After thinking about it, and jogging some old memories, I've changed my mind.

In rural states where just getting to the clinic is a big deal, for poor women being transported by a social worker (like me), having to visit twice is quite a burden. If abortion is legal you shouldn't put restrictions on it that in effect make it unobtainable.

"I was so appalled and I ran downstairs in tears to my mother thinking I was going to be in trouble."

Her fear was of the law.

Kind of opposite from the point she was trying to make, I think.

. . . I don't think that suggestion would fly very well.

I don't think you realize how unsatisfying -- and intimacy-destroying -- the withdrawal method is for the male. Some manage it and can still call the sex "satisfactory", but imagine for a moment if the roles were reversed here.

Because very few of us have the oodles of time and $$$ that you do. He is actually living what we middle-aged men fantasize about. But can't do, for reasons that have nothing to do with middle-age inertia.

I wouldn't mind so much if his story was more about mountains and mountain hiking, and less about Mark Obascmik.

Stepping outside the context here, I do concur about changing one's body and one's life. Without any of Mark's free time or $$$, I changed my own body at age 49. I lost 50 pounds in 6 months. I did it by pretending I was young again, waking up at 5:30 to throw baseballs at a handball wall. 300 pitches and you've gone 45 minutes or so. I did the first 100 throws with a weighted ball I'd bought off the internet. Concentrating on the pitches kept my mind engaged. Afterward I was sweating and ready for more (but by then it was time to get the kids ready for school). It was a good aerobic workout.

It's ironic how physical exertion can give you more energy. I needed less sleep, my step was lighter, and I went from a 40 waist to 32. By the time the weight was off, I was finally motivated to go into the health club with my wife ($35/month), something which previously had bored me to tears. Three years later, the weight's still off.

I could write a story about that, but I don't have the connections and reading about a handball wall is not as interesting as reading about climbiing mountains.

. . . is that the emotional center of the film was the Italian-American pizza owner and his two sons (the only people in the film who appeared to be working; hard work was something only white people do), the black characters were mostly one-dimensional, the "climax" rang clangingly, thuddingly false, and my black girlfriend was so turned off by the hate that she wanted to leave.

This was New York, 1989.

There was also that edifying graffiti, "Tawana told the truth", with no explanation. As usual, Spike threw gas on the flame just for the heck of it.

Of course. reasonable minds can differ. Why bring stuff up like that up again? Let's just leave this film in the past, O.K.?

"I've always been amused by the way Brits simply refuse to even try to pronounce "foreign" words and names properly. This refusal has always made them sound pompous and superior."

Actually it's the other way around. NOBODY -- *anywhere in the world* -- pronounces foreign words the way foreigners do . . . except snooty liberal Americans.

Go on to Spanish or French TV and you won't see any attempt at pronouncing English words or names the way we do.

The worst are the NPR announcers. They continue to pronounce "malaise" and "homage" (for example) as if they're still French words. And who's Cindy Doligez? Nope -- it's Cindy Rodriguez, the NPR reporter whose tongue continues to curl around the Hispanic pronunciation of her last name. It took awhile for me to get it. It's her name, of course, and she can pronounce it the way she wants to. But she shouldn't be surprised if people get her name wrong. We didn't sign up for a class in Spanish pronunciation, y'know.

I have a long Italian name which my grandparents (immigrants) started pronouncing in the American way. It was a sign of respect and assimilation.

Now as to Sonia:

Pronouncing "Sotomayor" on the last syllable, though, is not too much of a stretch. Now, if her name was "Jorjero" and she insisted on spitting out those gutteral "j's", a sound that does not occur in English, that would be a different story.

Houses had gotten so expensive that the average family could not buy a decent first home without going in for a no-money-down, subprime mortgage. Once you're in that position, your margin of error is very thin. And with the recession, any job loss (or even substantial pay cut) and the margin is gone.

And, of course, mortgages are the one thing the bankruptcy judge can't renegotiate.

. . . you should go back to starting with "Wall Street Journal Comics Presents". Let 'em sue you. The publicity would be great.

Another fine strip!

The crassness of this post, and the comments, are striking.

For a teenager with surging hormones, being able to hug is a very big deal. Imagine feeling the mounds of that lusted-after girl's breasts, the whiff of her perfume, her soft neck against your nose.

For a teenage boy stuck in what has been called "the guy code", the change to a culture where boys hug each other is very significant.

. . . where girls have outperformed boys for years.

Language skills, folks, are much more important in the professional world than math skills. Only a small percentage of professions use math.

I'd like to hear about the reasons for this bigger and more damaging gender gap. Could it be that boys have it rougher than girls? Are we even allowed to think that? How can this happen in a "patriarchy"?