Weekly Wilson

Supposedly, what follows was an actual answer to the question on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term exam.  The answer by one student was so profound that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which I now present for your reading pleasure:

“Bonus Question:  Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?”

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant thereof.

One student, however, wrote the following:

“First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time.  So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving Hell.  I think we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave.  Therefore, no souls are leaving Hell.  As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell.  Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.  With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.  Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately, as souls are added.

This gives us 2 possibilities:

1)  If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2)  If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So, which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, “It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,” and take into account the fact that she slept with me last night, then Number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.  The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is, therefore, extinct…leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a Divine Being, which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting, “Oh my God!”

[The student received an A+.]

I copied the column below from the archives of www.blogforiowa.com. It will appear within a new Kindle offering that will go up very soon on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The title of the book is Laughing through Life, and it chronicles funny stories from my first years as a young wife, mother and teacher, on through the following of the presidential candidates in 2004 and 2008 and up to the present. When it appears for sale, I’ll be sure to let you know. For now, enjoy this “sneak preview” of one of the offerings within it. (And if you want to see the original picture of Al Franken and me, check the archives of www.blogforIowa.com.

Keynote Speaker – Al Franken

AND YOU ARE THERE!

Or

”A Mush Mute, a Big Hat and a Plum”

Just a few comments about the October 16th Jefferson/Jackson (2004) annual Democratic dinner at Veterans’ Memorial Auditorium in Des Moines.

1)    The acoustics at Veterans’ Memorial Auditorium suck.

2)    Because the acoustics suck, the large TV screens have captioning. The captioning must be done by a machine. This can lead to much merriment. Especially if you have made it your goal, after at least three hours of waiting, to obtain and consume a minimum of three glasses of white zinfandel prior to Al Franken’s appearance.

3)    “Ed is the Governor of Pencil.” I think the machine MEANT to say that Ed is or was the Governor of Pennsylvania.

4)    The word “Dear” is listed as “Deer.”

5)    The machine cannot make up its mind whether the choir of Gospel Singers is from the Maple or Elm Street Missionary Baptist Church Choir. At this point, the machine is introducing various tree types. Things are very confused.

6)    We are asked to join hands with the person next to us. The person next to me, on my right, is Thomas Fischermann, Economic Correspondent for the German weekly “Die Zeit.” I tell Tom that holding hands in this fashion in America means that we are now legally married. Tom tells me that he knows this isn’t true, as he was raised Catholic. I admit that I lied (which is more than I can say for George W. Bush). Tom turns out to be a delightful seat-mate for the dinner, which we are not eating.

7)    At one point, after the droning of fully two dozen would-be Democratic candidates, none of whom any of us knows, Tom says he might have to go back to his hotel room and watch Al (Franken) on TV. (He doesn’t.) He is disappointed that Sharon Stone isn’t going to appear (aren’t we all?) I ask Tom whether he thinks Vanessa Kerry is wearing nylons. He is too much of a gentleman to comment. Oh, those European men. Especially those who had English teachers from Wisconsin.

8)    After about 2 hours of the droning and bellowing (the sound system is REALLY bad), I say that it is going to be my goal to drink three glasses of white zinfandel before Franken takes the stage. I am actually doubting that Franken will EVER take the stage. This turns out to be a really bad plan. Why? I have taken my college roommate as photographer-in-residence, and, when I put my camera and the wine glasses (small plastic cups at $5 a pop) on the floor, she accidentally kicks a glass of white zinfandel over my camera and it completely soaks it. Thomas rescues the camera from the ever-widening pool of wine. The strap is soaked and the lens is “cloudy.” I do not get one single usable picture from my trusty Canon after the unfortunate wine incident, henceforth known as “Zinfandel-gate.” As I did manage to secure two glasses of zinfandel prior to Zinfandel-gate, I don’t care. Later, I will rue the day. Or night.

9)    To my extreme left is “Jane,” correspondent for “People” magazine. She is covering the candidate’s children for a story. Jane is very nice. She is dressed in black. She would like some food. We do not get any food. We would not get anything to drink, either, if I hadn’t made the infamous “Zinfandel-gate” run. (*Kids: Take note! Do NOT try this at home!)

10)    Other errors on the sub-title machine that amuse me:  “Fill” for a candidate whose first name is “Phil.” “He is a man of grass.” (This may actually be accurate; we don’t know. Perhaps he meant that “W” is an *ss? Or a man of *ss? Very confusing. Don’t know; can’t tell you.)

11)    When someone says, “The future of this country is at stake. The future of the world is at stake,” Thomas leans over and says, “The sky is falling.” I laugh. Perhaps I should write this down? Again, don’t know; can’t tell you.

12)    More machine sub-title errors: for “pirate suit,” (which is connected to Al Franken’s remarks about George W. Bush wearing a ridiculous flight suit with a huge cod-piece on his now-infamous “Mission Accomplished” battleship appearance). The machine spells out: “pie rat.” Perhaps this machine is smarter than anyone realizes.

13)    Other errors that I cannot explain, from the sub-titling machine: “sash and acute” (?) “A mush mute, a big hat and a plum.”

14)    I enjoyed Al Franken’s remark that, after 9/11, the country was very united. “My college roommate even got out an old T-shirt to wear that touted America. Of course, it took him four hours to white-out ‘sucks.’”

15)    What have I learned from this experience? Never trust sub-titling machines. Always trust the German correspondent for “Die Zeit.” He is very knowledgable, very handsome, and we chat at great length about the Diebolt voting machines and the potential for voter fraud in the upcoming election. Please give Thomas a raise; I think he likes Vanessa Kerry, and he will need it to win her heart.

16)    Never try to drink three glasses of white zinfandel while simultaneously shooting film and taking notes. But it’s ok to laugh. A lot.

It was reported in the Chicago Tribune on Thursday, May 26, that a film about Sarah Palin entitled “The Undefeated” is going to be screened first in Iowa. The Hawkeye state already has a reputation for all things corny, as I well know (being a native), so this seems appropriate.

It seems even more apropos should the Palin person decide to announce she is running for President of the United States. After all, if Donald Trump can (and Pat Paulsen before him), why not Sarah Palin? Why else make a movie about a woman who didn’t even finish out her full term a Governor of Alaska and is now reported to be buying real estate in Arizona?

The film is a 2-hour documentary financed by conservative filmmaker Stephen Bannon. With $1 million and Palin’s help and permission, footage has been obtained (and included) of Ms Palin’s time as a member of the Wasilla City Council. (It was not reported if there was film of her resigning her office as Governor mid-way through her term.)

Besides giving me a “heads up” that I must make it a point to catch this no-doubt Oscar-worthy and eminently objective movie, it set off political pundits at the Tribune to the point that an entire article was devoted to possible alternative titles (tongue-in-cheek). They ran in the Sunday, May 29, 2011 Chicago Tribune, and, quite frankly, they are too good to keep under wraps. Some appeared on various blogs, but I have added quite a few original titles of my own:

Possible Alternative Titles for the Film about Sarah Palin’s Illustrious Political Career:

“All About Sarah”

“Dark Victory”

“Forgetting Sarah Palin”

“Mooseferatu”

“To Kill and Field Dress A Mockingbird”

“Children of a Lesser Todd”

“Children of the Corn Meet Children of the Candidate”

“The Devil Wears Mukluks”

“In What Respect, Charlie Brown?”

“I Can See Russia from my Seat Ringside at ‘Dancing with the Stars’”

“Citizen Vain”

“There Will Be Blood Libel”

“Kiss of the Snider Woman”

“Blazing Prattle”

“South from Alaska”

“Desperately Seeking Syntax”

“From Within Sight of Russia, With Love”

“The Todd Also Rises”

“Mama Grizzly, Dearest”

“Birthers of a Nation”

“Must Hate Wolves”

“Motorcycle Mama”

“Driving Miss Dizzy”

“Death Panel Becomes Her”

“Honey! I Exploited the Kids!”

“No Country for Newspaper Reading Sissies”

“Close Encounters of the Third-Rate Kind”

“Nightmare on Elk Street”

“Belfries Are Ringing”

“The Dumb Luck Club”

“I Know That You Quit Last Summer”

“Gone Is the Win”

“Dancing Toward the Dark”

“When Sarah Met Romney”

“The Shawshank Refudiation”

“Fear and Loathing in Des Moines”

Add your own potential title for the new Sarah Palin movie below.

Copyright 2011 by Connie Wilson

This is a stream-of-consciousness article, so bear with me.

I was driving in to Chicago (Tuesday) at about 2:30 p.m. and was approaching the city’s heart on LakeShore Drive, near McCormick Place, where there are 3 or 4 lanes going in to the city and 3 or 4 coming out, separated by a short retaining wall.

My peripheral vision is not that great. I am actually restricted on my driver’s license to driving only vehicles “with side mirrors” because I have flunked the peripheral vision test part on the driver’s license eye exam on more than one occasion. I wonder if it is related to cataracts developing around the edges of my cornea?

Regardless of the reason, I saw, out of the corner of my right eye, smoke. I looked over and saw that a car in the far right lane was smoking. It was driving on the axle. And the tire was bouncing across three lanes of busy traffic heading right towards me. I knew that, in order to keep the tire from making contact with my vehicle, a Toyota Prius, I needed to brake hard RIGHT NOW. I prayed that the guy behind me wouldn’t rear-end me (he didn’t). So, the tire missed me by less than six inches, I’d say, and then hit the retaining wall.

I remember thinking: “Oh, oh.”

Rather than rebounding towards me, the tire bounced literally 8 to 10 feet in teh air after hitting the wall and then sailed OVER the wall and continued to bounce its way through the outgoing lanes of traffic. I would have liked to have watched to see what was going to happen, but the traffic was moving at roughly 60 miles an hour, so no deal there, I hope it didn’t cause any accidents for the outgoing traffic.

It made me think of the tire tread that was thrown up and hit my car’s grill, taking out all of the grill-work and tearing the cardboard thing off the bottom of my car that somehow is used to insulate the motor mechanism from the pavement, I guess. St. Christopher has recently been defrocked, but he must have been watching out for me.

Viggo Mortensen at the 2008 Chicago Film Festival.

In the 1980 film “American Gigolo,” Richard Gere boldly went where no male actor had dared go before: full monty on film. As Julian Kaye, Richard had a scene standing next to a window in a bedroom (with co-star Lauren Hutton) that started a trend that shows no signs of  abating. It was an important moment in cinema: a break-through,  baring one’s all for one’s art.
Here are 10 examples of Full Frontal since Richard let it all hang out (pun intended).  It does not include those that are closer to porno, like the shower scene in 1980’s “Can’t Stop the Music” with Valerie Perrine (The Village People sang “Y.M.C.A.” in that one, which pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the film’s quality) and it doesn’t include the edited sequence(s) in “Fast Times at Ridgewood High” or the really obscure Dutch film “The 4^th Man” (Paul Verhoeven). The list also excludes “All the Right Moves” (1983) with Tom Cruise and Lea Thompson, where the camera lingered lovingly over the near-naked pair and panned downward.

And, since I’ve mentioned Tom Cruise, it doesn’t include FEMALE full frontal nudity, which has been done  to death for years. If it did, I’d be citing “Risky Business” and the scene with Rebecca DeMornay removing her dress to reveal  she had nothing on underneath, because Tom was not the one showing skin on the silver screen that time. There was also the overly long “At Play in the Fields of the Lord,” with Tom Berenger wearing almost nothing and Darryl Hannah literally wearing nothing, but I’ve left it off the list, too, because that  film about missionaries bringing more than just religion to the poor oppressed natives of South and Central America had  Tom wearing almost nothing, but I think there was a loin cloth or some such involved in the scene where he is nearly starkers.

So, who/what are the few, the bold, the Full Monty Minions?

Here are 10 that you can check out at your leisure. In some cases, don’t blink or you’ll miss it/them. Number Ten represents full frontal male nudity, but not from the likes of  Tom Cruise or a Richard Gere (more’s the pity).

1)      Richard Gere, (1980), “American Gigolo” and  “Breathless” (1983)

2)      Harvey Keitel, “The Piano” and “Bad Lieutenant” (Harvey took it off so often that, for a while, people were saying that it wasn’t truly an indie film unless Harvey was nude in it. More’s the pity that the actor enjoying nudity so much wasn’t someone a lot more attractive; you almost had to shout “Put it on! Put it on!” from your seat in the audience.)

3)      Jason Segel, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”

4)      Ewan McGregor: “The Pillow Book,” “Trainspotting,” “Velvet Goldmine,” “Young Adam” (And you thought Harvey Keitel was addicted to shedding his clothes at the drop of a plot point.)

5)      William H. Macy, “The Cooler.”

6)      Bruce Willis, “The Color of Night” (swimming pool scene)

7)      Kevin Bacon, “Wild Things”

8)      Jaye Davidson, “The Crying Game” (Is he a he or a she?)

9)      Viggo Mortensen, “Eastern Promises” (One of the most horrifying fight sequences ever filmed.)

10)  Also, although hardly “star” turns, (which the list above is mainly involved with),

let’s not forget the fat guy in “Borat” (Ken Davitian), the phallic scene in “Boogie Nights” with Mark Wahlberg (no, it wasn’t all real), and the guy offering a beer in “Walk Hard: the Dewey Cox Story.”

So, there you have it: men who will bare their souls…and a lot more…for their art. Actors who have actively stripped to wearing nothing but a smile. Enjoy!

Grant Park flowerbeds.

When it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, you want to take a stroll to see what is happening in Grant Park, which happens to be in my neighborhood.

Besides gorgeous flower beds, there was a young man preparing to jump over a piece of park equipment on a small bicycle, for reasons that only he could explain.

Beginning of bike stunt in Grant Park.

Bike begins to go airborne.

He had no ramp, but he did have a friend ready to take pictures. I took a few of Trent, attired in his Burt Reynolds shirt, too, as he went airborne with his toddler-sized mountain bike.

Then there was the woman with the fat golden retrievers who, instead of walking the , was actually pushing them in what looked like a baby carriage. (And here I thought when people talked about how you have to “walk” dogs, they meant that the dogs would be actually walking.

And, last, but certainly not least, there was the giant eyeball, a sculpture positioned in Pritzker Park at State and VanBuren that stands 30 feet high and weighs 14,000 pounds. The downtown Chicago Loop Alliance commissioned the sculpture from Oak Park artist Tony Tasset, 49, and he used 24 pieces of fiberglass to produce a giant sculpture based on his own blue eye, but magnified over 1,000 times. The pieces of the sculpture, which was crafted in Sparta, Wisconsin, had to be trucked in on 13 trucks, according to the evening news.

For those of you who don’t read “Vanity Fair,” Christopher Hitchens is a columnist/regular contributer to same. He appeared at the noon luncheon of the BEA (BookExpo America) and mainly recited questionable limericks. I have to give this to him: he knew them from memory. One was a questionable item decrying the clergy for episodes of pedophilia, which I won’t repeat here for fear of offense.

True story, however: as I exited the Women’s Rest Room just opposite the downstairs hall in which the program was to take place, I saw some people entering a stairwell. One of those people, a rather tall gentleman, was holding what appeared to be a REAL drink (and it wasn’t even noon yet) so this caught my eye, and I decided, “Well, that person definitely is in to the sauce already today, and I’ll just follow that group in to find our seats.” I was halfway up the stairwell stairs when we hit the landing and I realized that the rather tall gentleman holding the drink (it was in a wine glass, anyway, and it certainly did not look like iced tea) I belatedly recognized as Christopher Hitchens, the keynote speaker. I remember thinking that it was too bad I didn’t have my camera with me, but my next thought was to exit as gracelessly as I had entered (i.e., stumbling into the wrong stairwell and almost ending up onstage, it would seem).

This sort of thing seems to happen to me a lot. I ended up in an elevator with Mickey Rooney and his 9th? 10th? wife in Washington, D.C. once at a poetry thing where he was to speak. (Actually, he spoke just a little, sat down, and his wife sang. She sings well.) His wife was quite angry with little Mickey (who came up to about boob-level) that he had “gotten on the wrong elevator.” Apparently, there was a “special” elevator for the star speaker, but Mickey—who was then nearing 80 if not already in his eighth decade—had picked the wrong elevator and therein lies my “brush with greatness.”

With Christopher Hitchens, I didn’t really stay in the stairwell long enough to be identified as an interloper and, therefore, was merely an audience member wondering why he just kept repeating limericks, some of them fairly outrageous, and then shared memories of deflowering various male members of Parliament or some such. I grew up in Iowa. I now live in Illinois. I am obviously out of the NYC loop and most of the audience that day, when Patton Oswalt (a comedian) hosted, seemed to be out of the NYC loop, also. I think there were several deep breaths taken by the audience (and deep drinks taken by Mr. Hitchens) before he abruptly exited, stage left (the very same stairwell he came in) to “catch a plane to London.” Ah, the lifestyle of the rich and famous!

In keeping with that lifestyle, I’d like to share with you, with appropriate attribution, Christopher Hitchen’s remarks, as quoted in something entitled “Diary” on page 82 of the July, 2010 “Vanity Fair.” It is just a small part of a longer piece, but, in light of my remarks above, I think you’ll get the general idea, and I won’t even tell you about the time I ended up in the elevator with Jesse Jackson’s entourage inside the Pepsi Center in Denver during the DNC, BEFORE he was accused of trying to purchase Barack Obama’s soon-to-be-empty Senate seat (which he vociferously denied).

Here is the excerpt from Christopher Hitchens’ diary, the very same C.H. with shom I had a “brush with greatness” in the stairwell of the Jacob Javits Center on May 27th,…although I’m sure he never knew I was there:

“There was a time when I could outperform all but the most hardened imbibers, a generous slug or 10 of Mr. Walker’s amber restorative being my tipple of preference.  It was between the Tel Aviv massacre and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.  I now restrict myself to no more than a couple of bottles of halfway decent wine for elevenses, and then a couple more as an accompaniment to luncheon, with Mr. Gordon’s gin firmly ensconced in the driving seat for the remainder of the day.  As an enthuisastic participant in the delights of Mr. Dionysus, I offer no apology for passing down these simple pieces of advice for the young.

Never drink before breakfast, unless the day of the week has a “u” in it.  Martinis go surprisingly well with Corn Flakes, while a medium dry sherry remains the perfect accompaniment to Mr. Kellogg’s admirable Rice Krispies.

It’s much worse to see a woman drunk than a man.  I don’t know why this is ture, but it is, it just is, I don’t care what you say, it just is and you can take that from me and anyway that’s not what I said. (*Author’s note: it is what you said, and it’s sexist as hell!)

And finally, if, like me, you are, like me, a professional scrivener, like me, never ever ever drunk while written an article column piece ever.  It is, perforce, something I never don’t.” (As told to Craig Brown and previously printed in “Private Eye”)

It’s raining in Tennessee and the severe weather and storms hadn’t let up as of 5 p.m. CDT. Local papers in Nashville said it was the worst flooding since 1974.

According to the Channel 5 news in Nashville (my5@newschannel5.com0 and the newspaper the Tennessean, there is a tornado watch for most of southwest Tennessee until 6 p.m. Six inches of rain fell Saturday night, and another 4 inches is expected by late Saturday. At 4:45 p.m., rain was still falling.

All high school proms were being canceled. There were 88 reports of road accidents and 30 people reported being stranded in their homes or cars. I40 in southwest Tennessee was shut down and I40 was shut down at the 59-mile marker on Saturday morning.

In the photo to the left, the black car belonged to a friend of my daughter’s and was parked in the Belmont University parking lot in Nashville. It was totaled.

In Memphis, the Interstate was closed. Franklin, where many rich and powerful stars reside (Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban, et. al.) was flooded. The Nashville Sounds baseball game was canceled.

This photo was taken by a friend from his window.

Tornado warnings had been issued for southeast Davidson County, eastern Williamson county, northern Rutherford, and western Wilson County. The Tennessee Department of Transportation canceled all roadwork on I440.

Another friend sent the picture below of her Nashville front yard under water. (Good thing the daughter lives on the third floor; many of her friends have 3 inches of water in their basements!)

Message: My front yard! Totally freaked out.

Today’s big gaffe by the Obama administration was made by Secretary of Transportation Ray LaHood—-coincidentally, my former neighbor in East Moline, Illinois, and a great guy (also, a Republican, most recently residing in Peoria, Illinois and representing that district in Illinois before his decision to retire.)

Ray was testifying before Congress about the sticking pedal on certain Toyota models, a number of which have been recalled by the company for fixing. The problem seemed to be that Ray was not speaking officially…or he didn’t think that he was, at the time he was testifying…but the man-in-the-street heard Ray LaHood, Secretary of Transportation, telling them to quit driving their Toyotas and drive immediately to the nearest Toyota dealership for a fix of the problem. (Oh, oh.)

In Ray’s defense, he corrected himself within 2 hours and admitted he had “misspoken,” but the harm was done. In Florida, where I am now, various channels had Floridians from all walks of life saying things like, “How will I get home from work?” (I’m not making this up, Folks. One of the interview subjects actually told the reporter this, with a very worried look.)

I am the proud owner of 2 Toyota Prius vehicles (I’ve written on this subject on AC before). I also owned a third, which is now in my son’s possession in Chicago. Of course, currently I’m not in Illinois, where my green Prius (the grasshopper) is sitting in the garage, waiting for me to make the final five payments to say that I own it. But I can assure you that I would not be panicking at the thought of driving that car home from work (if I had work to drive home from, that is.)

I read, elsewhere, that the co-founder of Apple says that his Prius will automatically escalate up to 97 mph when he uses his cruise control. [My answer to that would be, “Don’t use the cruise control.”]

Where has common sense gone in all the hoopla over the really unfortunate, although isolated, incidents involving (some) Toyota vehicles? The Lexus accident that precipitated the recall (of floor mats, initially) was truly horrifying, and it did take an inordinate amount of time for Toyota to own up to the fact that there was something going on with their vehicles, but things seem to be getting out of hand.

As I type this, I’m watching a satirical take-off on “American Idol’s” auditions on Jimmy Kimmel.  I watched the young man talk about how his father was eaten by an alligator (leg shown sticking out of alligator’s mouth) and, on the way home from the funeral service, someone threw a bucket at his mother from a bridge overpass as she drove underneath in a convertible. She had to be buried with the bucket on her head. (Okay…questionable taste and graphic there, but it was Jimmy Kimmel, not me.)

Given the panic that a simple misstatement by our current Secretary of Transportation (Ray LaHood) caused on February 3^rd after his inadvertent remark before Congress, the Toyota Tempest caused by Ray’s remark today (not the need for a fix for a real problem, but the foot-in-mouth comment) is ripe for a “Saturday Night Live” skit. I can see it now:

First, a shot of LaHood telling people not to drive their Toyota vehicles, but to take them immediately to dealerships.

Next, a shot of hordes of screaming villagers jamming the entrances to Toyota dealerships, nationwide, demanding the chip or floor mat or whatever it is that is supposed to end this madness, and demanding it RIGHT NOW! Maybe some of them could be carrying torches. Or, failing that, discarded rubber floor mats.

Next, a scene depicting those wusses who are still at work as the hour grows late, sitting there staring timidly at their parked Toyota vehicles but too afraid to climb in and drive 3 blocks home.

I’m obviously watching too much television while on vacation in the Sunshine State, where a shark ate a surfer today. (New Smyrna Beach is “the shark bite capital of the United States.”) To quote David Letterman, “Hep me! Hep me! I been hip-no-tized!”  watching this Toyota Tempest play out on television.

 And, Ray: I mean no disrespect. You’re doing a great job. Just get us that railroad paralleling I-80 (Chicago to the Quad Cities to Des Moines) and all is forgiven. I’ll even ask “Saturday Night Live” to call off the skit.