I did not like George W. Bush from the first moment I saw and heard him, but I will say this: I did not choose to judge him as a president until he'd gotten at least a year in office under his belt. It has always been true that liking someone as a personality has never been a sound gauge of that person's ability and competence, so Bush got that much of a pass from me. Wasn't I swell?

I voted for Obama, against some of my most ingrained political sensibilities, and so far I don't feel I've made a mistake. I am, however, more aware of his words and actions on a day-to-day basis than I ever was with any other President, and can't say that I'm letting him have a year in the job before making any judgments. It's not fair, but the simple fact is I'm expecting a lot and, in this economic climate, I find I don't have a surfeit of patience.

That also means I have zero patience for the likes of Cheney and Limbaugh and the kind of "Beware of Dog" antics they pull. They're doing nothing remotely constructive, nothing that helps, nothing that heals. And yes, I take that very personally.

When I read a story like this, I can't help thinking that the autistic person in question is caught between being humane and being primal. Perhaps it is an overload of testosterone that, in some cases, causes this condition, pushing the body past what might be its normal development and undermining the person's ability to moderate impulses, impulses that are perhaps themselves overdeveloped. We are all vulnerable to chemistry, especially our own, and medical science is having to do a lot of catching up in terms of understanding what really happens when the chemical side of our development goes haywire.

Is testosterone the demon behind all autism? I doubt it, and I doubt it's even the real reason for most male autism, but perhaps it is the accelerant in cases of this sort, creating what might once have been simply called (and dismissed as) brutes but which are in truth very complex people who are also, sadly, very dangerous.

Bull Durham - one of the best films ever made, let alone about as good as a baseball movie gets. It even treats evangelical Christianity with amiable humor and, of all things, respect.

Major League - not in Bull Durham's league, but well aware of its theme and its comedic goals, which it achieves with admirable and entertaining consistency. (Bob Uecker is this one's hands-down MVP.) And it spawned a decent sequel.

A League of Their Own - Again, when on its game, baseball inspires some of the best character-driven cinematic comedy around. And what other film can boast Madonna and Rosie O'Donnell in an ensemble supporting cast that works?

Field of Dreams - I couldn't quite buy this one, though I admire the effort. Amy Madigan did much to keep the syrup from bubbling over, and the ending was genuinely moving.

What's utterly hysterical is the idea that, once they have their pants off, any two people ready to get down to it give a flying half-damn whether they're shaved or not, much less exactly how little, how much, and in what style. Again, consumerism run amok, goaded by the fashionistas. Like we need more of that.

The truth about the commercial kitchen? Look no further than "Down and Out In Paris and London" by George Orwell (yes, that George Orwell). He lived it, breathed it, and told it like it was and still very much is, only franchised!

The sections about food in "The Good Old Days—They Were Terrible!" by Otto Bettmann was enough by itself-we've looked into the matter a great deal more since-to put my wife and I off of worrying about the food we buy at the conventional grocery stores. The way we poison ourselves now isn't a toss on how we would've quite readily and unwittingly poisoned ourselves 150 years ago.

Many of the issues of food safety in our age are indeed serious, but far too much of it is straining at gnats while we invest no thought in how far we really have come in that regard in the last few generations. Some perspective there would go a long way to shedding meaningful light on the real deficiencies we face today.

Well, if Al Franken never gets seated for the duration of his elected term, at least he'll have loads of material for another bestselling book. What'll Norm Coleman have, other than the reputation of a notorious obstructionist for a fading political party? Maybe he's got his eye on becoming Rush Limbaugh's heir apparent, though he desperately needs to take bluster lessons from Blagojevich (I loves me a twisted irony) to even hope to become a contender.

Let's see, male genital health issues…

Prostate trouble? A biggie, complete with all kinds of attendant lifestyle, sex-life, and mortality issues.

Presence or absence of foreskin? Golly, after dealing with the above, let's see if I give a rip…nope, I don't.

I was circumcised in infancy back when it was pretty much SOP in midwestern hospitals. I have no memory of it, and never missed that bit one bit. On the other hand, if I still had that bit, I sure wouldn't opt to get it nipped off now.

And that, friends and neighbors, is the sum total of the issue as far as I'm concerned.

Yes, this hysteria, sparked by a same-named pathogen, has happened before and well within living memory - mine, for one. I was in the Army at the time and got the government-prescribed inoculation. Must've been a doozy of a dose, because I haven't had an identifiable case of any kind of flu since.

Say, maybe us 50-somethings who got that inoculation will be the last standing when this latest outbreak wipes out the rest of the human race.