Shop of Fools

To those of you who got up in the middle of the night to hit the stores for the best after-Thanksgiving-Day deals, I say,

You greedy, materialistic fools!

And also,

Stop shoving! I was here first!

Okay, so I was among the heathen venturing out this morning at 0-dark-30. But I was on assignment for the boone box. Make that Mrs. boone box and the boone box estate.

I pulled up to Best Buy at 4:55 a.m., five minutes prior to the doors opening. It was 40 degrees outside. I can't give you an exact count of how many people were already in line, but I can report that toward the back they had collected precious metals, melted them, and fashioned the bullion into a golden calf. (If you hurry, you can get the calf now for 75% off.)

From inside my truck, I waited the line out a good five minutes before searching for a bit of sanity, namely Starbucks, which had mercifully opened a half-hour early to caffeinate the living dead. From there, it was off to Wal-Mart where the rest of Abilene had surfaced.

Let me pause for a moment to recap the sartorial state of affairs. Most folks hadn't bothered to make themselves especially presentable. In their defense, it's tough to find clothes that match in the dark. There were a few of the female persuasion, however, that clearly had put some effort into their look. Which means they would've had to get up around dinner time the night before to get ready.

I should use this occasion to point out that no article of clothing signifies the give-up more than the visor, which yours truly was jocularly sporting. Wearing no headgear would indicate a lack of interest in what anyone thought of my appearance. The visor was actually flaunting my indifference. My hair - as I discovered from the reflection off a car window en route to join the Israelites - had a disturbing likeness to an electrocuted Chia pet. But somehow, in my pre-dawn cognition, I'd come to believe the visor was propitiation, covering over a multitude of misplaced hair, like a pated panacea. Not only was no one impressed with my effort, one lady actually gave me a quarter and wished me happy holidays.

Having finally gained entry into Best Buy, the salesman struggled to suppress his laughter when I asked if they still had any of the items I was after. They had just sold out...about 2 hours before.

Me: That's 4:30. I thought you weren't open 'til 5.

Sales guy: We weren't. But we handed out tickets to people in line who wanted that item.

Me: Were people here early?

Sales guy: The line began forming at 7 o'clock last night.

It's one of those tender Thanksgiving traditions that hearkens back to the original meal. After sharing their bounty with the Indians, Miles Standish led the pilgrims to the doorstep of Looms N' Things where they waited all night for the New World's first clearance sale.

As I walked out, I looked at the other customers and couldn't help but think again of Harry and Lloyd...

Harry: So you got fired again, eh?

Lloyd: Yeah...

Harry: I lost my job today, too.

Lloyd: Man, you are one pathetic loser.

I was dumb to get up that early. But dumber if I do it again.

The sign outside the church down the street from us reads:

Tell the truth. Then you don't have to worry about what you said.

See, I disagree. For example, if a wife asks her husband,

"Do these jeans make my hips look big?"

and he replies,

"I can't really see your hips because of your massive hiney,"

even if he's telling the truth, I think he'll still have something to worry about.

Desperate 'Haus-Wife

The marriage between Terrell Owens and the Philadelphia Eagles has - as you may have heard - gone the way of Chesney-Zellweger. After several months of petulant behavior and publicly dissing teammates and coaches, most recently saying in an interview that the Eagles would be undefeated if Brett Favre was their quarterback instead of Donovan McNabb, the team - surprise! - finally had enough and suspended their star receiver, telling Owens and the world that he wouldn't play again this season.

Harry: So you got fired today?

Lloyd: Yeah, they always freak out when you leave the scene of an accident, you know?

Tuesday, the NFL's version of Dumb and Dumber - Owens and his agent, Drew Rosenhaus, a man with all the sincerity of a felonious televangelist - appeared at a press conference to express remorse (Owens) and outrage (Rosenhaus) that T.O. now stood for Time Out. Owens "just wants to play football"...now that he can't.

How ironic that this comes the week of a Monday Night Football game between the Eagles and Cowboys. I'm trying to remember what happened the last time these two met on a Monday night, but the FCC has erased it from my memory. Oh, yes! The infamous locker room teat-a-teat with an ostensibly naked Nicolette Sheridan of Desperate Housewives, which ends with Sheridan dropping her sopping wet towel and Owens telling the Eagles they'll have to do without him for that game.

Turns out, the idea of Owens bailing on his team wasn't sketch comedy but merely portents of things to come. In fact, had it been a woman for whom he had betrayed his team, he may have had a few more sympathizers. But T.O. is apparently in love with himself. And this time, his coach, Andy Reid, is the one throwing in the towel.



(Good luck today trying to ctrl + alt + del the mental jpeg of Andy Reid naked...)

Regarding Sodom: Who's Sane?

When I was broadcasting tournaments for The Golf Channel, we used to giggle at the prospect of Brian Gay, Dicky Pride, and Glen Day playing in the same group, thus giving us the Gay-Pride-Day threesome. Something tells me the gag would be lost on Fred Phelps.

He's the pastor of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas, and I use all of the aforementioned terms - he, pastor, and Westboro Baptist Church - loosely. That's the "church" which, under Phelps' direction, has understood the mission of Christ to mean picketing at the funerals of people like Matthew Shepard, the young man from Wyoming who was fatally beaten many years ago primarily because he was gay. Phelps and company used the funeral as an opportunity to inform grieving family members that Shepard was now in hell and that he had an eternity of suffering to look forward to. In fact, you can find a jaunty memorial to Shepard's entry into hell - complete with a running total of how many days he's been there and a sound file of someone pretending to be Shepard screaming in torment - on the church website, the address of which is www.godhatesfags.com.

(Editor's Note: "Fag" is a favorite term of Phelps and his churchfolk, who are quick to note that these reprobates are not living a lifestyle that honors God, as laid forth in Scripture. What's interesting to me is that both "Matthew" and a variation of "Shepard" are found in my Bible. "Fag" is not.)

At that website, you'll also discover that Billy Graham is a modern-day Judas; find out that God is America's terrorist now, using natural disasters and other means to punish the U.S. for its collective sin; and learn of opportunities where you can join the church in picketing at the funerals of fallen U.S. soldiers to inform those families that their loved ones have also begun a slow burn. Mainly, though, the site and apparently Phelps, himself, are dedicated to the notion that homosexuality is the one sin that really gets God's dander up.

Phelps doesn't care what you or anyone else thinks about him. His mission is to "preach the gospel" at whatever cost.

Let me say this to those readers who already had a bad taste in their mouths about religion: please don't lump us in with people such as Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church who twist Scripture into whatever they want it to be and then use it as a weapon. We're not all like them. Some of us are worse.

Inquiring Minds Want To Know

The magazine cover featured two subjects, arm in arm and surrounded by water as the headline screamed,

"What Went Wrong?"

In times of national crisis, it is incumbent on America's journalists to ask the tough questions and discover the truth. Our forefathers died for the freedom of an investigative press. That and a dependable Best and Worst Dressed List.

That's why I salute People Magazine for getting to the bottom of the Kenny Chesney-Renee Zellweger marriage annulment. America thanks you.

Here's another question: did anyone really expect these nuptials to survive Daylight Savings Time? What went wrong? How 'bout Zellweger saying "yes" when Chesney first asked her out?

And did you see the reason given for the divorce? Fraud! Really? You mean these performers might have pretended to be people they really aren't? Didn't see that one coming. Whatever you do, though, please don't tell my wife that fraud is a legitimate cause for divorce. The judge would have his decision made before his robe wrinkled.

As we collectively mourn this national tragedy, we would all do well to remember the words of Patrick Henry, who once said, "Give me Liberty or give me death...or at the very least give me The 50 Most Beautiful People Latin Edition..."

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When Obi met Barbie...

She's learned Bionicles and baseball by following her big brothers; she's learned pink and pretty by following her heart. Here's how Anna Claire resolves the two:

Amy: Anna Claire, what do you think you could be for Halloween?

AC (age 3): A princess!

Amy: What could the boys be?

AC: Um, maybe my bodyguards?

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You may have read where several members of the New York Yankees questioned the Texas Rangers for taking their best players out early so they could get standing ovations from the home fans in the last game of the year against the L.A. Angels, a game the Angels won and, in so doing, clinched home-field advantage against the Yanks in the first round of the playoffs. Had the Rangers won, New York would've had home-field.

Memo to the Yankees: Your payroll is roughly the GDP of Belgium. Try mixing in an extra win here and there rather than asking a bottom feeder to do your dirty work.

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Basic math tells me the difference between 6 and 36 is 30. But conversations like this one between a 6-year-old boy and his 36-year-old dad lead me to believe the distance is much greater.

Nicholas: We talked about things that are green today at school, and I said the Green Bay Packers.

Me (as I made a left turn): What else did you all come up with? A green light?

Nicholas: No.

Me: How about money?

Nicholas: No.

Me: What then?

Nicholas: Grass, leaves, a bush, and a frog.

Isn't jade a shade of green? I like his list better.