While Herbert Hoover's presidency is regarded as disastrous, he achieved quite a bit earlier in his career. He was a successful mining engineer, served as the head of the government's food administration during the First World War, and organized relief efforts in Europe during and immediately after the war. He was also an energetic secretary of commerce and was specifically asked to coordinate relief after the great 1927 floods along the Mississippi River. It's a pity he didn't quit while he was ahead.

Scum always floats to the top.

After all, laws and responsibility are for the little people, not for the Masters of the Universe.

Let consumers eat cake -- with lead-sprinkled, pthalate-laced, pesticide-laden, high fructose corn syrup-based icing, of course.

Have you considered marketing communications, public relations, or technical writing? They're all good fits for someone with a journalism background and good writing chops. There's quite a bit of freelance work available in these areas, too (not to mention permanent jobs) and they pay reasonably well. Plus, they can provide a pretty wide scope for creativity depending on the job.

If you really, really want to be a journalist, this is probably not the best path to go down. But if you want to work as a writer and are flexible about the context, these kinds of professional writing jobs are worth investigating.

It isn't the source of this kind of bad conduct, but it sure acts as a focus for it and provides a forum where it can get popular exposure.

Cracking down on a nuisance bar won't stop people from being drunk, obnoxious, and violent, but it does remove a place where they can congregate, egg each other on, and cause trouble together. Cracking down on MySpace would probably have a similar effect. People would still post "beat 'em up" videos on other sites, but won't get the massive public exposure that gives them their Warholian 15 minutes on MySpace.

This kind of thing has been going on forever. Where I live, they're called midnight plumbers. They rip copper pipe out of abandoned houses and new construction (presumably they are going to branch out into lead pipe now), steal copper cable, and generally make off with any kind of scrap metal that isn't nailed down. They've even carried off public sculptures and bronze plaques from cemetaries to sell for scrap. (In both incidents, the scrap dealer who bought them claimed he didn't know they were stolen ... yeah, right.) When the steel industry cratered, quite a few laid-off workers surreptitiously looted the abandoned mills of piping, cable, etc. A few of them got killed -- I remember reading about one poor sod who was trying to steal copper electrical cable and didn't realize it was still live.

If the historic preservation law gave churches an exception from the "original materials" clause (for instance, by allowing them to replace their lead roofs with something else that looks similar), these churches could make a tidy profit by selling their lead roofs on the scrap metal market.

At least the latest "Horton" adaptation didn't make the daughters into 96 dancing princesses with accessories available for purchase at your neighborhood Wal-Mart.

I suppose the "mayor's son" subplot was put in to add a character that little boys could identify with, pad the movie's running time, and perhaps sell some action figures. But I for one would prefer a leaner, more faithful adaptation ... like the original animated cartoon! Maybe I'll watch that one again and skip the CGI version. Or even ... wait, wait, don't tell me ... read the book! There are no mayor's sons who need to be urged into action by their passive sisters, just a kid who's reluctant to speak up and has to be practically bullied into doing so by the Mayor.

Through the town rushed the Mayor, From the east to the west.
But everyone seemed to be doing his best.
Everyone seemed to be yapping or yipping!
Everyone seemed to be beeping or bipping!
But it wasn’t enough, all this ruckus and roar!
He HAD to find someone to help him make more.
He raced through each building! He searched floor-to-floor!

And, just as he felt he was getting nowhere,
And almost about to give up in despair,
He suddenly burst through a door and that Mayor
Discovered one shirker! Quite hidden away
In the Fairfax Apartments (Apartment 12-J)
A very small, very small shirker named Jo-Jo
was standing, just standing, and bouncing a Yo-Yo!
Not making a sound! Not a yipp! Not a chirp!
And the Mayor rushed inside and he grabbed the young twerp!

And he climbed with the lad up the Eiffelberg Tower.
“This,” cried the Mayor, “is your towns darkest hour!
The time for all Whos who have blood that is red
To come to the aid of their country!” he said.
“We’ve GOT to make noises in greater amounts!
So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!”

Thus he spoke as he climbed. When they got to the top,
The lad cleared his throat and he shouted out, “YOPP!”

And that Yopp…
That one small, extra Yopp put it over!
Finally, at last! From that speck on that clover
Their voices were heard! They rang out clear and clean.
And the elephant smiled. “Do you see what I mean?…
They’ve proved they ARE persons, no matter how small.
And their whole world was saved by the smallest of All!”

A session of summer bible camp isn't going to turn them into miniature Jerry Falwells. (My kids have endured numerous vacation bible schools and are still perfect little heathens.)