I was able to catch a bit of The Late Show with David Letterman last night, when David Letterman was still talking about John McCain’s sudden decision to bow out of a scheduled appearance the night before.  McCain canceled his appearance at the last minute, so he could play superhero and “race” to Washington to save the country from an economy he told Letterman was “about to crater.”

In the clips below — from Wednesday’s show — Letterman, who made it clear that he regards McCain as a real hero for his war service, wasn’t particularly amused:

“So the economy is about to crater.  You’re a senator, a fourth-term senator from Arizona.  You go back to Washington.  You handle what you need to handle.  Don’t suspend your campaign.  You let your campaign go on, shouldered by your vice presidential nominee.  That’s what you do.  You don’t quit.  Or is that really a good thing to do?”

Then there was this about McCain’s absent “second string quarterback:”

“You say, ‘I gotta get back to Washington to save this country.’  Good for you.  ‘And while I’m gone, campaigining in my stead will be my great running mate from the state of Alaska, Sarah Palin.  And she comes out and campaigns.  What happened there?  What’s the problem?  Where is she?  Why isn’t she doing that?”

Here’s a clip of nine minutes’ worth of Letterman’s remarks on McCain’s last-minute decision.  Enjoy.

Towards the end of the clip, Letterman points out that McCain had called him personally to tell him he was “racing back to Washington,” then pointed to a supposedly-live clip of McCain sitting down for an interview with Katie Couric.

Maybe his pit crew had to change a tire during the race to the airport and they just happened to stop right outside CBS News?

On last night’s show, Letterman pointed out that after all of that, McCain didn’t actually leave for Washington until Thursday morning, which would have given him time to make Letterman’s show with no problem.

McDonald’s is advertising the return of the McRib sandwich.  I like the McRib, even though I find it odd that the meat seems to have been pressed into a shape resembling a portion of a rack of ribs much like particle board is pressed into the shape of furniture.

Still, I like the taste of it, and I generally get in the mood for one just about the same time that the Golden Arches decides to bring it back for a “limited time.”

Two days ago, I started seeing commercials advertising it.  Two days ago, I went to my nearest two McDonald’s restaurants in search of it.  Neither one has it.

I’d like to throttle Ronald.

Aside from the fact that John McCain chose as his running mate someone who hasn’t even completed a single term as governor of the country’s least populous state, my biggest laugh at McCain’s decision, hands down, was found at Mrs. Linklater’s Guide to the Universe:

“This reminds me of when the Republicans put a guy who organized horse shows in charge of FEMA.”

Meanwhile, the governor of Alaska is a perfect choice to attract those angry women voters who don’t care anything about issues as long as a woman is somewhere in the mix.

But it sort of shoots McCain’s criticism of Obama as “inexperienced” right in the butt.  Wonder what he’ll find to complain about next?

Each year, Beloit College releases its “Mindset List,” which applies common pop culture to rising college freshmen to give those of who are older a better perspective of the world view these students might have from what they have experienced (and haven’t experienced) in their short lifetime.

Here are my top ten shockers from the big list created for the College Class of 2012:

1. Gas stations have never fixed flats, but most serve cappuccino.
2. Films have never been X rated, only NC-17.
3. IBM has never made typewriters.
4. McDonald’s and Burger King have always used vegetable oil for cooking french fries.
5. The Tonight Show has always been hosted by Jay Leno and started at 11:35 EST.
6. Personal privacy has always been threatened.
7. Caller ID has always been available on phones.
8. Iced tea has always come in cans and bottles.
9. 98.6 F or otherwise has always been confirmed in the ear.
10. Radio stations have never been required to present both sides of public issues.

Enlightening.  And frightening.

Here’s their full list of 60 items, with my own added disclaimer that reading it will likely make you feel very, very old.

Someone pass the Geritol.

This is a true story. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

A few years ago, at the television station I was working for at the time, I found myself in a marketing planning meeting designed to look for more ways, and specifically unconventional ways to get out name and logo out in the public more than we had done on our own.

We were also looking for ways to do it for free. No one came right out and said that, of course, but in the television business, when everything costs far more than it should, free is a good thing.

So we went around the table looking for ideas about where we could get advertising space to make sure people were aware that our little station existed. Our marketing consultant, a character I’ll call Louie, who appeared to have stepped right out of a Godfather movie, was listening to the ideas and making notes about ones that he liked. The ones he did like, incidentally, happened to be the ones my boss and I did not.

In any case, we found that we had come up with a handful of decent ideas that might be worth researching. Then he stepped up to the plate with his own little gym.

“You know those signs on the highway that advertise gasoline?” he said, in a scratchy, Don Corleone voice.

You’ve probably seen exactly the kind of signs he was talking about. They are posted near exits on the interstate highways, and advertise the gas stations that can be found at the upcoming exit. There are also similar signs that advertise campgrounds, hotels and restaurants. I’m not sure whether every state has them, but I assume that they do. In any case, most of the signs have three or four slots available for companies — like gas stations or restaurants — to have their logo displayed with an arrow and approximate distance.

“What if we could get our logo on one of those?” he said.

I was shocked. Not shocked in a “Wow, that’s a fantastic idea! I can’t believe no one ever thought of that before!” kind of way. I was shocked in a “are you absolutely out of your mind?!?” way.

“We can’t get our logo on one of those signs,” I said.

“How do you know?” Louie answered.

“Because we’re not a gas station.”

Apparently, the others around the table had the same reaction, because everyone had this blank look on their face. With the exception of a single colleague who was clearly too determined to be right at all costs.

She chimed in with this: “Well how can you be sure if you don’t ask.”

Maybe I had too much coffee that afternoon before the meeting. Or maybe I had just had enough foolishness that day.

“Because if there was some way that any company could get its logo on any interstate sign it wanted just for asking, do you really believe that we’d be the first ones to realize that?”

The room went silent. But the general manager apparently saw my point, because he didn’t argue. Nonetheless, Louie and his #1 fan insisted — insisted, mind you — that I call the state’s highway department and found out how we could get our television station’s logo on those signs.

So I called. I got one of the most Southern-sounding women I had heard in a long time, complete with a drawl that stretched out a mile long.

I explained to her that I wanted information about getting my company’s logo on one of those little signs. She informed me that it was a simple process: all I had to do was fill out an application for whichever sign was applicable and send the logo.

“Okay. But what if the company doesn’t offer one of those four services?”

There was dead silence. This woman would have been right at home at that initial meeting.

“Well, sir, if you’re not that kind of company, you can’t be on those signs.”

Shocking, I know.

“Okay,” I said, anticipating Louie’s follow-up question at the following week’s meeting, “Is there any other kind of sign along the roadway where I could advertise my business?”

Another pause. Then, as dryly as any comedienne could have possibly delivered the line, she said, “A billboard.”

Touché.

Sure enough, at the next marketing meeting, we went down the agenda and came to the now infamous highway sign question. I told them I had called and was told exactly what I said I would be told. I then threw in the additional note about the billboards, and somehow managed to stifle laughter.

Then Louie’s #1 fan, the one who had jumped to his immediate defense after he suggested such a silly idea, leaned across the table towards me and whispered worriedly, “You didn’t tell them where you worked, did you?”

“Of course. I told them I was calling on your behalf.”

I hadn’t, but after putting me through that embarrassment, I didn’t mind letting her sweat it out for a little while.

This should have been the end of this little incident, an exercise in futility. But it wasn’t. Good old Louie had one more surprise up his sleeve. He stood up — actually stood up — and applauded me. I got a standing ovation from him, and he thanked me for having followed through to make sure every avenue had been explored.

“Even when the avenue in question is an obvious route to nowhere,” he did not add.

Some people say a bad idea is better than no idea. Trust me: it isn’t.

This morning, before the Arch-a-thon began, I drove out to Archie and Bekah’s home to help them pack up after a garage sale. I got there as some of the last customers were picking through their belongings to see if there was anything they wanted to turn into their stuff.

It was one of those reality-check moments, seeing people walking away with things my friends have owned. Seeing my friends sell off a lot of their belongings, downsizing to move cross country and into a smaller space. It was one of those little not-so-subtle reminders that time, faster and faster, grows short.

If I was in their situation, I could have a garage sale to end all garage sales. When I moved to Charleston from Richmond, not only did I have to rent a U-haul two sizes larger than the “recommended” size for my apartment, but I then had to rent an additional trailer to hook onto the back of that truck.

In October, I will have been in Charleston for two years. And there are still things I have boxed up that I’ve never opened since the move. Conventional wisdom tells me that whatever is in those boxes are things I truly don’t need, and that I should trash them without even looking at them.

Yeah. Right.

The fact is that I am the son of packrats.  (And here you thought I was hatched!)

My mom and my dad both have a hard time throwing things away. Their parents had the same problem. Their parents’ parents were long gone by the time I was born, so I have no idea how far back this delightful family tradition goes.

I am proud to say that I have given items to Goodwill. I have donated old clothes that I no longer wear and which would otherwise just take up space in my closet. I am also proud to say that I have thrown away lots and lots of stuff.

And I still have more stuff than any one person needs.

One of these days, I will do a better job of getting rid of my extra stuff. One of these days, I’ll find places for all of the stuff I already have.

One of these days, I may even realize that I don’t need any more stuff.

But before all of that, I think I’ll try to find just the right spot for the new stuff I bought today that used to belong to Archie and Bekah.

When it comes to writing, I hate rough drafts. I’d like to toil over the writing, and make it as good as I can the first time, even if my way takes five times longer than just getting your ideas down, setting it aside for a little while, then going back and redoing it. A lot of the time when I do go back, even a piece that I felt was “finished” really isn’t. But that still doesn’t change my preference to get it right the first time…or at least, as right as I can be.

When it comes to blogging, drafts can be a bit dangerous. I’ll admit that for about five or six of the posts in this Arch-a-thon, I raided the drafts section of my blog where there are some unfinished posts I’d started then just didn’t finish for whatever reason. A few of the drafts I had on standby dated back more than a year, and a good many of them were just simple links to posts or news items I meant to write about. Some day. But any piece that far back is likely no longer relevant, so I decided to just toss them.

In cleaning out the old “drafts” section, I found a piece titled, “Taking Two.” Here’s what it said:

“This little piece has no elaborate set-up and requires no real explanation, other than to say that this is a little piece of wisdom that I learned a long time ago and have been reminded of nearly constantly ever since.”

That’s it. That’s all I wrote.

No hint of what that piece of wisdom might possibly be. No clue.

I’ve got nothing.

One of these days, I might just remember whatever piece of wisdom I was going to write about: I certainly made it sound like it was one that I think of often enough that it shouldn’t be hard to pick out. Until then, your guess is as good as mine.

The other day, I stopped by a specialty shop to purchase a gift for some friends. While I was browsing, I overheard a woman ordering some kind of engraving for a couple getting married tonight.

The engraving was going to be something along the lines of:

John and Marcia

United in Love 08/08/08 at 8:00pm.

John and Marcia weren’t the real names, but I was so distracted by the eights that I didn’t really pay attention to their identities.

Another salesman chimed in that it’s a shame that they didn’t wait to get married until 8:08pm. The customer then said that the wedding was going to be exactly eight minutes long. This prompted them to suggest that the engraving should then say “United in Love 08/08/08 at 8:08pm,” since they’re aren’t officially united until the end of the ceremony.

I started to walk up and mention that I graduated high school in the Class of ‘88, but I’d had enough.

John and Marcia — or whoever you are — may you have 88 years of happiness together.

I had to share this one…I went into a Christian book store this afternoon just browsing around for a few minutes.  I found a book I wanted to read, and when I got to the cash register, the clerk asked if I had one of their membership cards.  I told him that I thought I did and I started looking through my wallet.

I couldn’t find the card, and I told him I thought I’d had one, but must not.

“It’s okay. I got it.”

I thought he meant that he just used a generic one like grocery stores do when you leave your smart shopper card at home.  But I glanced at the cash register display and there was my name.

“Wait a minute,” I said.  “How did my name get on there?”  I hadn’t told him my name, nor had I handed over my debit card, which was still in my hand and at an angle where he couldn’t possibly read it.  It did occur to me that I was in a Christian book store, and maybe, just maybe, God just told him what my name was.  But it struck me as a little on the boring side as “miracles” would go.

He then pointed at my jeans and said, “I just entered your name off that.”

I looked down and realized that I was wearing my Channel 37 ID badge.  I wear it so often, I forget I even have it on.

But for a few seconds there, I thought I was in the Twilight Zone.

…or something similar, but I love this spot.  I just wish I’d had anything at all to do with it!

Apparently, this promo actually did “air,” but only on the station’s website, not over the airwaves.  I don’t think the viewing public would have reacted too well to its broadcast on TV.

By coincidence, after I posted the piece about the error-filled email this morning, my dad forwarded me a different email “alert.” This one begins with the typical, “sorry to do this but this time it’s really justified” line, then moves right on to the alert.

Considering the gravity of what it said, I figured that I should share it at once, lest such a terrible thing happen to you:

If someone comes to your front door saying they are checking for ticks due to the warm weather, and asks you to take your clothes off and dance around with your arms up,

DO NOT DO IT!! THIS IS A SCAM!!

They only want to see you naked.

I wish I’d gotten this yesterday - I feel so stupid.

Yeah, my dad has a twisted sense of humor.

Women will likely read this post and roll their eyes at a “guy thing.” But guys will understand.

At church yesterday, I walked into the men’s room where they have three urinals. One was in use.

The center urinal.

As most men already know, this is a faux pas. Because when you have three urinals and you take the middle one, it forces the next guy who comes in to stand right next to you. And for guys, such a breach of macho protocol just cannot be tolerated.

Good thing we were in church.

There is actually a webpage with several subpages dedicated to instructing the uninformed on how to proceed when they are the first to arrive on the scene of a wall of urinals. (Why not…there are webpages for virtually everything else!)

When you have three, you take either #1 or #3. When the second person walks in, he then takes whichever of #1 or #3 that you didn’t take. That leaves an empty urinal between you, and no macho feathers are ruffled.

When a third person walks in, most people would assume that only then can that person legitimately take #2. Frankly, if I were the third person, I’d take #2 and not worry about it. But the rules specify the following strategy instead:

“Further complications arise if two of the urinals are occupied. If they are the two end urinals, then one should proceed with delay tactics…especially nose scratching and armpit sniffing. Alternatively, a stall may be employed…. It is possible that two adjacent urinals of the three be occupied. In this case, it is best just to leave. Hold your urge, and retreat. To stay is to share in the shame that must accompany any two individuals who are engaged in such an unseemly situation. Furthermore, if you are ever engaged in peeing at an end urinal, and someone enters the middle urinal with the intention of peeing, it is most definitely appropriate to ask him to leave. If he is unreceptive to your request, you might consider peeing on his leg.”

So now, Mr. Middle-Man, you know.

Don’t let it happen again.

The past few days here in Charleston, we’ve had some pretty powerful storms move through.  They’re nothing like what the midwest is dealing with, and the worst of them, so far, has been a spectacular lightning show.

There’s that old phrase about “raining cats and dogs,” and there were a few moments where the rain was pounding down so hard that it might qualify for such a description.  But only for a few moments.

Adam, who recently stopped by to play one of the weekend memes, survived a storm recently powerful enough to make whales fly.  No really:  see for yourself.