to-one-side sort of italicized Courier New-like “V” — and LaFonte knew that he was just the type of man to know the difference.
-John Dotson (U.S. Naval Officer), Arlington, VA

His knowing brown eyes held her gaze for a seeming eternity, his powerful arms clasped her slim body in an irresistible embrace, and from his broad, hairy chest a primal smell of “male” tantalized her nostrils. “Looks like another long night in the ape house,” thought veterinarian Abigail Brown as she gingerly reached for the constipated gorilla’s suppository.
-Paul Jeffery, Oxford, England

It wasn’t the desolate remoteness of the campsite that bothered him, or even the terrifying roar of the rapids beating themselves against solid granite below, so much as the eerie sound of pigs squealing in the distance and the fact that, in this light, cousin Billy looked disturbingly like Ned
Beatty.
-Cindy Erickson Gilman, Mission Viejo, CA

The Prince looked down at the motionless form of Sleeping Beauty, wondering how her supple lips would feel against his own and contemplating whether or not an Altoid was strong enough to stand up against the kind of morning breath only a hundred year’s nap could create.
-Lynne Sella, Susanville, CA

Detective Inspector Mike Norman slipped six fingers into his overcoat pocket, five of them clad in a latex glove and attached to his palm, while the sixth was wrapped in a plastic evidence bag and apparently belonged to the kidnapped pianist Ricardo Moore, or, as it now seemed likely, the kidnapped ex-pianist Ricardo Moore.
-Alan Campbell, Edinburgh, Scotland

She lay next to him that night, regretting sleeping with another while they were broken up, knowing she had done nothing wrong but feeling vaguely unclean, like freshly washed, once-folded laundry that has been shoved off the bed onto the floor and slept on by the dog.
-J. J. McClanahan, Tyrone, GA

Colonel Cleatus Yorbville had been one seriously bored astronaut for the first few months of his diplomatic mission on the third planet of the Frangelicus XIV system, but all that had changed on the day he’d discovered that his tiny, multipedal and infinitely hospitable alien hosts were not only edible but tasted remarkably like that stuff that’s left on the pan after you’ve made cinnamon buns and burned them a little.
-Mark Silcox, Auburn AL

Standing in the concessions car of the Orient Express as it hissed and lurched away from the station, Special Agent Chu could feel enemy eyes watching him from the inky shadows and knew that he was being tested, for although he had never tasted a plug of tobacco in his life, he was impersonating an arms dealer known to be a connoisseur, so he knew that he, the Chosen One, Chow Chu, had no choice but to choose the choicest chew on the choo-choo.
-Loren Haarsma, Grand Rapids, MI

The Insect Keeper General, sitting astride his giant hovering aphid, surveyed the battlefield which reeked with the stench of decay and resonated with the low drone of the tattered and dying mutant swarms as their legs kicked forlornly at the sky before turning to his master and saying, ‘My Lord, your flies are undone.’
-Andrew Vincent, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, England

Just when I thought it was safe and that I had escaped the dreaded “Three Questions” game three more were added to the list!

From Coy:

1. Who would you want to be if not yourself?
That’s a tougher question than it looks. Those who know of my love of game shows would assume my answer would be Bob Barker. To a degree, they’d be right in that I’d love to achieve the success he has achieved and to still be able to do something I genuinely love doing at age 80, an age at which even the most liberal of employers would have shoed most of us out the door years before.
Actually, though, it’s hard to choose someone else to be, because I’d have to trade in my joys and heartbreaks for a whole new set. In other words, what I’ve experienced in life is alright now, because it’s the past. There’s something scary about “inviting” a whole new set of skeletons in the closet.
I don’t know if this really qualifies as an answer to the question, because I can’t really come up with a specific person I’d really want to trade lives with. I just hope that if the decision was made for me, I’d end up inhabiting the body of someone who’d had it pretty good.

2. What is your deepest personal dream waiting to be fulfilled?
Since I whimped out on the first question…I didn’t mean to, really, it was just a tough one with no obvious answer…I’ll give you TWO answers here.
I’d like to win an Emmy. (They have them for lots of things, not just acting.) My best friend won an Emmy for directing a newscast years ago. The statuettes are slightly smaller and with a rectangular base (instead of round) for regional awards, but they’re still that familiar winged figure holding up the globe. I think that would be cool.
Second, I’d like to have a successful novel published. I’m working on one, have the start of a foundation of a plot on a second one, and ideas for a couple of others. If I can ever finish one, we’ll see.

3. What is one thing that is not beautiful or useful that you keep holding on to?
You’re asking a packrat, so it could take a while for me to find one.
Fast forward a few minutes, during which I’ve plundered around.
If my best friend ever reads this, I’ll be in deep trouble, but it’s actually a gag gift he gave me. When we used to work together at the same television station years ago, we marked the arrival of our station’s first live truck (a microwave truck that is able to give a station a live presence on a story as long as the story is happening pretty close to the station’s tower…within 50 miles or so) with a little celebration of sorts. He presented me with a Fisher-Price helicopter made for a toddler, to which he had added a few decals with the station’s logo. He told me this would be the next thing I’d have to promote our station as having: our own “chopper.”
He probably thinks I disposed of it years ago, but it’s still on top of my refrigerator, and it still gives me a chuckle every time I see it. (So does this mean it isn’t useful?)

Bill Cosby raised a few eyebrows with his social commentary at a Constitution Hall celebration of the Brown vs. Board of Education decision’s anniversary. Abandoning political correctness — for which he should be applauded — Cosby complained that some parents would rather spend $500 on sneakers for their children instead of spending $200 on “Hooked on Phonics.”

“They’re standing on the corner and they can’t speak English,” he said. “I can’t even talk the way these people talk: ‘Why you ain’t.’ ‘Where you is.’ … And I blamed the kid until I heard the mother talk. And then I heard the father talk. … Everybody knows it’s important to speak English except these knuckleheads. … You can’t be a doctor with that kind of crap coming out of your mouth!”

After Cosby’s speech, NAACP legal defense fund head Theodore Shaw told the crowd that most of the people on welfare are not African-American and that many of the problems the NAACP has addressed for its constituents were not self-inflicted.

Call me crazy, but I think he missed Bill’s point.

“The Price is Right” collected several statuettes at the Daytime Emmy Awards Friday night.

Host Bob Barker won his 13th Emmy for Outstanding Game Show Host.

The show itself won for Outstanding Game/Audience Participation Show; that Emmy was accepted in New York by Roger Dobkowitz, producer of the show and one of the nicest people you’d ever meet. Bart Eskander won an Emmy for Outstanding Technical Direction.

Many people would likely say, “It’s just a game show…” and it is. But I have to admire any show in this day and age that can claim longevity and such a high standard of quality. (For the record, it premiered on September 4, 1972 and has been going strong ever since.)

To Bob, Roger, Kathy, Bart and the crew: Congratulations!

You’re welcome to leave your answers in a comment here, or to play at your own journal. But if you answer at your own journal, please be sure to leave a comment here with a link to your journal so we can see your answers! Enjoy!

1. What is the last board game you played?

My answers:
1. Trivial Pursuit
2. No, but came in a close second. That blasted sports category!!
3. Burgundy 1973 Oldsmobile Cutlass S. I still miss that car!
4. Two, but one is turned upside down in the hopes of getting all that’s left out, so hopefully after tomorrow I’ll be down to one.
5. C) Skinnier
6. Well I came up with the other 5…this one’s all about you!

Others have wondered about comments people leave in journals…why some people do leave comments and why others never do. I think all of us who write these things wonder about the answers to these questions.

The thing is, comments, though welcome, aren’t required, so there’s absolutely nothing wrong with visiting 50 journals a day for 365 days a year and never leaving a single one. No one can fault you for that.

There are several websites devoted to monitoring journals from AOL and other sources. These sites are designed for people with quite a few “favorites” on their list, and whenever a new post is detected, they notify the user. I use Bloglines for this task; at the moment, I have about 70 journals on my list. Some are updated daily, some semi-weekly, and a few haven’t been updated in a couple of weeks. (They’re on the verge of being removed from my list.)

But this entry is intended to be a little different. This time, whether you’ve been here before or are visiting for the first time, whether you leave comments all the time or have never left one before, just this once, I’m actually asking you to leave one.

I’m not fishing for complements…I’d just like to see who comes by for a typical post.

Even if you hate this journal and think everything it contains is total garbage, leave a comment anyway. Don’t know what to say? Just type “Hi” and sign your first name. If you have a journal yourself, please leave a link. I’m always looking for new ones to add to my list for regular visits. If you don’t have a journal, that’s fine, too. Just say hi.

So go ahead…leave a comment. Then you can take a “blog walk” through the other journals that people mention in their comments. (If you’re going to leave a comment, you might as well get a little promotion out of it for your own journal, right?)

Buying gasoline today? Some aren’t, and they don’t want you to, either.

Today is the Great Gasoline Boycott of 2004. The premise is simple: “It has been calculated that if everyone in the United States did not purchase a drop of gasoline for one day and all at the same time, the oil companies would choke on their stockpiles.”

I’d sooner buy gasoline than that “calculation.”

The concept has been going around every year since about 1999. It fails to consider that the gasoline business doesn’t rely on a perishable product. If we all stopped buying dairy, the milk would go sour. Gasoline, as far as I know, faces no such problem while it waits in the tanks for something to power. No one buys gasoline every day, anyway. Sooner or later, almost all of us will buy it.

Many people, trying to be clever, decided to buy their gas yesterday. If they did, they beat the latest increase: gasoline jumped up another two cents overnight.

Those who are riding on fumes to wait until tomorrow will pay more for the gas than those who tried to beat the ban. In either case, the gas companies get their money.

The other factor to consider, according to Michigan University economics professor John Edgren, who addressed the issue back in 2001, is the free-rider problem: “People figure, ‘I won’t do it because it will take me time and effort, and everybody else will do it.’ If everybody thinks that way, nothing happens.”

I’m not buying gasoline today, but it’s not because of a boycott. I have three-quarters of a gallon, so I’m in good shape until next week some time. If I was out of gas, I’d buy gas so I could get to work so that I will be more likely to be able to afford paying for whatever amount per gallon it will cost then.

I’m not saying that it’s a hopeless situation, although it probably is. I’m simply suggesting that a single day of behavioral change generally accomplishes nothing. It’s longterm behavioral change that gets results, whether you’re trying to lose weight, trying to quit smoking, or trying to save money.

As one old saying goes, “What a difference a day makes.” The people behind this gas boycott should recall a different one: “The world wasn’t built in a day.”

John Scalzi’s journal round-up lists people who sound off on the gay marriage issue. This is an issue I haven’t written too much about, but after reading a few of the excerpts, I decided it was time to throw in my own two copper coins.

One of the posts by an openly-gay man starts off by stating the obvious to make his point:

“As far as I can tell, the world hasn’t fallen apart. The skies haven’t turned to blood, the seas haven’t parted, and my DSL still works. As far as I know, everyone in my life that is married is still married, and their relationship is the same today as it was yesterday.”

This seems to fly in the face of another post, (see next paragraph for link), which claims that

“Gay marriage is an oxymoron. It is a mockery of marriage by radical homosexuals who wish to destroy one of the last cornerstones of our culture.”

[The journal from which this comment originated carries graphic photos of people jumping from the World Trade Center to escape fire from the 9/11 attacks and asks, “Why has the media hidden these pictures from you?” The entry below this shows graphic stills from the Nick Berg execution video — before and after — the beheading. If you still wish to go there, now that you have been warned, Paul’s journal is here.]

There are a couple of things I don’t get here.

First, I’m a Christian. I believe in God. (Feel no need, please, to dispute this point with me. You have every right not to believe if you wish, but you’ll not shake my beliefs if you argue your point until doomsday. I’ll agree to disagree rather than pressure you to see things my way; there are those of the Christian persuasion who would suggest I’m a “weak” Christian for not living up to my responsibility to minister to others. We each do that in different ways…I can’t give a better answer than that.)

That said, I can’t agree with the more right-wing conservative Christians that gay marriage means the end of our culture. How is marriage between two loving people who will stay together and be faithful to each other, but happen to be of the same gender, more damaging than “traditional” marriage between people who aren’t committed to each other? It’s not like “traditional” marriage is scoring some record high these days when it comes to lowering the divorce rate. It seems to me to fly in the face of logic if one suggests that opening the door to people who are willing to make that public statement of love and commitment — and live up to it — might be what the institution of marriage needs.

When a heterosexual couple divorces, does this weaken the marriage of everyone else? If you believe that, then you must also believe that we are all so interconnected that someone who doubts God weakens your faith…or that someone who commits a crime but who happens to be of the same denomination you are helps to destroy the foundation of your religion.

Of course, gay couples break up, too. I understand that. No one is perfect. But we’re talking about people who want to be able to live in a “marriage” and want it bad enough to fight for their right to do so. During this fight, surely a stressful time in their lives, the relationships with the people they wish to wed stays intact. Doesn’t this say something about gay folk having the same capacity for commitment?

Next, what is marriage? Is it a Biblical institution or a societal one? To answer the question, I’d like to suggest that the rules of heterosexual marriage in America be amended to include the following rules:

1. Marriage consists of one man and one or more women.

2. If a woman cannot be proven to be a virgin at the time of marriage, she shall be stoned. (There would be no such provision for a man.)

3. Women marry the man of their father’s choosing.

4. If a man dies childless, his brother must marry the widow.

5. A rapist must marry his victim - unless she was already his fiancé, in which case he should be put to death if he raped her in the country, but both of them killed if he raped her in town.

I should think that each of the five would go against the sensibilities of even the most conservative Christians in American society. However, these five principles of marriage, plus seven additional ones, are all partof Biblical marriage, and the article that cites them is here.

So the point then becomes that marriage no longer exists as it did in the Bible. It has changed as society has changed. This means that it is not impossible to redefine what constitutes marriage, and that, in fact, our society has required the changing definition. If you don’t agree with that, then you must believe that no married Christian couple who doesn’t follow those rules are living within the law of Biblical marriage.

I don’t understand the belief that homosexuals have as part of their agenda the desire to “destroy our culture.” It strikes me that heterosexuals who believe that homosexuals have taken the time to go through the battle for gay marriage as a means to destroy culture are a little self-absorbed. It almost assumes, does it not, that homosexuals must be born straight, and simply resist their feelings just to stir things up?

Can a heterosexual “turn” gay? To hear most heterosexuals talk, the very idea is inconceivable. Yet many also seem to be convinced that others will when homosexuality is given the social acceptance many are seeking. Are homosexuals making a “choice,” or are they born the way they are? If a heterosexual doesn’t “choose” to be straight simply to conform to society, where is the logic in assuming that a homosexual must have made a choice simply to be different? And if you can’t “turn” a heterosexual “gay,” how can you “turn” a homosexual “straight?”

You see, I don’t know of any gay people who are asking straight people to “become” gay. They’re not asking heterosexuals to change their way of life, or even to approve of the homosexual lifestyle. They simply want to have the right to live their life their way. And as for gay marriage, I don’t see homosexuals as intent on “destroying” the institution of marriage: their desire to have marriage within their community seems to me to be their acknowledgment of the value of the institution itself, beyond the basic legal issue of civil union. If they didn’t see the value of marriage, why would they fight so hard to achieve that right?

And if they see that value and are willing to publicly declare that they’re committing to each other, isn’t it just possible that their relationships deserve that celebration?

I took Jeff’s challenge and posted an invitation for questions. Here are the ones I’ve received.

From Carly:

1. When is your birthday?
I’m all for starting things off with an easy question! November 23, which means I’m a Sagittarius. I share my birthday with President Franklin Peirce, who isn’t remembered for much of anything; and Boris Karloff, who is.

2. What’s your best “pick-up line?”
Honestly, I don’t have one…which is part of the reason I usually don’t have a date. (Not that I’m complaining.) When I meet someone and make small talk, I try to listen to all of the answers and play off of them. It makes conversation more of a challenge that way…so I don’t think it makes sense to have a single line that you use on everyone.

3. What constitutes a perfect day in Patrick Land?
First, sleeping late because I’m not a morning person. Then getting up in my own sweet time, walking to the bathroom scales and finding out that I’ve lost another half pound or more. Then meeting friends for a nice lunch (wherein I regain that half pound or more); then a bit of shopping including a visit to Coffee Beanery; then getting home to write a little more on the novel (and actually making progress with it for a change), getting a call from my best friend in Florida, and wrapping up the night with a nice movie while wedged between the two dogs on the couch.

From Annalisa:

1. Describe your most embarrassing moment.
Gee, it’s hard to come up with one that really stands out, which clearly means that I have too many to pull from. I think one of the earliest ones for me happened at a museum. I was probably seven or eight, and we were ushered into a small auditorium to watch a film on lasers or something like that. Only this wasn’t really a film written for the general public: it was a very technical film that seemed to have been written for science majors. So about ten minutes into it, I dozed off. I woke up just as the film was ending, apparently after being noticed napping during the film. Still half asleep, I blurted out, “I don’t understand it.” Several of the adults around me couldn’t stifle their laughter. It took me a second to figure out what the big joke was, then I was sorry I had.

2. Who were your childhood heroes, live AND fictional.
Going back to my love of game shows, Bob Barker, Gene Rayburn and Bill Cullen were literally heroes because they helped convince me that I wanted to work in television. My grandmother was a hero in a sense because she took care of me during the day while my parents were at work, so I learned a lot from her. For fictional heroes, I guess Captain Kirk and company on “Star Trek” would qualify. I was never much of a comic book fan, so the fictional heroes would probably have been on TV shows. I’d probably include the paramedics on “Emergency!” as fictional heroes, too. That was just a cool show.

3. What kind of woman attracts you and holds your attention.
Hmm…it’s been so long I forgot? But seriously folks…I think the number one thing is that she makes me laugh; I think all of the girls I’ve ever had a crush on were capable of that in a variety of ways. The second thing (a very close second), is the number one thing I look for in my close friends, which is that they are sincere and genuine, and are willing to be show me what’s beneath the surface of their personality.

From Penny:

1. What memory do you treasure most?
I have a lot of good memories, so picking the most treasured is almost impossible. I have a vivid one from a young age that first popped into my head when I read the question, and though it may not be the MOST treasured, I’ll run with it anyway.
I remember my fifth birthday party, the birthday cake with the big “five” on it, my parents, grandmother and a collection of aunts and uncles around me, and a respectable haul of gifts too. What I remember most, and it’s an odd thought process for a five year old, it seems to me, is that while I was in front of the cake, staring at the “5,” which was and is still my favorite number, (don’t ask me why!), I suddenly thought about the fact that I would soon be in kindergarten and that things were rapidly changing. I didn’t view this as bad, necessarily, butI distinctly recall thinking that changes were coming: I guess I looked at it with a bit of fear but a bit of excitement as well. It seems now a little too profound for a five-year-old, but I definitely recall feeling that way.
Yeah, I guess I was a weird kid.

2. If you saw someone commit a crime, what would you do?
If it was a friend of mine, I’d talk to them first about it and try to convince them to do the right thing. The serious nature of the crime would eventually put pressure to step in to find a way to make things right if he refused, but then again I’d hope it wouldn’t come to that because it would have dire consequences for the friendship itself. If it was a stranger, I’d call the police. (I might call one of the anonymous “Crimestoppers”-type hotlines, because besides being a sap at heart, I also have a yellow streak, but I’d definitely notify the authorities.)

3. What is your worst habit?
I have a few really bad habits. My worst one is procrastination. I like to put things off until they become daunting. I’m not this way with everything, but there are some things I put off when I really need to just get them over with.

Then, there’s Jeff, who is definitely a troublemaker. A cool troublemaker I think I’d enjoy hanging out with, but a troublemaker, nonetheless:

1. What’s your first memory?
I have a vivid memory that I described to my mom years ago. Basically, it’s along the lines of a glimpse of images, nothing lengthy or concrete, but it involves me at my grandmother’s house…I’m in a crib in her hall, which was, by her house’s design, a room itself that served as a sort of central chamber that opened to six different rooms. A man with short, light hair (maybe even a crew cut) picks me up and holds me. It pretty much blinks out there.
The interesting part is that after I described this, my mom told me that the first six months of my life, we were living at my grandmother’s house, and that my crib was in the hall. From pictures I have since seen of him taken at around that time, the man I seem to remember had to be her brother, my uncle. So my earliest memory must have been within the first six months. But that one isreally the only one I can claim from that far back.

2. What’s the proudest moment of your life?
I’ve already told a lengthy tale, thanks to John Scalzi’s “Weekend Assignment” about my visit to “The Price is Right” in 1997. I’m a big game show fan and have been from day one. Bob Barker is my “hero” in the entertainment industry, so getting to see the show in person and meet him was a big thrill for me.
What I didn’t mention in that entry was the fact that once the behind-the-scenes segment on the show had been completed (I wrote and edited it myself), I sent a copy to Barker personally. It was a silly thing to do, really, because I didn’t think he’d watch it. But he did, and he sent me a second card that thanked me for the tape. The last line read, “I congratulate you on a job well done.”
That was a good day.

3. What’s your number? (If you are confused by this question, turn it dirty, and you will see why I asked if you were up to this challenge.) I don’t actually expect you to answer that third question. Just enjoying the look on your face.
I’m wish you could see the look on my face! And to think I actually reminded you to ask your three!
Even without the parenthetical, I assumed he wasn’t asking for my telephone number. When I turned this question dirty, the meaning I imagined was quite different than what he actually intended. (Go back to his answers and read the belly button comment and you’ll be able to imagine what I thought he meant.)
After having the real intent explained to me, I tried to think of creative ways to answer the question. Then I recalled the words of a certain wise man: “What the hell!” Two. So there!
Jeff, you owe me a drink.