Sometimes it’s the little things that can save the world.

Yesterday on my way into the office I stopped at Dunkin Donuts to pick up a lemon poppy seed muffin. Maybe not the healthiest thing in the world, but I have a suspicion that the low-fat blueberry muffins are loaded with other stuff to make up for the lack of tasty fat – things like sugar, extra chemicals, hormones, high fructose corn syrup (which is the nom de plume of sugar) and possibly some other ingredients with very long names.

So I paid for the muffin, took my receipt, and had a strange thought. Because of that thought, I stood there and watched the line for a few minutes, and besides realizing that the eating habits of the average American are pretty disgusting, had a small but possibly far reaching epiphany.

Why did they need to give me a receipt for a lemon poppy seed muffin that was handed to me on the spot? I couldn’t imagine a scenario where this would even be remotely useful. If I got to the office and said to Harriet:

“Hey – I just had a great lemon poppy seed muffin at Dunkin Donuts,”

is there any chance that she would retort

“You lying sack of shit! I don’t believe you. Can you prove it?”

At which point I would smugly pull out my receipt and yell

“Yeah – here’s your proof baby!”

That just does not happen. And as far as I know, no one has ever been asked to provide a muffin receipt as part of a tax return unless that muffin was a business expense, in which case you should have gone somewhere a lot fancier than Dunkin Donuts.

Think about how many times each day someone goes to 7-11, McDonalds, Starbucks or the like and is given a totally useless paper receipt? It’s got to be in the billions.

Yeah, I know – sometimes they will actually ask you if you want a receipt. But if you say “no thanks,” they simply print the thing up and stick it in the trash.

So what would happen if all of these places stopped printing out receipts unless the customer requested one?

· Hundreds of thousands of trees would be saved
· Countless less acres of landfill space would be used
· Carbon dioxide emissions would be decreased significantly
· Business would save billions of dollars in paper, toner and electricity – which could be passed on to the consumer or used to increase profits
· There would be lots less trash to clean up

The downside? I can’t really think of one.

So there you have it – a tiny, simple, sensible idea that truly could change the world. I just have no idea how to implement it!!

Rich

As any good old American knows, in this here country of ours we have certain inalienable rights. No one knows what inalienable actually means, but we sure do cherish those rights of ours. We got the Bill Of Rights, The Right to Life, a Jeep Liberty, and the Trivial Pursuit of Happiness (or something like that), the right to make a right on red, the right that two wrongs don’t make, and all kinds of other good stuff.

But perhaps the most abused and often misunderstood right is The Right To Be An A-Hole. And damn it, no one can ever take that right away!

I was reminded of this special privilege after attending a concert last night. It was truly amazing how many people just seemed so intent on making other people around them miserable. But maybe I should give them the benefit of the doubt and just hope that no one ever sat down and explained to them that there are laws and there are rules – and you need to know both. The difference is that breaking a law (robbing a bank with a water pistol, for example) can land you in the clink, while breaking a societal rule (cutting in front of others in line and the like) just makes you one who is exercising the aforementioned right that began this blog.

So as a service to society, I am proud to present part one in The Right To Be An A-Hole series:

The Rules Of Concert Etiquette.

Now these rules are different than things that just make you look like a moron but don’t really hurt anyone else. For example, everyone who’s anyone knows that you don’t wear a t-shirt to a concert that includes the name of the band that is performing. After all, if you weren’t a fan of that band, you wouldn’t be there in the first place! This is called a “T-Shirt Violation” and is a total sin and sign of ignorance amongst concert insiders. (By the way, as was the case last night, this includes things such as wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt to a Robert Plant/Alison Krauss show. To make matters worse, a shirt that looks brand new but says “Led Zeppelin World Tour 1972” on it is wrong in so many ways that it barely warrants a mention. But back to the topic at hand...)

Things like t-shirt violations, while good for a few laughs from the true aficionados, aren’t really breaking etiquette rules because they don’t bother anyone else. So without any further delay (as if that’s possible) let’s get back to-

The Rules Of Concert Etiquette

Rule # 1: Know When To Stand And When To Sit

At certain shows, maybe like AC/DC or a show at a small venue with no seats, it is totally acceptable to stand for the entire show. But at less raucous type events, other than standing as part of an ovation or maybe during an encore, it is usually best to sit. As a rule of thumb, if everyone around you is sitting and you are standing – you are bothering them!

Last night there was this big sweaty dude right in front of the stage who was standing during the entire show, and not even multiple yells of “Down in front!” or the pleading of an usher would get him to sit down. To make matters worse (much worse) he was doing this crazy kind of dance the whole time, even during the very slow songs, that resembled a grand mal epileptic seizure. I didn’t know if I should have called over security or a doctor! Unfortunately, this one jerk thought it was his private show and ruined it for many others.

Rule # 2: Don’t Try To Join The Band From Your Seat

Yes – I’m sure that you have an amazing singing voice and know every word to the songs of your favorite artist, but please save it for the car, shower, or your nearby karaoke bar. Unless the performing artist is encouraging a sing-a-long, keep your mouth shut.

Many years ago, when I was younger and braver (or stupider, as the case probably was) I was at a Jackson Browne show and the guy next to me was singing along so loudly I could barely hear good old J.B. So I turned to him and said,

“Hey dude – I can hear you sing any night of the week, but Jackson Browne is only in town for one night.”

Fortunately he took the hint and stopped singing instead of punching my lights out.

The same rule goes for doing anything else that makes it seem as if you are in the band. This chick who sat next to me last night was clapping along to every song so loudly I swear she had microphones installed in her hands and was wired through the house sound system. It would have been no less annoying if I had brought my Fender Telecaster and a portable amplifier to the show and played along.

Rule # 3: Sit In Your Own Seat

The tickets have designated sections, rows and seat numbers. If you couldn’t get to the internet on time or were too cheap to call your local scalper….ummmm…. I mean ticket broker, then just sit in your crappy nosebleeds and make the best of it. Don’t sit in someone else’s seat and then act surprised when they show up. It’s just annoying.

Rule # 4: Shut The Hell Up!!

You wouldn’t go to a play or a movie and sit there not paying attention and yapping to your friends all night. Well, just because a concert is loud, talking during the show still annoys people. And that counts for the opening act as well. Show the artist some respect! If you don’t care about the opening act and want to talk, stay in the parking lot or go out to the foyer. There are some people in there called music fans who enjoy hearing an act they may not be familiar with. And don’t forget – whoever your favorite band or artist is, they were once an opener. After all, Jimi Hendrix once opened for The Monkees, Bruce Springsteen once opened for Chicago, The Who once opened for Herman’s Hermits, and Wilco once opened for Bedtime For Jack. (Well, maybe the last one was my fantasy, but the others are true.) You never know what great band of the future you may be seeing.

Rule # 5: Keep Your Intoxication Level To A Minimum

Sure – some people like to have a drink or two before a show. But if you show up drunk off your ass, not only will you not remember the show, you will make a fool of yourself and annoy everyone around you.

Rule # 6: - Stay In Your Seat!

Why is it that Americans cannot go for more than 45 minutes without having something to eat or drink? When you decide you just can’t live without that hot dog and Coke for another second and have to make an entire row stand up to let you out, you may be interrupting someone else’s favorite song. And if you’re going out for that fourth beer, just pee while you’re out of the venue instead of coming back in and then leaving again twenty minutes later.

Rule # 7: - Don’t Yell Out Requests

Unless it’s a small bar gig or a solo acoustic performance (and it’s somewhat obnoxious then as well) these highly trained professional musicians that you have paid a small fortune to see have their show planned out. They have sound cues, lighting cues, guitar techs, crew members, and many other things going on that follow that list. And I got news for you – Bono ain’t gonna drop everything they are doing and play “Sunday Bloody Sunday” at the wrong time just because some moron is screaming it out.

Rule # 8: - Don’t Pretend You Have ESP

Look – everyone knows that these days you can go on the internet and get setlists from previous shows on the tour. But there may be people there who don’t want to know ahead of time what songs will be played and in what order. So when you very loudly proclaim “They’re gonna play Wonderwall and then Champagne Supernova and then come back for an encore” it doesn’t make you appear any smarter and you may have just ruined a great surprise for someone. You wouldn’t sit through a showing of The Crying Game yelling “She’s got a penis!!” so don’t do it at a concert either.

Rule # 9 – “Cousin Neal’s Rule”

Getting a bunch of friends together to see a show is usually a great experience, but for the person who has (or was) volunteered to secure the tickets, it can be a pain in the ass. So – if someone else got the tickets, please please please don’t complain about anything, including the exorbitant cost of the concert, crappy location of the seats, quality of the show, the fact that Ian Anderson's voice has gone considerably downhill, or anything else for that matter. Just thank them for doing the dirty job that no one wanted. Oh – and if you owe them money for the tickets, pay up before the show starts – in cash.

Rule # 10 – Reach A Reasonable Level Of Hygiene Before Entering The Venue

Listen up Flower Child. The 60’s are over, and these days it is the societal norm to shower daily and use deodorant. And believe me honey – that patchouli ain’t doing a thing to mask the foul odor coming from those unsightly unshaven armpits. It is tough for others to enjoy the concert if they are scowling the whole time due to someone's severe case of bromodrosis.

Rule # 11 – The Golden Rule Of Concert Going

Concerts are a great place to cut loose, get into some fine live music and have a good time. After all, it’s only rock and roll. But if your having a good time interferes with someone else’s right to enjoy the show, you’ve gone too far. So sit down, shut up and oh-oh-oh---listen to the music. That’s what it’s all about.

Stay tuned for part two of this informative series. See you then.

Rich

Ever since The Brady Bunch did it in the late '60s, I've always wanted to take the famous mule ride down into the Grand Canyon. After traveling much of the world but never crossing this one off my list, I finally got the chance to do it last week with my kids. It was truly an amazing experience, but if you are planning on doing so one day (and you absolutely should), I gotta give you a few warnings.

First, there is something you need to know. Since the Grand Canyon is one of the most visited attractions in the world, I'm sure that many of you have been there. But if you merely went to every overlook and peered down, no matter how spectacular the views (and they are certainly real and spectacular) you haven't really seen the canyon.

Now many would say that the best way to experience this wonder of the world is to take the two day or longer hike all the way down the Colorado River and back, and they are probably right. But just as I call a plumber when my toilet is leaking and visit a mechanic when the "check engine" light goes on in my car, I figured hey - why not leave it to the professionals? In this case that meant those famous Grand Canyon mules who have been doing this for over 100 years. (By the looks of them I think there are still a few originals in the bunch.) That's right - why trust your own two feet when you can put your life in the hands (or actually feet) of a 1300 pound animal who had a jackass as a father and posseses the IQ of a cauliflower stalk?

If you've done this, you will probably know that what others have said is true - it's the experience of a lifetime - one reason being that once you do it you will never do it again! But please do it - and make your reservations now. The groups are tiny and they book up nine months to a year in advance.

And although before mounting these massive creatures they give you an hour long safety briefing which will most likely scare the shit out of you (along with having you sign a waiver where almost every other word is "death,") there are a few things they don't bother telling you. Since there is no turning back, you won't learn these things until it is too late, so as a public service announcement I'd like to let you know a few things about this crazy adventure.

- While the mules can stop and pee anytime they like, which resembles a five minute yellow thunderstorm, they encourage the riders to drink water all day long but only give you two bathroom breaks in eight hours. There is just nothing like bouncing up and down on a mule for a few miles while your bladder is about to burst.

- Speaking of body functions, some of the mules must get beans and cabbage for breakfast because a select few are constantly farting, quite noisily and odiferous. This may explain why mules don't reproduce. Oh, and by the way, the most offensive mule will have his ass directly in front of you.

- When the mule starts goofing off, which is often, they all of a sudden look up and realize it is time to catch the herd, which results in a full out gallop (which is extra fun on a full bladder). They usually choose to do this on the part of the trail with the most hairpin turns and deadly cliff-dropping views.

- The top few miles of the trail (at least until the spring melt) are covered in ice. Hikers are required to wear crampons (sharp metal spikes on their shoes) but apparantly that rule does not apply to the mules. There is nothing quite like seeing the mule in front of you slip and slide a few feet with two of their four hooves dangling over the edge of a cliff and knowing your mule is about to do the same.

- No matter how wide the trail, mules love to walk on the outer millimeter. Since their bodies are so wide, this places you midair looking straight down into the world's depeest canyon. One slip and you will turn into a bowl full of scenery.

- There are muscles in your body of which you are not aware. You will be after this trip.

- If you are the final mule in the pack (which should be blatantly obvious to anyone hiking the trail) fifty percent of the hikers will be asking you "Are you the last one?" It's good to have some ready-made answers. Here are a few of my favorites.

"No - the imaginary mule behind me is."

"Depends on which direction you are hiking."

Point to the person in front of you and say, "No - he is."

"Last? I prefer to be called Anchor Mule."

"Yes. Will you vote for me?"

"Shhh....you're getting Pancho upset."

- When a wrangler stops for a few minutes to rest the mules, the beasts will insist on standing with their front feet on the very edge of the trail facing forward into what appears to be a solid five mile drop straight down. So if there happens to be a twig, bush, dead hiker, or anything else in front of you which resembles mule food, they will lean forward and lower their stupid mule heads, giving you a straight down in-the-air overlook of the canyon - a viewpoint which no human being was really meant to see.

- Even though they say you can't bring anything, take along a small container of Purell. After having your hands on a mule all morning and using a toilet that is not much more than a big can in the ground, you'll be the hero of your group when lunch is passed around. Speaking of lunch, never read the ingredients on a beef jerky label. It ain't called jerky for nothing.

In any case, despite the smelly slipping mules and death defying views, it really was a fantastic experience. And if you are taller than 4'7" and weigh less than 200 pounds fully clothed (and they do weigh you) - then don't let anything stop you! Round up some family or friends and explore one of the seven natural wonders of the world on the back of a mule. It will truly be an experience you will never forget, or at least until the dementia kicks in.

Or if not this, do something else you have always wanted to do. You never know when your last chance will be. And feel free to drop me a line at rich@madow.com to tell me what you crossed of your list.

Rich

Oh - by the way, my new book, Is Your Frog Boiling? has been getting more positive feedback than ever! To take the "Froggy Quiz" to find out if your own frog is boiling, see the symptoms of Boiling Frog Syndrome, or check out my latest book tour schedule, please visit www.isyourfrogboiling.com.

“Will you still need me,
Will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four?”

Yes, The Beatles classic tune When I’m Sixty-Four, which was written by Paul McCartney as a teenager and immortalized by the group on the album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band when the “cute one” was a mere twenty-four years old, came true just a few years ago. On June 18, 2006 Sir Paul turned 64 years old, and the famous line written by then rebellious Pete Townsend of The Who in the same year – “I hope I die before I get old” – became more and more irrelevant. Paul and Pete seem to be aging pretty well for two old geezers who respectively lost ten billion dollars in a divorce settlement and got busted for “researching” kiddie porn.

I don’t know about you, but when I was twenty-four years old, I thought that anyone in their sixties was a downright antique. But now the age of 64 doesn’t seem quite as old (or far away), and I know many sixty-plus year olds (or thereabouts) who are incredibly youthful. It certainly is different than the sixty-four of even a generation ago. (Talkin’ ‘bout my g-g-g-generation.)

One difference between youth and middle age seems to be the way that the open-mindedness and optimism of our twenties tends to decay into cynicism and ambivalence as we grow older. Add to that all of the internet scams and rumors that are so pervasive these days and, well, I have to admit that I really don’t believe anything I hear or see anymore. Which brings us to a somewhat personal story.

A couple of years ago, I noticed a small wart on my upper lip. It wasn’t like a huge dripping honker that would cause people on the subway to point and giggle, but it was still somewhat annoying, and realizing that it probably wouldn’t look too appetizing on those sixteen by sixteen foot screens at our upcoming Vegas seminar (which was just a few months away) I decided to do something about it.

After quite a bit of begging, pleading, cajoling, and sweet talking the receptionist at my dermatologist’s office, I was actually able to get an appointment a few weeks away. Apparently, my dermatologist is so fantastic that one cannot actually get an appointment with her. This seems to be the major status symbol in medicine.

“My doctor is so great, I have to wait three months for an appointment.”

“Well, my doctor is even BETTER, because I have to wait six months just to come in for a ‘look-see’.“

“Sorry – I’ve got that beat. My doctor is so incredibly amazing, no one can actually get an appointment. As a matter of fact, I’m not positive that he exists, but everyone says he is the best!”

So anyway, I managed to get in, and after a quick examination, I was told what I already knew – I had a wart on my lip. She said that the best route would be a surgical wartectomy, and offered to perform this procedure as her schedule allowed. So I figured that since I was going to have to wait an inordinate amount of time anyway, I may as well wait to see a plastic surgeon instead of a dermatologist. After all, we’re talking about holding a knife to your face (or I just could have wandered over to downtown Baltimore, where that happens on a regular basis).

So okay – the day finally comes to see this very fine plastic surgeon, who is used to sculpting breasts and tummies, sucking pounds of fat out of lady’s thighs, and making everyone look like Joan Rivers, and there I am with my tiny little lip wart, which he proceeded to beautifully remove in all of ten seconds, leaving no scar and what looked to be a beautiful result.

The problem with warts of course, is that they are caused by a virus, and no matter how beautiful the removal, they do tend to have a reoccurrence problem. So of course in the middle of the busy Madow Brothers World Tour my little friend (who I had nicknamed “Wharton”) decided to return for an encore. Oh – what to do, what to do?

I somehow managed to get an appointment right away with my Doctor Of Skinology (someone must have had the gall to cancel at the last minute. Actually, that’s impossible. Maybe someone died.). She confirmed that yes, Wharton had returned, but since I had the plastic surgeon remove him the first time, I should go back there instead.

With the feeling that I was being punished, I called his office, where after about ten minutes his receptionist came back on the phone and told me that since it was a wart (no duh!) I should see a dermatologist. Can’t say I blame him – if I were a plastic surgeon I probably wouldn’t get out of bed for less than ten grand, or at least the chance to do something really cool like sew up someone’s forehead or do something involving boobies.

Okay – so back on the merry-go-round again, but this time I wasn’t so lucky. I guess no one died, or at the very least became gravely ill, and the next dermo appointment wasn’t available for months.

Desperation was now setting in – I had a bunch of meetings and seminars coming up and really didn’t want to bring Wharton along. So where does one turn these days when they don’t know what else to do? Of course – that source of knowledge and information that is always guaranteed to be 100% accurate – that’s right –

The Internet!!!

Wow – what an onslaught of information!! I learned more about warts than I ever wanted to know, and was especially amazed at the amount of remedies that my finely trained physicians never even told me about! My favorite of the bunch was surely “Duct Tape Occlusion Therapy,” where you just rub your wart with an emery board and cover it with duct tape for six days, upon which point your wart does what everything else secured with duct tape does – falls off.

Sure – it sounded quite tempting, but I couldn’t quite fathom walking around with duct tape on my lip for six hours let alone six days, and then, what happens if it doesn’t work? Do you switch to WD-40? After all, a handyman once told me that the only things you need in your tool kit are duct tape and WD-40, saying,

“If it’s supposed to move and doesn’t – WD-40. If it moves and isn’t supposed to – duct tape.”

Sure makes sense to me! So after spending hours of reading about miracle cures and looking at disgusting before and after pictures, I eliminated all of the candidates except for one that just seemed to be calling my name – that’s right – “The World’s Only 20 Minute Single Application Wart Removal System” –

Wart Mole Vanish!!

After all, it was safe, 100% natural, and had no side effects! Now how could you beat that? So I forked my eighty bucks over (no insurance coverage here!) and a few days later a little jar with a few implements arrived right to my mailbox. Wow – this was sure easier than going to a real doctor!!

Okay – so here’s the procedure. First I had to wash Wharton with a sterilizing liquid (which strangely resembled water) and then scrape him with a little thing that looked like a sewing needle to open up the pores. Next came the application of the Wart Mole Vanish Cream – a white pasty substance that had to be applied very carefully lest it should touch the skin around the affected area. Ouch – it burned like hell, and even though no sizzling sounds could be heard, twenty minutes later when I washed the cream off Wharton looked like he had been set on fire. After that, I didn’t have to do anything but wait.

Now here’s the amazing thing. About four days later (sooner than promised) Wharton shriveled up and fell off faster than an 80 year old coming down from Viagra, with absolutely no scar, spot, or any other sign of his past presence. It was actually quite impressive. Months have passed, and the area looks completely beautiful. Could this stuff be the real deal? It just may be so. So why don’t physicians recommend it? I’m not really sure. I’m definitely not the type to believe in conspiracy theories (i.e. physicians don’t recommend this because it will cut into their business), but the fact is, everybody has their niche of knowledge and nobody knows everything.

Nevertheless, I am still extremely cynical about so many of the products, supplements, pharmaceuticals, nutraceuticals, etc. that are out there these days, even though whoever is hawking them can always manage to bore you with eight thousand studies done at “leading research institutions” proving why their particular snake oil is the best. I’m even more cautious about products that are sold via multi-level marketing (or as some like to call it – “network marketing”). After all, if they are so great, why aren’t they available through traditional channels?

However, sometimes no matter how much of a skeptic one may be, in times of desperation (which is how I felt with Wharton) you may be willing to try some things that you wouldn’t ordinarily do – and maybe even be happy with the results. In this case, I did, and learned along the way that maybe it’s okay to open one’s mind just a bit in an area where they once refused. You may just be amazed what can happen!

Politics and Religion

Wow – it sure has been quite some time since the last blog! Things have been pretty hectic around here, and all the more so due to the publication of my brand new book, Is Your Frog Boiling? There have been lots of speaking engagements and many radio shows in support of it, and if you haven’t been tuned in, please visit www.isyourfrogboiling.com for more information. You can even take the “Froggy Quiz” there to see if your own frog is boiling.

It’s commonly known that when doing speaking engagements, interviews, etc., unless you have been specifically asked to discuss these things, two topics to always avoid are politics and religion. So for all you Commies, I swear to God to stay away from those subjects. But as I was driving today something inherently unfair about the age-old political system in the United States occurred to me, and I can’t recall reading much about it anywhere else. So here goes.

These guys who are sometimes known as “The Framers Of Our Constitution” were pretty sharp dudes, especially that Jefferson fellow – but all of ‘em had to be pretty damn smart to have written such concise and beautiful documents as The Bill Of Rights and The U.S. Constitution. These are not only still in use centuries after their creation but have been an excellent example for all the world to see how to run a pretty decent government right up until the time that lobbyists were invented. Even so, they seem to be working quite well.

Now if you were born in a foreign country and had to take a test to become a U.S. citizen, or if you graduated in the top 8% of your high school class, you probably know that what we have here running this country are three branches of government.

The Judicial Branch, known as The Supreme Court, is in my opinion the most powerful, not only because they decide anything that is truly important, but because once appointed to this court it is impossible to leave, even if the clerk of the court has to come in every hour or so to wipe the drool from your face and change your Depends. Yes – it’s a pretty powerful bunch of old geezers on that bench. Okay - how many of them can you name? Think about it. Do you even know how many there are? (Hint: It’s a number said repeatedly on The Beatles' “White Album.”) Can you name more than three? Well you should be able to, because those codgers are the most influential nine (whoops – gave it away!) people in the country. No one seems to be able to name these extremely important people, yet everyone knows that the Vice President is Dick Cheney. But let’s face it – what the hell is the job of the Vice President except to wake up every morning and ask if the President is still alive?

That brings us to the least important branch (sorry George, Hilary, Rudy, or whoever) – the executive. But let’s skip over them for now (and forever) and move to the branch that really has me upset – the legislative branch, which consists of the Senate and The House Of Representatives. Now once again, if you had to take a citizenship test or actually stayed awake in civics class, you know that the number of congressional representatives varies by state depending on population, but every state, no matter how lame, has two senators. This is the part that is really bothering me.

Why should California (population 37,000,000) have the same amount of senators as Wyoming (population 515,000)? Five hundred thousand people in that humungous state? Wow – I feel like there are that many people here at the mall when it gets crowded. But those senators get the same vote and thus are just as influential as those from The Golden State. Do a little math and you will find that Senator Michael Enzi (R, Wyoming) is 72 times more powerful per capita than that honey-bun, Senator Barbara Boxer (D, California).

Now things are pretty populous here in Maryland, as well as those large states like California, New York, Florida, Pennsylvania, etc. And anyone from a “snob state” like me will tell you that we are the leaders in education, culture, health care, etc.. As a matter of fact, the top hospital and medical school in the country, Johns Hopkins, are right here in my hometown of Baltimore. But if you’re in one of those states that we may think are in the middle of nowhere (like, aw, I won’t insult anyone – you know who you are), you are probably saying, “Well of course you need good hospitals. That’s because if you walk two blocks in any direction from Hopkins you’ll probably get shot or mugged. Out here with the fresh air and low crime rates, we don’t need trauma centers!” And maybe you’re right.

But I still don’t see why North Dakota should have the same amount of senators as New York. And since senators are supposed to represent their population, this theoretically makes a citizen of Vermont (many of whom spend all day stoned listening to bootleg recordings of Phish concerts) much more powerful than citizens of Florida, where if age truly does equal wisdom, they should be more important that the entire European Union.

So what does it all mean? Hell if I know. But since I don’t like whining, I may just pull up my roots and move to Louisiana, which as the 25th most populous state has total parity when it comes to senatorial power. Plus, they have great music and food there!

But here’s the lesson. If your goal in life is to be a U.S. Senator, besides the fact that you should immediately seek some serious psychiatric treatment, you may want to consider moving to Montana, Delaware, Alaska, Vermont, Wyoming, or one of those crazy Dakotas. Not only will you save on campaign spending, you’ll be a lot more powerful.

See you soon! And be sure to visit www.isyourfrogboiling.com to take the “Froggy Quiz!”

Rich

For just forty-one cents you can write a personalized letter or card in Hawaii, slip it into a box on the street any time day or night, have it processed, sorted and hand delivered right to the door of someone who lives on the East Coast of the United States, some 5000 miles away. This has got to be the greatest bargain on the face of the Earth bar none. Forty one cents!

Accolades and Academy Awards notwithstanding, Sean Penn’s portrayal of Jeff Spicoli in “Fast Times At Ridgemont High” has got to be the greatest acting job of all time.

Some disposable razors seem to last a lifetime, while others tear your face to shreds after just a few days. Can anyone explain this phenomenon?

If you can’t stand rap or hip-hop music, remember that a previous generation couldn’t stand Elvis and The Beatles, and actually thought that they were dangerous to our precious youth. Rock music is supposed to alienate those who don’t understand it. To some music fans today, Jay-Z and Dr. Dre are every bit as important as Bob Dylan and John Lennon.

Bananas have one perfect day between being too green and too rotten. Grab them on that day and eat as many as possible.

Everyone thinks they are an above average driver. Ask a room of 100 people how many are above average drivers and 95 hands will go up. How is that possible?

Tea is so much better when made with water boiled in a kettle than heated in a microwave. But the water is still water, and it is the same temperature. What’s up with that? How does it know?

Mom jeans. What’s the point?

HBO has totally changed the landscape of television. It used to be the lowest form of entertainment. But hey - Six Feet Under, Entourage, Curb Your Enthusiasm, etc. Wow – really great stuff. It’s still a waste of time though.

Why is it that if a kid is really bad in school they get suspended? Isn’t that a reward? Do you get suspended for playing hooky? That would be the ultimate dumb punishment.

I accidentally left my cell phone in the “on” position during a long flight last week. The plane didn’t seem to be affected.

What would happen if during a traffic jam on the highway everybody just sped up?

Okay – I just have two quick questions. Well, they may not be all that quick, but I’ll try to stay brief.

Question # 1)

You know those Goth / Punker types with tons of tattoos, blue hair, piercings everywhere, spiked collars, ripped tank tops to reveal as much of this as possible, and beards waxed to a sharp point? And that’s just the girls – the guys are even worse!

Okay – I’m all for freedom of expression, so no problem there. But why is it that when you pass one of them on the street and stare at them, they glare back and scream at you, “Hey – what the hell are you looking at?”

What do you think I’m looking at? If you don’t want people to stare at you, don’t walk around looking like a sideshow!!

Just what exactly is up with this? Okay – that is question number one.

Question # 2)

I went to a baseball game in Baltimore a few nights ago, and as expected, many people in the crowd were wearing Orioles jerseys with names on the back. (And yes – The Orioles still suck.) Same thing at The Ravens games – most of the crowd is dressed in Ravens jerseys, or at least the team colors.

Do these people in the jerseys think that it’s possible there will be a last minute injury and they’ll be called in to play? I’ve never really seen this happen. Even stranger (or perhaps not) - fans at a tennis match often wear tennis clothes or warm-up outfits. I mean really – what are you trying to do here? They are NOT going to invite you to play against Andy Roddick at the last minute, and if they did, he would kick your ass. You wouldn’t even see the serve let alone return it. So leave the tennis clothes at home.

How much further will this trend go? Should I start bringing my guitar to a concert in case one of the guys in the band slams his hand in a car trunk and can’t play anymore?

How would you feel if you walked into a dental office and everyone in the waiting room was wearing a smock, mask, gloves and had little replicas of dental tools? This is just weird. Fortunately you don’t see customers of McDonalds dressing like Mayor McCheese and The Hamburglar, but if the trend continues, it could happen.

Okay – just wondering aloud. Please let me know if you have the answers to these two very important questions. But for now, I gotta go. I have an appointment to take my car to the mechanic and seemed to have misplaced my coveralls with the name “Mack” on the front.

See you soon-
Rich