"Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer!" May the Ghost of Christmas Past ("Long past?" "No, your past.") remind you of happinesses that are no more but still linger in memory. May the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come, ever mutable, reveal shadows of pleasures still to come. May the Ghost of Christmas Present see naught but cheer in your home and in your heart this sunny day -- and may those two frightful children who clutch at him, Want and Ignorance, diminish their presence in this world.

"And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:" Bill-the-Honeybear. Penny. Kathe and Neal and Alex. Nancy and Larry. Paul. Sherri. Charlie. Steve. Gordon. Mike and Lou and the Queen City Rollers. Skip and Alan. TJ and Jon. Kevin. Mindy. Marianne and Bob. Just the short list of my Christmas Presents who expand my life by being in it, and who for some improbable reason let me be in their lives.

Irwin, my first love. Mom and Dad. Martha. Andrea. Diane. Wendy. Grandma Baker. Grandma and Grandpa Neuner. Ralph. My Christmas Pasts who brought such joy to my life, and who still live in memory.

Sing a song of gladness and cheer
For the time of Christmas is here!
Look around about you and see
What a world of wonders this world can be!
Sing a Christmas carol, sing a Christmas carol,
Sing a Christmas carol like the children do!
And enjoy the beauty, all the joy and beauty
That a merry Christmas can bring to you!

"Pacific Overtures" is strikingly beautiful and on several levels disturbing -- but it's a Sondheim musical, so that's not saying anything new. The story is that of Commodore Perry's visit to Japan, which ended over two centuries of isolation and brought Japan -- forcefully -- into the modern world, and the changes made to Japan by that visit (displayed in the interlocking stories of a minor Japanese official who becomes Westernized and a fisherman who lived briefly in America and re-embraces the feudal ways). The backstory is that this is a Japanese creative team's (librettist and composer) attempt at fashioning a Broadway-like musical about an event in their country's history.

The current production (running through January) has been staged by Amon Miyamoto, who is himself Japanese and who staged a Japanese-language version of the show last summer at Lincoln Center. The result is visually stunning, although several plot holes remain in John Weidman's script.

This production, like the original Broadway production, employs a mostly-Asian cast. Major difference: in the original production, men played the women's parts in traditional Japanese dramatic style until the last number when women joined the cast; in this production, some female characters are played by women, others (usually the comic ones) are played by men. I prefer the new production in this regard.

Another similarity between the original production and this one is the problem of hearing Sondheim's lyrics -- the most clever on Broadway -- because of either the speed of the music or the inevitable mushiness that goes with chorus numbers. In one number, "Please Hello", you can with little loss stop trying so hard to hear the lyrics and enjoy the comedy of five cartoonish foreign ambassadors alternately confusing and terrorizing the hapless Shogun. But the other number is the climactic "Next!", which in one number represents 150 years of Japanese progress, the pupil learning all too well from its foreign teachers. Here the picture is of grimly proud citizens dressed all in black-with-studs -- sort of Japanese punk -- and the image (as Bill-the-Honeybear pointed out to me) is a subtle insult to the Japanese who gained progress at the cost of giving up their heritage and soul. But you can't hear what they're saying. (I wonder if that's not intentional as well?)

Overall, though, this is an excellent show. I recommend you get seats in the front mezzanine -- the Roundabout Theatre Company is presenting this show at Studio 54, and they have (I think) unwisely left the orchestra section in the tables-and-chairs setup used to stunning effect in their production of Cabaret. Also note that evening performances start at 7:00, an hour ahead of traditional Broadway show starting time, with the resulting effects on travel and dinner times. Mezzanine and balcony seats are large and comfortable, as they are in so many newer theatres -- a plus when you're plus-sized like me.

Minor nit: The Roundabout Theatre Company bought Studio 54 this past year. If there was ever a theatre that could stand to be renamed to reflect Broadway history, this one is it. So why don't they? My guess: They couldn't find a corporation or an individual with enough dough to pay to have the name changed. Feh.

The Advantages of Floating in the Middle of the Sea. A lovely title, and of the very first song in Stephen Sondheim's Pacific Overtures -- which Bill-the-Honeybear and I will be seeing tonight. Of course, this means we have to be at the theatre by 7:00 when the show starts (not 8:00 like most other shows). I'm hoping that three hours will be enough time to get from the house to the theatre by car in light rain. I saw the original Broadway production, so I'm very interested in seeing how an Asian director interprets this work. Bill is a Sondheim fan, so I'm betting he'll be in rapturous awe for the evening.

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And soft and sweet the words repeat
Of "peace on earth, good will to men".

And now I thought the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Would toll along the unbroken song
Of "peace on earth, good will to men".

And in despair I bowed my head.
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of 'peace on earth, good will to men'."

Then tolled the bells more strong and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men!"

Well, it's time. After avoiding buying almost anything (well, something for the nephew-by-friendship the last time I was in Florida), tonight's the night. I'm taking the plunge and going (gasp!) Christmas shopping. But I think I've got a workable plan. First, I go home from work and get the credit cards I'll need (I'm reserving three of them just for shopping purposes). Then I go to the local mall, Bridgewater Commons, and hit Eddie Bauer and Williams-Sonoma for gift cards, and Yankee Candle for small gifts. Then I head for Highland Park and meet Bill-the-Honeybear at Bloom's, a great store with lots of little (and some not-so-little) unique items for gift-giving. After that, dinner, probably at Charlie Brown's. Then home. Wrapping can wait until the 24th.

Then there's tomorrow. For a few people, I'll be getting gift cards for Barnes & Noble. The only reason I'm not doing it tonight is that going to B&N takes me in the opposite direction from all the other stores. But I can hit it tomorrow, between the chiropractor and bowling.

The power of the press. I've been asked if I would be interested in being the editor of the newsletter for a group I belong to. I've got quite a few questions about how the operation runs, and they have to be answered first before I decide. But I've been looking over the newsletter and thinking about ways to make it a more interesting read -- not in terms of graphics per se but in terms of content. Both need to be addressed, but I think for now improving content takes precedence over improving layout. Anyway, I'll have a chance to get my answers and put forth some of my ideas before the end of the year. All I have to do for now is suppress the rising excitement -- this is something I really want to do.

I don't usually go to comedy clubs. Not because I don't like stand-up comedy or improv -- I do, and there are many good and some great stand-up comics out there. (I did stand-up once at the San Francisco Improv...but that's a story for another time.) And Bill-the-Honeybear and I spent one fine evening at the Toronto branch of The Second City. But I don't normally seek out entertainment at comedy clubs.

But Bill-the-Honeybear got free admission to The Stress Factory, the comedy club in downtown New Brunswick, so last night off we went. The place serves food, which was all right but not whoopie-wow. The comedians were, shall we say, uneven -- of the three we saw, each had good spots in his act, but not consistently good acts. So it would have been an OK, average experience.

Except for the audience. Not all the audience, mind you -- most of them, like us, were interested in hearing what the comics had to say, and there was some good comic-audience interaction. But seated behind us was a group of around 20-25 people, all of whom worked for the local branch of the New York Health Club. Apparently they thought they were at home, watching Comedy Central, because each of the comics (and the emcee) had to ask them to keep quiet multiple times during the evening. It wasn't that they were talking, or talking constantly; it was that they were TALKING LOUDLY AND CONSTANTLY as though it was their God-given right to be disruptive drunks who would have probably had a better time at a private orgy, had it not been that this was some sort of company holiday event.

Cell phones going off during a show are an annoyance, but at least the people with the phones make the pretense of being embarrassed. These people had no embarrassment in them at all. If I had been the club manager, I would have thrown them out and instructed the reservation staff to refuse any future requests from NYHC to hold events there. The comics were all used to handling unruly audience members (although not, I'd bet, in such large numbers). This audience member was not used to handling them.

This had been my first visit to The Stress Factory. It was also my last, for a good long time.

An update on that election stuff that I posted a little while ago: My colleague on the election committee and I revised our election procedures. The election was held yesterday without major muss, fuss, or bother. Only one ballot was needed -- we had expected more, since there were three candidates for president and the winner needed a majority of votes. It's all over now. Life as we know it may now resume.

At least the one ballot election meant that my birthday wish came true -- my birthday being yesterday. (53, thank you, and feeling fine.)

Stuff I've learned this year (#348 in a series, collect them all): Writing out your hurt, your frustration, or your anger really does help get the poison out of your system.

The most wonderful time of the year: I generally try to take the last week of the year -- the one between Christmas and New Year's Day -- off. Often, I try to see as much theatre (as in Broadway) during this time as I can. (The days available run from Thursday, December 23rd through Sunday, January 2.) Right now, I'm trying to figure out which shows I really want to see, when I want to see them, hunt for discount tickets (both Playbill.com and TheaterMania.com have them -- you have to join to gain access, but the joining is free), check with Bill-the-Honeybear on which ones he'd like to see too. This is the type of planning I wouldn't mind doing more of. (On my like-to-see list so far: Twelve Angry Men, Gem of the Ocean, La Cage aux Folles, Hairspray, Pacific Overtures, and Rent (second time for me, first time for Bill). I wouldn't mind seeing Mamma Mia! or Wonderful Town (again) or Avenue Q (again) either.)

Thank you for not reading the previous post. I feel better now, as I usually do as the day goes by. Sunlight helps, as does food. Keeping busy so that I don't dwell on myself is also a plus. Bill-the-Honeybear loves me, as does my sister Penny and my nephew-by-friendship Alex. I have a small group of close friends and an army of acquaintances, buddies, colleagues, and pals. I have had great love in my past, particularly from my mother and father and my first (late) lover.

All I have to do is remember all of this when the small voice in my head starts telling me otherwise.

The Slough of Despond. This post is particularly ugly, and very difficult to write. I would suggest to everyone that they avoid reading it as though it were Medusa trying to stare them in the face.

Since I turned 50, three years ago, I have been experiencing more and more often the belief that I am, essentially, a useless person. The lives I touch are not better, and sometimes worse, for my being there. I make no difference to anyone. My actions make no difference to anyone. I serve no purpose. Were I to disappear tomorrow, it would not be noticed.

I don't know how I've gotten here. Other milestone birthdays have come and gone, and they've been just other December 13ths, neither regretted nor celebrated. But the 50th birthday was somehow different, and why this should be I have no idea.

I didn't want my life to be like this. I didn't want to be the sole support of my household. I didn't want to be in a job where I exist by means of year-to-year contracts. I didn't want to feel as though all I was good for was giving. Above all, I didn't want to feel as though wanting anything was futile, because I couldn't ever expect to get what I wanted or to have things turn out as I wanted them to. I don't want to feel like I have to live as though I was poor, or 19 again, or both. I don't want to feel that my magic has gone, possibly forever.

And yet I can't help but want. I want a house where I don't have to worry about taking care of the disrepair left by I-don't-know-how-many previous owners. I want a house where I don't have to walk around stacks of boxes and crates filled with unused things and old mouldering papers. I want a house with space and light, both of which I crave as an addict craves his fix. I want to be able to invite people into my home without feeling ashamed of the way it looks. I want to share my life with a partner, not a dependant. I want to live with someone who has a job and earns an income and shares the expenses of our home with me. I want to believe that I am a good man who is wanted and appreciated for what he has to offer, and for doing what he feels he has to do. I want to have my ailings and failings acknowledged and not used as the start of a comparison with those of other people. I want my emotions acknowledged as mine, to express when and how I see fit, and not seen as something wrong with me that people need to fix, or worse, something that has to be turned into a learning experience on the proper time and way to express my emotions.

But I won't get any of that. I put it out into the universe, and the response is silence. I can't make those around me change, or motivate them to want to change. Even when given the chance to express any of this, I'm blocked by considering what effect my words might have on other people's feelings, and blocked again by trying to choose the clearest words to express myself. It's easier to scream and rant when alone in my car. Worst of all, I'm blocked by the thought that I have led a charmed life, one of amazing privilege that many people cannot even aspire to, and therefore have no right to complain about or want any of these things.

It's not going to change. I don't expect it to, because I know it's not going to happen, and expectation will only bring disappointment and more sadness. I can't have and I can't hope. All that's left me is the maintenance of the external me, the role I once chose and am now assigned, the coping and protection that doesn't work as it once did.

And if you wonder: no, suicide is not and never will be an option.

I did some blog re-reading this evening, and I see I didn't say anything about my colonoscopy, which was done on Thursday. So here it is.

First, the preparation, which starts the day before. Since the procedure is being done at 9:30 a.m. Thursday, I have to stop eating solid food at 10:00 a.m. Wednesday. Only clear liquids after that -- coffee and tea (no sweetener or milk), clear broth, water, clear fruit juices (orange doesn't count), soda. Jell-O is allowed, provided it isn't red (which shows up during the procedure looking like blood) or green (which looks like feces). So, lots of yellow Jell-O, which Bill-the-Honeybear prepared for me earlier in the day. And only half-doses of my medications. I decided to take Wednesday afternoon off work, so I could lie around doing nothing. No bowling that night, either.

Thursday morning at 3:00 a.m. is when I have to stop taking anything by mouth -- no water, no medications, nothing. We get to the center in Hillsborough where the procedure will be done around 8:30 a.m. and they start prepping me around 9:00. First, off with all the clothes except my socks, and on with one of those lovely backless hospital gowns. Then onto a stretcher/bed, where a nurse and the anesthesiologist go through my medical history and tell me what's going to be going on. The anesthesiologist puts an IV line into my left hand and the nurse starts a saline drip. I'm hooked up to the standard monitors (blood pressure, respiration, oxygen level, heartbeat). Then they wheel me into the operating room.

More nurses, an anesthesiologist's assistant, and the doctor who will be performing the procedure. It's relatively simple, really -- they stick a TV camera up into my colon, snapping pictures and looking for anything out of place. If they find something like a polyp or an abnormal growth, they'll take a sample for further testing. The assistant helps get me on my left side, positions my arms and tubing and wires, and injects a liquid into my IV line to knock me out during the proce......

When I come to, it's around 11:00. I'm unhooked from the monitors after a few more checks, especially of my blood pressure. The IV is removed and a gauze pad taped over the site. I'm given my clothes and the curtains are drawn while I get dressed. Then it's out to the reception area, where Bill-the-Honeybear has been waiting all this time. He drives me to our usual Sunday morning diner (Felix #9, on Route 22) for my first solid food in over 24 hours, then takes me home.

They did find a polyp -- just one -- and removed it for testing. I have to schedule an appointment with the doctor for a month from now, and they'll call me in about a week with the results of the test on the polyp. I don't know why I was so worried about this procedure -- I postponed it twice and was really anxious right up until late Wednesday night -- since it was so relatively easy and painless. Oh, yes -- I get to do it all over again in three years.

I was told once, long ago, that the political battles in organizations where the officers had so little real-world power were the fiercest. Consequently, you'd think I wouldn't get involved in such battles. You'd be wrong.

There's a gay group I belong to which will be holding elections for officers soon. I volunteered to be on the election committee (there are two of us on the committee). The committee, according to the group's bylaws, is charged with running the election, preparing the ballots, receiving nominations -- the usual stuff involved. Most years, this job is a no-brainer, since there's usually only one person running for each office.

This year, there are three candidates for president, and two for one of the two vice-president seats. Normally, this is a healthy sign -- more candidates means more people with an interest in how the group is run. The flip side to this is that those who expected to run for office with no opposition now find themselves facing a campaign in which they might lose. And when three of the candidates mentioned above are also current members of the group's board, there's a potential for, shall we say, wanting to make sure the election is under control.

The election committee has found itself in a struggle with the board over election procedures -- those things that say just when and how the election will take place. The board feels that, in the absence of procedures in the bylaws, they must approve the procedures created by the election committee, making sure they conform to the bylaws and Robert's Rules of Order. Not a bad idea in and of itself -- except (1) the parliamentarian (the officer charged with interpreting the bylaws and Robert's Rules) is a candidate for office, and (2) the president (the officer upon whose request the parliamentarian does his work) is a candidate for office. The result is that some (but not all) of the candidates think they will be writing the rules for the election.

The election committee came up with a set of procedures and sent them to the board for comment -- but not approval. The board, through the president, sent back a set of comments. While the committee was working with the comments to alter the procedures, the president asked the parliamentarian to compare the procedures to Robert's Rules and list all discrepancies -- which he did, in a four-page report that failed to take into consideration (1) the bylaws (which trump Robert's Rules), and (2) items that did not fall under either the bylaws or Robert's Rules.

The election committee now has to decide what to do. The election is one week from tomorrow. Stay tuned...

My goodness. Or, put another way, terms that describe types of goodness. It was a topic of conversation with Bill-the-Honeybear yesterday during a coffee break amidst rounds of Saturday errands. My overly fertile mind came up with two types of goodness: lemony musical comedy goodness, which describes sensual pleasure (that is, pleasure gotten through the senses); and honey beary goodness, which describes pleasure derived from one's partner. Both of them describe pinnacles of goodness -- which I guess in this case should really be called bestness.

Something different with Christmas cards this year: Instead of purchasing new boxes of holiday cards (which means, with the different religious/holiday traditions of my friends, finding something that doesn't either look or sound Christmassy) or digging through the boxes looking for leftovers from prior years, I indulged myself. In New York, I bought two boxes of Playbill note cards -- blank inside, with the outside showing a scene from a Playbill of the 1920s or 1930s (on the front) and giving information about the show and the theatre (on the back). Then I wrote a simple "happy holidays and happy new year" message inside, signed them, sealed them, and stamped them. They'll certainly stand out in anyone's collection of cards this year -- and for those who know my love of theatre, they'll be cards that are unmistakeably Allen's.

I love the theatre. I love watching living, breathing actors perform on a brightly-lit stage to about 1,000 people sitting in a darkened auditorium. I love curtains going up, overtures, curtain calls. I love drama, comedy, and "the two most glorious words in the English language," musical comedy.

But, odd as it may sound, I love the physical structures called theatres, and none more so than the thirty-nine theatres clustered mostly from 41st Street to 54th Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues known as "Broadway theatres". (There will be a fortieth theatre in about two years when construction is finished around Henry Miller's Theatre on 43rd Street.)

Even the names of theatres ring with history: Helen Hayes; Al Hirschfeld, the caricaturist; Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne; Ethel Barrymore; critics Brooks Atkinson and Walter Kerr; impresarios Sam Shubert and David Nederlander and David Belasco; Eugene O'Neill and Neil Simon; Richard Rodgers. The Palace, the grand dame of vaudeville. The New Amsterdam, "the House Beautiful", home of the legendary Ziegfeld Follies. When theatres are renamed, as sometimes they are, usually it's to honor someone of importance (Kerr and Rodgers are the most recent of this crop).

But there is the harsh commercial world to consider. Two of the restored 42nd Street theatres, the Selwyn and the Lyric, were renamed when they were refurbished in honor of corporate sponsors -- American Airlines and Ford, respectively (although the name "Ford Center for the Performing Arts" doesn't ring too falsely in the ear). And the venerable Winter Garden, home for too many years to "Cats", had a carmaker's name attached to it, becoming the Cadillac Winter Garden.

Now, the Ford Center is being renamed by its new owners (Clear Channel Communications) the Hilton Theatre. This, even though the 42nd Street Hilton recently announced plans to turn the old Liberty Theatre next door into a performance space. This is revolving door naming, all for the sake of a corporate sponsor's dollar. Even worse, two of the 45th Street theatres owned by the Shubert Organization -- the Plymouth and the Royale -- are going to be renamed, respectively, for those great theatrical names...Gerald Schoenfeld and Bernard Jacobs.

Who?

Schoenfeld is currently the chairman of the Shubert Organization. Jacobs was its president until his passing in 1996. Not that I have anything against either man -- after all, they kept the Shubert houses lit and in good repair through some hard decades for the theatre. And God knows their flagship theatre, the Shubert, is named after Sam S. Shubert, founder of the empire. But still...Sam's two brothers, Lee and J.J., for all their enormous egos, never dreamed of naming one of their Broadway houses after themselves. (They revered their older brother, who had the dream and the drive and died too young in a railroad accident.)

There are many people, living and dead, who could lay claim to the name of a Broadway theatre. Julie Harris. Stephen Sondheim. Oscar Hammerstein. Tennessee Williams. Ethel Merman. David Merrick. The list is seemingly endless. But Schoenfeld and Jacobs? Those are names, like John Cort and George Broadhurst, which will become lost in time and forgotten. Shame on the Shubert Organization for renaming these theatres. And shame on Gerald Schoenfeld, who for so long refused to rename any Shubert house, for agreeing to do this now.

Good news, and somewhat unexpected. The US Supreme Court refused to rule unconstitutional the decision of the Massachusetts Supreme Court regarding gay marriage. The argument used by the anti-gay plaintiffs was that the US Constitution guarantees to the states a republican form of government (notice that's "little-R republican"), and that the Massachusetts court violated that guarantee by saying that gay marriage couldn't be blocked by the state, based on the Massachusetts constitution. The US Supreme Court said, in effect, "Don't make a federal case out of this." It's still possible that the people of Massachusetts may decide to amend their constitution to prohibit gay marriage, but that can't happen until 2006 at the earliest...by which time married gay couples will have been around for about 2 1/2 years, so people will have had about 2 1/2 years to see that the institution of marriage didn't crumble into dust.

Good news, and also unexpected. In South Africa, their next-to-highest court ruled that under their constitution gay couples could not be barred from marriage, provided they met the requirements of already-passed federal marriage laws. The decision (a 4-1 vote) was delivered by an openly gay, openly HIV+ justice. It could still be overturned by the Constitutional Court, but court-watchers in South Africa think that's highly unlikely.

Check it out, railfans. I just added to my "favorites" list the link to The Monorail Society, a group dedicated to the adoption of monorails (as opposed to light rail) to ease urban traffic. They update their news site frequently (at least weekly), plus have a good selection of background info on monorails and pictures/articles on existing monorails worldwide -- the latest news story is about the initial passenger-bearing test runs of the new Moscow monorail! Plus, the site is free -- in fact, joining TMS is free as well.

Wow! Lots of bloggy goodness! At least, I hope you think so. I've been blogging more because it's a holiday weekend so I've had more free time than usual to post on here.

Theatre wrap-up: Today was my last volunteer stint (at least, this time around) for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Since I didn't tell you about yesterday, you get two days worth in one post.

Saturday night, I drove in and worked at two shows. First up was Movin' Out, which I've worked at before. This time I was stationed at the side exit, so I got a lot of people very quickly after the show ended -- and a lot of money in the bucket, too. Then it was over to Wonderful Town which currently stars Brooke Shields. I got to see the last two numbers, and from what I saw (plus her appearance at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade) it looks like she's handling herself just fine. She doesn't have a great voice, but then again neither did the original Rosalind Russell (back in the 50's). The score was tailored around Russell's vocal limitations, so Shields' limited alto range can handle it just fine. The surprise is that Shields will do physical comedy and pull it off. Plus the audiences love her -- after the show they did an on-stage auction of her earrings and raised $2500! I was able to use that in my patter to get people to smile -- and put money in the bucket.

Today I was supposed to do three shows. For the first, Beauty and the Beast, there was a snafu -- I was told to report to the theatre for 4:25, but the show started at 3:00 rather than at 2:00 -- somebody at BC/EFA forgot that Sunday matinees traditionally start at the later hour, so they were just getting to the intermission when I arrived. I couldn't stay because of the other two shows, but there were other volunteers there for the wrong time, so there would be some coverage. Next up was Dracula, the Musical. For this one, I was put at the doors leading from the main lobby to the street. However, they put another collector at the doors leading from the theatre auditorium to the main lobby, so he got all the money (although some generous soul dropped a quarter in my bucket.) Finally it was off to The Producers, where I had a better location and got some laughs by promising that not one dollar of donations went to Bialystock and Bloom (the crooked producers in the show).

I also took the train in today, which I like doing when it's a matinee. I have two options, train-wise. I can choose to take the train all the way into New York (after changing trains in Newark -- my line, the Raritan Valley Line, does not go into the city). Or I can choose to take the train to Newark, then switch to the PATH train to 33rd Street (after changing PATH trains at Journal Square in Jersey City.) Either way, it takes between an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half; still, it gives me a chance to get some reading done.

What I'm reading right now is a book entitled Times Square Roulette, all about the four decades of planning and deal-making involved in developing the block of 42nd Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues (with some surrounding property included). It's a slog so far -- it reads like a textbook -- and trying to keep all the entities and personalities straight is a bit of a chore. Still, I'm getting an understanding of the complexity of a public/private development deal like this -- and for a deal of this size, all the parties were learning as they went along. I can even understand why, of the nine legitimate theatres on the block, only four have survived as theatres today. (I don't like it, but I can understand it.)

What I've been listening to lately on the car CD player is Enjoy Every Sandwich, a collection of songs by various artists, all written by the late Warren Zevon. I can't say I've ever been a fan of Zevon's work, or even followed him closely. But I'm finding many of these songs interesting enough for second and third listenings. Of course, to balance that out, I'm playing The Simpsons: Songs in the Key of Springfield, a 30+ track compilation of songs from the show (including the songs from Streetcar!, the musical version of A Streetcar Named Desire that was put on with Marge as Blanche DuBois and Ned Flanders as Stanley Kowalski.)

Saturday morning I got fitted for my new CPAP machine. For those who don't know, I have sleep apnea, a condition where I stop breathing for periods during sleep. Left untreated it can cause heart failure. The machine (CPAP stands for "continuous positive air pressure") feeds air through my nose at just enough pressure to keep the airways open during the night, which means I can have uninterrupted sleep. The new machine was something I wanted since my old machine was over ten years old (it still works, but there have been advances in the technology), but to get it I had to be retested for the apnea. What surprised/pleased the doctor was that I could function at roughly half the pressure prescribed when I was first tested. Anyway, the new machine is quieter, and it comes with a heated humidifier (which eliminates dry mouth, hooray!), so I'm pleased.

Coming up this week is my long-delayed colonoscopy on Thursday morning. The less said about that, and how I have to prepare for it, the better.

We went shopping yesterday -- so sue me. Bill-the-Honeybear had been reading a flyer from Kohl's and spotted a real deal on a coffee maker (Black & Decker, with a thermal carafe). The catch was, the real deal was only good from 5:30 a.m. to noon on 11/26 -- the day after Thanksgiving, aka "Black Friday", aka the busiest shopping day of the year. So off we trundled to Kohl's. (What sweetened the pot for me was a sale on electric shavers, since my old one was in need of daily recharging.)

First miracle: finding a parking space as soon as we arrived. No, not right close up to the front door, but not out in the Himalayas either. Second miracle: no mobs of screaming shoppers fighting to the death over the last of something. In fact, no last-of-somethings that were readily apparent. Third miracle: honest to God helpful sales staff who actually led us to the items we wanted -- twice. Fourth miracle: the "oh my God" length lines waiting to check out actually moved fast. This was due to there being two sets of eight registers (the "men's" and the "women's", named for which clothing section they were near), all of them staffed by two-person teams of checker and bagger, and a store manager at each set directing people to the next available register. The bottom line: In and out in less than an hour.

Volunteering report. Yesterday I worked the matinee performance of Mamma Mia! (my second time there). Aside from the stage manager, I was the only BC/EFA volunteer there! So we both worked the "pictures with cast members" concession -- he took the Polaroids, I collected the money. What was special this time was that all three female leads -- Judy McKaye, Liz McCartney, and the fabulous Carolee Carmello -- volunteered to be the cast members having pictures taken. After about a half hour of pictures (everything from the shy little girl from Ireland to the 11-member family), and with all the audience members who wanted pictures gone, I put my own $20 into the bucket and got my picture taken with "Donna and the Dynamos" -- and was thanked by all three for helping out. I don't mind volunteering -- I only wish the reason we're doing the collections was no longer around.

Playing the market. Yes, I am a proud capitalist pig -- I own stock in 21 companies. My investing strategies are simple, so for those of you thinking of taking the plunge, this is what I do:

1. Look for companies whose products you use. Check out your pantries, your garage, your basement. And don't forget the companies you (and your close family members) work for.

2. Limit yourself to amounts you feel comfortable with. My personal rule (which you need not follow) is never to invest more than $5,000 in any one company at any one time, and never buy more than 100 shares in any one company.

3. Know when to get out. Pick a point where, if the stock price reaches that point, you sell. My own personal rule is, sell the stock if the price hits half of what you paid for it (the limit-your-loss point) or if it splits and you now own over 100 shares. That latter part is what generates part of the money I use for future stock purchases. With this rule, you don't have to watch the markets obsessively during the day, and you don't panic if a stock price dips below your original purchase price.

4. Be able to wave goodbye. Everyone has a reason why they invest. I've used stock sales to buy cars and make the down payment on my house. When the time comes that you need to use the money, don't sit there and think "if I hold this one more day I'll have that much more money". Stocks go down as well as up. You have a use for the money today -- so sell today.

Now, you may ask, what does the laird of Toad Hall own? In no particular order (and see if you can guess why I own these stocks), they are: Automatic Data Processing; Aetna; Bank of America; Vermont Teddy Bear; Barnes & Noble; Church & Dwight; Colgate-Palmolive; Cadbury Schweppes; Cablevision; Disney; Deluxe Printing; Friendly's Ice Cream; General Electric; Georgia-Pacific; Johnson & Johnson; Kellogg; PepsiCo; Procter & Gamble; Royal Dutch Petroleum; Time Warner; and Yankee Candle.

And a very happy Thanksgiving to all. Me, I got to celebrate Turkey Day three times this year. First was when Bill-the-Honeybear and I were up in Toronto -- Canadian Thanksgiving was October 11, so on our last night in the city we had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner: turkey; mashed potatoes; stuffing; etc. Second was this past Monday at the Gay Activists Alliance in Morris County (or GAAMC), when they held their traditional Thanksgiving social. It was a pot luck -- members brought turkey, side dishes, and desserts (GAAMC provided the beverages). Finally, today we shared dinner with some of our Mensa friends up in north NJ. One can never have enough turkey -- or enough people to share it with. No, not people -- family.

Busy weekend ahead. Tomorrow, I get fitted for my new CPAP machine (I use it when I sleep, to combat the effects of sleep apnea). Then Bill-the-Honeybear and I go out looking for a new coffee maker and a new smoke alarm. I'm also collecting for BC/EFA around 4:30 at the show Mamma Mia! Saturday night I'm doing two shows for BC/EFA (Movin' Out and Wonderful Town), while Sunday afternoon I'm doing three shows -- Beauty and the Beast, Dracula, and The Producers.

I refuse to think about Christmas shopping on Thanksgiving day -- or even the day after. So I won't. In fact, I'm extending this through the rest of November. Take that, retail giants who had the Christmas decorations up before Hallowe'en!

Department of Corrections: In an earlier post, I said that the original TV production of Cinderella would be shown on my birthday, December 13. I recently got my viewer's guide for WNET (that's channel 13 in the NYC area) which said the production will be shown December 5. As far as I'm concerned, it's like getting a birthday present in the mail just a little early. (Yes, I think this is a good thing.)

So how was my day yesterday? Just fine, thank you. Bill-the-Honeybear and I headed into The City yesterday with what is for me a very loose agenda. In order: (1) see the new Spanish film Bearcub at the Angelika Theatre down on Houston Street; (2) try to get into the free opening day at the Museum of Modern Art; (3) have dinner; (4) work for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids at Avenue Q; (5) work for BC/EFA at Wicked; (6) go home.

Bearcub is one of those films that everyone should see. Amazing for a nominally Catholic country like Spain, the film takes homosexuality so matter-of-factly that it just doesn't exist as an issue. Basically, it's a bonding movie -- a gay dentist living in Madrid agrees to take care of his 11-year-old nephew for two weeks while momma and her current boyfriend travel to India. But momma gets busted for drugs and thrown in the Indian slammer -- which means uncle and nephew will have to be together longer than either one had planned. Toss in momma's mother-in-law and uncle's circle of friends (mostly humpy bears, but including the landlady's teenage daughter) and you can probably write the basic plot in your sleep. But...the film treats all its characters as full and flawed and trying-their-best human beings, lifting what might be another trite plot into an unexpectedly touching movie. Right now, it's only playing at one theatre in New York. If you have an "art film" theatre near you, bug them until they schedule a run. It was well worth the inflated NYC ticket price.

MOMA? Fahgeddaboutit. Something free going on in New York? Already an expected crowd. Combine that with the fact that as of today MOMA admission is $20? Expected becomes guaranteed. Foolish me, I thought that by going later in the day (like 6 pm; MOMA was open yesterday from 10 am to 10 pm) the lines might be more reasonable. Forget that! So we did not attend opening day at the newly renovated MOMA. (Nor will we buy the inevitable snob-appeal t-shirt that says we did attend.)

Dinner was at a deli on 7th Avenue up around 52nd Street. The less said, the better. Not bad food, not bad service, not bad decor. Just nothing really good about it.

Next stop: Broadway! Or, to be specific, the Royale Theatre, where Avenue Q is playing. We went in the stage door and up to a small office where we could watch part of the show while listening to the stage manager reading off the light cues. Then we were taken to the mezzanine lobby. Bill got to stand at the left staircase with a bucket. I was selling souvenirs -- autographed posters, Christmas CDs, pins, and "Lucy" necklaces (as worn by one of the show's characters, puppet bombshell Lucy T. Slut). The posters were the big sellers last night, the most popular being one with the character Trekkie Monster on it (the other posters featured Rod, Lucy, and Kate Monster).

Then the hundred-yard dash to the Gershwin Theatre, home to Wicked. This time we were in the main lobby with collection buckets. Not a lot of action here -- mainly because cast members were working the upper lobbies (in costume and makeup) selling their own souvenirs. Still, the relative respite made up for the really quick walk from 45th Street to 51st Street.

Our nightcap consisted of coffee and dessert at my favorite theatre district restaurant, Barrymore's on 45th Street. Then back to the car, then home. "And so to bed," as the famed diarist Samuel Pepys would say.

But wait -- there's more! Today, I'm working at the Lyceum Theatre, where Whoopi Goldberg is doing her one-woman show. That's at 4:30. I'm also working next Friday afternoon, Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon. After that, there's one more weekend of collections, followed by the "Gypsy of the Year" show where the show that raised the most money during these last five weeks is honored with an award. Maybe this year I'll go -- even though it is on Monday night.

By popular request, I am changing (slightly) the intro line of this blog, so that anyone who does a Google search on me can find their way to Toad Hall. (All right: "popular request" means Bill-the-Honeybear said "Why the hell don't you put your name somewhere in your blog so I can find you on Google?")

I don't understand some Kerry supporters. The man ran a tough campaign. He made, from what I've heard, a gracious and, I don't know, noble concession speech, along with a civilized phone call to Bush (which was received with just as much civility). He's said, in effect, "It's over," and he's now turning back to his work in the Senate (where, God knows, there's more than enough things to do). But the die-hard supporters are still fighting the election results, claiming massive voter fraud. I'll admit I've heard of irregularities all across the country, but most people (including the Democratic party) are saying that they're too small in terms of vote count to make any difference in the outcome. If the candidate is saying it's over, and the party is saying it's over, then what possible motive can there be for insisting that it's not over?

Well, there are people who voted for Kerry because they thought he would be the better man in the office at this time. There are people (and I'm one of them) who voted for Kerry because Bush's mishandling of the War on Terror has been atrocious, earning Bush removal from the office. But there are some people who voted for Kerry because they hate Bush-the-man so much that nothing will shake their belief that their candidate lost. These are the people who said (and the many more hiding in the shadows who only thought but did not say) "Anyone But Bush". These are the people who would have voted for the village idiot if he/she was the candidate of the Democratic party. And, incredibly, these are the people who are turning on Kerry for conceding the election when he did.

Is this believable? Is this rational behavior? The man in whose policies and decisions they put their trust is now the man whose decisions are those of -- oh, I don't know; just fill in the blank yourself. I can't bring myself to look at them with anything but disgust.

I wonder if these are the people the Founders thought of when they created the Electoral College.

So the Honeybear and I went to The City yesterday. We had tickets for Cinderella at the New York City Opera, with an all-star cast: Lea DeLaria and Ana Gasteyer as the stepsisters, John "Lypsinka" Epperson as the stepmother, Dick Van Patten as the King, Renee Taylor as the Queen, and Eartha Kitt as the Fairy Godmother. The leads were unknowns (except for those of you readers who are musical buffs): Sarah Uriarte Berry as Cinderella, and Christopher Siebert as the Prince. All this plus a Rodgers and Hammerstein score. How could it fail? How about, with wooden -- no, leaden performances, about 30-45 minutes of padding to fill out a two-hour time slot, and choreography that should have been more lively but instead turned into "the villagers performing for the tourists on market day". Blame from me goes directly to director/choreographer Baayork Lee, an alumna of many shows (including being in the original cast of A Chorus Line).

Fortunately, we saw Cinderella at a matinee performance. We walked downtown to the TKTS booth and got tickets for Golda's Balcony. Roughly ninety minutes, but including the entire history of Israel as seen from the point of view of its former Prime Minister, Golda Meir (the former Goldie Meyerson from Milwaukee), focusing especially on the Yom Kippur War and the desperate decisions that had to be made. The entire cast was Tovah Feldshuh, one of those actresses who, in a more just world, would be hailed for the talent she is. Not only was she Golda as young girl, new wife, emigrant to Palestine, mother, activist, and PM; she was all the members of her cabinet (including Moshe Dayan and Ariel Sharon), David Ben-Gurion, Henry Kissinger, King Abdullah of Jordan, both her parents and her husband. It was performed without intermission. That was the right choice. Golda's story, and that of her beloved country, requires your full attention without interruption until it reaches its end. Ms. Feldshuh announced from the stage that as of last month Golda's Balcony was the longest-running one-woman Broadway show in history. It should run forever. It will be closing after New Year's. Go see it.

Cinderella again. Not the stage show -- the TV show. The original, broadcast only once and never taped. But someone, thank the theatre gods, made a kinescope. It's going to be broadcast on PBS on my birthday, December 13 (at least, it will in the NYC area). Julie Andrews, fresh from My Fair Lady, is Cinderella. Ilka Chase, Kaye Ballard, and Alice Ghostley are the stepmother and stepsisters. Jon Cypher (you should recall him from the TV show Major Dad) was the Prince, with Howard Lindsay and Dorothy Stickney as the King and Queen. And, as a young and sophisticated Fairy Godmother, a young and talented Edie Adams. Kindly do not invite me to do anything for the night of my birthday -- I'm staying home with Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella. (ps.: Julie Andrews will be the announcer for the PBS broadcast.)

So, just look at us... I went to my 35-year high school reunion last night. Some faces never change, others you wouldn't recognize in a million years (thank God for name tags). I had a great time. Bill the Honeybear, wonder of wonders, had a good time too. We danced, we ate (quite a nice buffet, too), I caught up with people I hadn't seen in decades (at least three attendees hadn't been to a class reunion in over 10 years -- and it was the first for one guy). Plus it was nice to see how much the old town had changed -- and how much it hadn't. (The old town, in case anyone is wondering, is South River, New Jersey.)

In case you're wondering, the post title up there is from a Stephen Sondheim song, "Don't Look at Me", from the musical "Follies". I won't give you the full lyric, but the fragment is at the end of the song and goes: "So, just look at us/Fat, turning gray/Still playing games, acting crazy/Isn't it awful?/God, how depressing!/Me, I'm 100/You, you're a blessing/I'm so glad I came!"

After a year, closure. We went down to Florida on Tuesday to scatter the ashes of my parents and my brother-in-law. Wednesday morning, me, my sister Penny, some of her girlfriends from high school, her daughter-in-law Shayna, and assorted spouses (plus the Honeybear and Penny's current boyfriend) sat around and reminisced; Shari, one of the girlfriends, did us up a fine ham-and-egg dish, half omelette, half quiche for breakfast. Later that day, Bill, Penny, Shayna, Jim (Penny's boyfriend), and I took a boat out and scattered my mother, my father, and my brother-in-law into the water. On Thursday, we came home.

I did two good impromptu things (I think). First, the toast at Tuesday's dinner: simply, "Family". Second, the toast (using morning mimosas) after the reminiscenses: "To my mother and my father, who gave us roots and gave us wings; and to Ralph, who did the one thing I ever asked him to do: he made my sister happy."

The damn election is over. The candidate I voted for conceded defeat on Wednesday morning. Now there's reports and rumors flying all over the place about miscounted or lost votes. As I posted on a user group this past week: They'd better hurry. January 6 is when the electoral votes get counted, and unless you can change those (by recounting votes or whatever) there is no Constitutional mechanism to undo a Presidential election, no matter what you find afterward.

Was the Kerry loss due to gay marriage issues? In part, yes. I hate to say it, but the GLBT community and its allies fell down in the one arena they needed to do well in -- educating the general public about GLBT rights (and the lack thereof), especially in the so-called "red states". We also didn't point out the true meaning behind the language of several state anti-gay-marriage amendments -- that they would not only bar gay marriage, but any contractual arrangements that might copy benefits of marriage. Or, in other words: no civil unions; no powers of attorney; no living wills; no joint adoptions. Some lawyers are wondering about the fate of insurance benefits provided by employers to domestic partners. When you hear about lawsuits challenging these newly-passed anti-gay amendments, many of them are coming up due to the argument that the voting public was deliberately misled due to the explanatory language on the ballots about these amendments. (Louisiana's anti-gay amendment was struck down for just such a reason.)

But in part, no. Poll data from this election showed that in states where there was an anti-gay amendment on the ballot, the voting percentages for Bush were up only slightly (exceptions: Oklahoma and Utah, where the Bush percentages were up by 4 to 5 per cent). And there was one larger issue than GLBT rights this year: the handling of the Iraq War. It seems like "Don't change horses in mid-stream" was a deciding factor in voters' minds.

What about Congress? Well, the Republicans picked up some extra seats in both houses, retaining their majority. The balance is 55-45 in the Senate -- not a veto-proof majority (that would be 60). Plus you still do not have those 55 voting as a solid bloc -- there are still mavericks like Chaffee of Rhode Island (rumored to be planning to switch parties), Snowe of Maine, McCain of Arizona, and Specter of Pennsylvania. Over in the House, Marilyn Musgrave is back -- she's the author of the FMA -- and she's vowing to bring it back in the next session. A resounding defeat for Musgrave would have put another nail in the coffin of the FMA; but the GLBT community and its allies couldn't manage that, either.

And they're off... The race for 2008 is already underway. Many people are already naming Hillary Clinton as a strong candidate for the Democrats -- at least, she can't be attacked on her Vietnam service record. The jockeying for position started November 3.

If I ruled the elections: I would mandate the UK style of television campaigning. I would eliminate the primary elections -- let's face it, they're too much political circus, not enough political meat to be of any use. Far better to let the state party committees choose their delegates, send them off to wherever the convention is, have all the potential candidates give their best shot policy speeches there, then let the delegates decide. So what if it takes 137 ballots to come up with a candidate? It would be much more exciting to watch than the bland coronation ceremonies we now have. (Remember when it was exciting to watch convention coverage? Me too.) I would change the campaign finance laws to one simple rule: Thou Shalt Divulge The Source Of Every Single Penny Thou Dost Raise. Let the Federal Election Commission keep the running tally/source list, and have them send it off to the major media outlets once a week. No more fussing over hard money, soft money, 527's, and all the other rot. The Supreme Court, long ago, said that campaign contributions were a form of political speech protected by the First Amendment -- so how can it be constitutional to restrict it? And then, like God on the seventh day, I would rest.

For a change, nothing of importance. First, I didn't get that colonoscopy done -- I cancelled the original appointment and re-scheduled for November 11. I should be ready to face the doctor (well, considering what's going to be done, I won't be facing the doctor) by then. I'll also have my parents' memorial behind me as well; maybe thoughts of them were factors in my initial hate/fear of getting the test done, even though their deaths were not releated to testing or any one particular test. Then there's bowling -- I got my average -- it's 127, so I'm not going to set the bowling world on fire. (Last night's games were 111, 110, and 170 respectively, for roughly a 130 average for the night.) Last night's bowling meant I didn't get to see the second part of the excellent three-part PBS special on Broadway, but nothing is going to keep me from seeing the third part tonight (note to readers: don't even think about calling between 9 and 11 pm). I'm not too concerned about missing part 2 -- this is one of those landmark specials that will be a staple of pledge weeks for years to come.

I'm still not voting for Bush. I'm not currently supporting Kerry (his 20-year record in the Senate -- hell, even his three-year record post 9/11 -- do nothing to make me think he should be the president). I'm waiting for my sample ballot to see if the Libertarian candidate is available in New Jersey. Telling me not to throw my vote away on a third party candidate will be met with a rousing appeal to talk to the hand -- I believe no vote is wasted if it is given to the candidate/party that most closely agrees with your view of the issues. Although I am not in agreement with their party platform regarding the war, they come closest to my own fiscal-conservative-and-social-liberal views, so they would earn my vote. Two weeks left to go, and I'm so excited about this election I could just, um, have a movement.

You're nothing if you don't have your health. So sayeth the conventional widsom. On my last trip to the doctor, he didn't strongly suggest I get a colonoscopy, he arranged for the referral (necessary for the insurance company). Yesterday, I went in for the initial check. Big deal -- fill out the health history forms (don'tcha think *one* doctor could send a summary to the *other* doctor?), get my blood pressure taken, and allow the doctor to -- how can I put this delicately? -- palpate my prostate. (He liked it.) Quick test for blood in the stool comes up negative. Doctor shakes my hand and directs me to the nurse/clerk to make an appointment for the colonoscopy.

The n/c tells me that, no matter what, I have to have someone to drive me there and back for the procedure, because they sedate you for it. (I don't know why -- the doctor said the instrument is no bigger around than his finger, and I handled that with ease. No sniggering about gay men, if you please.) We settle on Thursday so that I can have Bill-the-honeybear do the driving -- although the n/c says I won't have the doctor I saw today doing the test (doesn't matter to me). Thursdays, he's at the hospital, and while I can have the test done there, it becomes an all-day procedure rather than -- she doesn't exactly say how long, but gives the impression it's only a couple of hours.

Then she gives me the instructions. (1) Fill prescription for something called Colyte, designed to help clean me out (at least it comes in five delicious flavors) Take the Colyte hourly starting at 4:00 p.m. Wednesday until it's all gone. (2) My medications: take half doses on Wednesday, nothing on Thursday before the test. (3) Food: nothing solid after 1:00 p.m. Wednesday. Clear liquids (broth, water, clear fruit juices (not orange), ginger ale, coffee, tea. Jell-O is allowed, but not red (looks like blood) or green (looks like feces). (4) Nothing at all after 6:00 a.m. Thursday -- but anything I want after the test.

And all this because I'm over 50.

Then there are the standard "chances of anything going wrong" statements. 1 in 1000 that the instrument will break through the colon or bowel wall, which necessitates surgery. 1 in 1000 that there will be some bleeding related to the test. The one I like best: 1 in 1.8 million that I'll die. (I must check out if that's better or worse than my chances of car accident, plane crash, or lightning strike.) And just to make me feel better, they ask if I have an advance directive, living will, or some such, and would I bring a copy with me please.

I hate this. I'm afraid of this. I know it's necessary, but that knowledge doesn't make the hate and fear go away.

In case you were wondering: My sister managed to get through everything Mother Nature threw at Florida recently with only minor consequences. Her stepson and his wife had slightly more damage (they live in Punta Gorda, the area where Charley made landfall) but still came out mostly OK. Other members of the wife's family were hit with varying degrees of damage -- her mother is looking at this as an opportunity to get her husband to move, finally, to their vacation house on the opposite coast. But my family came out pretty much fine.

Two weeks to go, and I still don't know who I'm voting for. Not Bush -- the FMA and the incredible mess in post-war Iraq make him the wrong man for the job. Not Kerry -- nothing he says seems to jibe with what he said yesterday, or a year ago, or on 9/12, or any point in his 20 year Senate career. (By the way, why haven't I heard anything about Kerry's Senate record? Seems to me that would be a better indicator of what the man stands for than what he did/didn't in Vietnam, or his work with Vietnam Veterans Against the War.) Now, my opinion may change -- there's still two weeks left -- but right now, I'm still not sure.

Didja notice? You can post comments on my posts now -- a new-ish feature of Blogspot. Just remember, this blog is still all about me.

Where has the time all gone to? I could have sworn that it was June only a day or so ago. Even last week, the October temperatures were in the 70's. Now I know why another name for "autumn" is "fall" -- because the change descends on you without warning or notice.

Wonderful world of color -- or colour, as our neighbors to the north spell it. The honeybear and I drove up to Toronto (7.75 hours if you don't stop, 10 hours if you do). I can't complain about the drive -- mostly interstate highways, plus the Queen Elizabeth Way, so it's nice easy driving, plus we were going against the flow of rush hour traffic. The bonus was getting to see the fall foliage -- not in New England (as Yogi Berra said, there are so many people there nobody goes there), but in Pennsylvania and New York and Ontario. The best was in the hills of Pennsylvania, especally with morning sunshine. Driving doesn't get better than this.

And how was the vacation, you ask? Just fine, thanks. We stayed at a bed-and-breakfast just two blocks away from the Church-Wellesley neighborhood (aka the gay district). We had easy access to the excellent Toronto Transportation Commission network of subways and streetcars. (Fie to all those cities which gave up the streetcar! It's a nice way to get around, uses electricity instead of diesel fuel, and you get a leisurely view of the city. Every big city in the US would have them, if I ruled the world.) We had made up a list of things that might be interesting to see, but agreed that we wouldn't have to see everything on the list, which meant we saw most of them and had time to see some additional sights. We saw the Toronto "home team" of The Second City -- even funnier than we expected. And the food was, for the most part, very good. (Avoid the Bright Pearl restaurant in Chinatown at all costs.) Bill even found that his style of broadcasting is alive and well in Toronto.

Home for the holidays? Well, yes and no. Monday (October 11) was Thanksgiving Day in Canada, and the restaurant we ate at the night before (a pub in Church-Wellesley) was offering a turkey dinner with all the trimmings -- so you could say we practiced for American Thanksgiving already. And Toronto felt open and friendly to us, so in a way we were at home (staying at a b&b adds to that feeling).

All good things... Well, we couldn't stay there forever. We headed back home on the 11th -- through almost uniformly gray weather, with morning drizzle to send us off. Like every vacation, this one was too short. Like few vacations, this one is worth repeating, and (given the proximity) sooner rather than later.

So much to do; so little time. It's shaping up to be a busy fall. First, the honeybear and I will be taking a quick weekend trip to beautiful Toronto to celebrate our fifth anniversary. When I tell my friends this, they all say "Five years? Has it been that long?" But I'm never certain if they mean it like "Wow, the time has flown so fast!" or "Wow, we never thought you'd make it that long!". Next comes the 25th wedding anniversary of my best friend from college. It's always been a matter of pride for me that I was the only non-family member invited to his wedding -- and that I was the one his bride-to-be put in charge of the pre-wedding trip to Barney's in NYC to get him a suit and matching tie. (This was before I came out to them. I guess my fabulous taste in clothing shone through even then.) Then in early November comes my 35th high school reunion. 1969 seems so far away, yet I've managed to make it through. A less pleasant trip comes in November as well -- I'm flying down to Florida, where my sister and I will scatter our parents' ashes (along with her husband's). At that time, it'll be just short of a year since my father died, and two months short of a year since my mother passed. It's a nostalgia-laden autumn this year.

Me? An athlete? Stranger things have happened. I've started bowling in a gay league that meets Wednesday nights. I'm on a two-man team (our third teammate never showed up for any games), the "Bear Necessities", and my teammate's name is Mike -- we're both big men, so the team name is appropriate. We've just finished our third week of play; next week, I understand, is when I get my official average, woohoo!

Bias in the media, or at least my 2 cents' worth. Once upon a time, there were lots of newspapers and magazines and other news outlets. They each had a viewpoint on the news -- the more honest ones would remind you what it was every now and then -- so you could remove the facts from the opinion (what we nowadays call slant or spin), or read two papers with opposite viewpoints and figure out the truth from there. Then along came the consolidation of the news media. Corporations formed, buying ownership of news outlets in a town, a state, the country. Along with this consolidation came the notion that reporters and editors (or, to use the current term, journalists) were dedicated to objectivity -- at least, as much as humanly possible -- and that there was no viewpoint informing the reporting (called today media bias).

Recently, we're being shown that this just ain't so. Fox News (and other media holdings of Rupert Murdoch) have a decidedly conservative/Republican/rightward slant. ABC, CBS, and NBC (owned by, respectively, The Disney Company, Viacom, and General Electric) have a decidedly liberal/Democrat/leftward slant. So does the New York Times (and its subsidiary, the Boston Globe) and the Los Angeles Times. The Washington Post slants somewhat to the left, but considering the town it's in it does a very good job at keeping the slant to a minimum.

Is this a bad thing? No. Nothing says that having a viewpoint and reporting honestly are mutually exclusive. What's bad is having a viewpoint, acting on it, but swearing that you don't have it at all. Case in point: CBS, which broadcast (on its 60 Minutes II show) a report claiming that the President failed to fulfill his duties while serving in the Texas Air National Guard. Backing up the report were documents supposedly written by one of his superior officers detailing the pressures applied to make sure George Bush got a "pass" on fulfilling his duties. What was the problem? The documents were fakes, and CBS -- the network of Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite -- not only didn't check them out thoroughly, but ignored warnings voiced by the document experts they hired. Making the situation worse was reporter Dan Rather's insistence that the papers were legit -- and when they were proven not to be, insisting that even though the papers were false the story was still true. Oh yes, and Rather has no bias against the President, especially in this election year (which is turning out to be more of a battle than anyone may have thought).

Rather and his producer, Mary Mapes (who has been working on "Bush in the Guard" stories for the past five years) will probably take the fall for this, one way or another. But the myth of the unbiased media has, I hope, with this been blown to smithereens for all time. Give me an honest partisan over a fake neutral any day -- especially when they're selling me the news.

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind's blowing. But you do need one to track the path of a hurricane. Right now, Hurricane Charley should be making landfall in the Tampa Bay area. Why should I care, you ask? Because my one and only sister lives in Seminole, about 30 minutes west of Tampa. Not that she's worried -- she lives in a non-evacuation area (translation: her house is up high and not near the water), she's got the house stocked with supplies, and she's prepared to ride out the storm. She e-mailed me last night to tell me (a) even if she did have to evacuate, the two places she'd head -- Orlando and Daytona -- are along the projected storm path, and (b) this is the storm they've been waiting for ever since she moved to Florida twelve years ago, so at least now it'll be over with. I'm glad she's ready for it. Me, I'll take New Jersey -- no major earthquakes, no major tornadoes, no major hurricanes. Just a little snow in the winter. I can live with that. (PS -- what's eerie is that I was just down there visiting her last weekend. If I'd scheduled the trip one week later, I either wouldn't have been able to get in or get out.)

S**t hits fan; film at 11. Since regular readers know that I'm (a) a New Jerseyan and (b) gay, it must follow that (c) I've got an opinion about yesterday's twin bombshells regarding the state's current governor, Jim McGreevey. Regular readers would be (d) right. I've got some not-quite-totally formed opinions, and since this blog is all about me (what, you didn't believe the subtitle?), I get to trot them out for you.

Let's get the gay thing out of the way first. I've known many gay men who married women, sired children, and then came out. Their stories, like McGreevey's yesterday, contain the common thread of marriage being the socially-acceptable thing to do. This is not an unusual situation, and while McGreevey said that he thought 47 was way too old to reach this conclusion, there are certainly many married gay men who have reached the same conclusion at later ages. That McGreevey felt he had to take the marriage path -- not once, but twice -- is testimony of the power of the closet even three decades post-Stonewall. So while I cheer his decision to come out, it's tinged with a little sadness that he felt he had to wait this long.

Did his being gay affect his performance as governor? I strongly doubt it. Like any officeholder, he's made good decisions and bad decisions. I'm sure there will be those who look back over his career using a fine tooth comb, second-guessing as to which decisions were made by his brain and which were made by -- well, a lower-placed body part. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he almost exclusively used his brain. (More on the "almost" later.)

Should he have resigned over the affair? No. Officeholders have had affairs with staffers before, have admitted their wrongs and taken responsibility for them, and have gone on to serve well and honorably. That this affair happened to be with another man really does not change anything -- it was still an affair with a staffer. Stupid, yes (as McGreevey admitted); foolish, yes (ditto); career-ending, not necessarily.

Is he resigning for the right reason? Yes. McGreevey has decided that the scandal attaching to his affair will reflect badly on the office of the Governor, and will prevent him from governing effectively for the remainder of his term. Since he believes he will not be able to govern effectively, it follows for him that the only responsible thing to do is resign the office. I'm sure his advisors, friends, and family have given him many reasons why he should not resign; but in the end the decision rests with the man himself. It's difficult enough to contemplate such a course of action, much less carry it out, but McGreevey has, and I give him full credit for it.

So where does the "almost" come in? Because, foolish as having this affair was, it pales in stupidity with putting your lover on the state payroll in a job for which he was grossly unqualified. The scandal that is causing McGreevey to step down from office stems directly from putting his lover (or ex-lover -- it's none of our business when this affair started or when it ended) into a high-paying government job (which he then left after six months). That's thinking with the "little head", and that's what started the ball rolling until we got to yesterday's combination coming out announcement and resignation speech. And it doesn't help that the lover has filed or is planning to file a sexual harrassment lawsuit against McGreevey -- no doubt weighing in on the decision to resign.

What about the politics involved? Ooooh, good question, and one that all the talking heads will be playing with. Here's where my partly-baked-ideas come in, so feel free to ignore, reject, or accept as you see fit. New Jersey state law says that if McGreevey resigns from office more than 90 days before the general election then a special election for governor must take place on November 2. McGreevey's resignation will take effect on November 15. While state Senate president Richard Codey would become acting governor no matter when McGreevey resigned, the 11/15 date ensures that Codey -- a Democrat, like McGreevey -- stays in the Governor's chair until the end of McGreevey's term in 2006, instead of possibly having to leave in 2005. McGreevey's reasoning for the 11/15 date is to allow enough transition time for Codey to take over the office. The Republicans are calling this nonsense, for two reasons. First, if McGreevey feels he cannot continue as governor, then he should resign sooner rather than later (what, he can effectively govern during the worst of the media swirl but not after it dies down?). Second, former governor Christine Todd Whitman (a Republican) pointed out that after she resigned to become GW Bush's head of the EPA, her successor (state Senate president Donald DiFrancesco, also a Republican) had only three weeks transition time and managed to deal with the governorship.

The shadow knows... The shadow being that of Democratic US Senator Jon Corzine, who many are speculating might want to run for governor in 2006 himself. By resigning in November and keeping the Governorship in the hands of the Democrats, McGreevey is making sure the seat will be kept warm for Corzine's 2006 run. I'm not so sure about this -- if the election were held in November 2004, and if Corzine wanted to run, he could always resign his Senate seat to do so. But then we run into...

The elephant in the living room. And the donkey too, for that matter. Yes, folks, 2004 is a Presidential election year. Speculation is that there will be a larger-than-usual Republican turnout at the polls this time, even though New Jersey is usually seen at the national level as a solidly Democratic state. But the more Republicans turn out to vote, the higher the chance that the new governor would also be (gasp!) a Republican, even if the Democratic candidate could afford to spend tens of millions of dollars of his own money on the campaign -- as Corzine did when he won his Senate seat, to the tune of $60 million. So (according to this confluence of speculations) it's better for McGreevey to resign in November instead of right away, preserving the Governorship for the Democrats for now, giving Corzine a better shot in 2006, and not risking the loss of Corzine's Senate seat this year. That's too much conspiracy theory for me, although I admit I'm not the world's sharpest tack in the long-term political strategy department.

So what's the upshot? From my own non-disinterested point of view: McGreevey did the right thing in coming out, admitting his affair, and taking full responsibility for it. I'm not sure the resignation was necessary, but that was McGreevey's choice to make and I must therefore respect it and the reasoning he gave. He should never have put his boytoy on the state payroll, and now he's paying the price for that. Jersey politics remains Jersey politics no matter what, and I'm sure the machinations going on right now in both parties would leave the Byzantines in the dust. Anyway, for the next three months, New Jersey will be the only state in the nation ever to have an openly gay man as its Governor -- and that is a reason to be proud.

Well, I'm back.  I haven't been posting for a while, primarily because life had other plans.  And eventually I'll share what's been happening with you.  But for now, let's stick to the near-past, the present, and (cue eerie theremin music) the near-future...

The first big thing:  My sister and I have been working on settling our parents' estate.  For those who came in late, my father passed away in November '03, and my mother followed him in January '04.  Since then, my sister and I have been dealing with (1) the various pensions, (2) our parents' IRAs, (3) the house, (4) the properties, (5) the cars, (6) my sister moving twice, and (7) trying to fit all this in while living our regular lives.  At least, for me, it's been slightly easier.  My sister lives in Florida (where our parents lived) so she's been taking the brunt of just about everything.  The only good thing?  She and I get along so well, there's no squabbling over what to do, or who gets to keep what.

Keepin' the Jinx Away:  Depends on who you talk to.  If you discuss plans ahead of time, you're either (1) tempting the gods to screw you over just for giggles, or (2) putting good energy out into the universe so that things will work for you.  Well, I'll opt for (2) right now, but I have to give you some history first.

My first partner, Irwin, and I were together for nearly 20 years.  When he died, I was the sole heir.  I remember the day when his life insurance checks arrived.  I sat on the bed, insurance company letter in hand, sobbing over and over "I want him back." 

I got a check yesterday from the sale of my parents' house.  No sitting on bed this time, no sobbing either, but I still wanted them back.  This is going to happen a few more times, as the estate gets distributed, but yesterday was the first one.  It's when the finality finally hits home, in a way.

Of course, being ruled by my emotions (insert sarcastic voice filter), I turned to more concrete thoughts of what to do with the money.  I won't go through the thought processes, because there were almost none -- it's a gift I have, that in times like this it's like everything falls into place after floating around in my head for however long (think of opening a jigsaw puzzle, throwing all the pieces in the air, and having them all fall into perfect place upon hitting the table).  Anyway, here's the plan: 

A percentage of the dough goes to pay off current debts.  Another chunk pays down the mortgage on the house.  A third piece goes into investments, mostly stocks (what I call my "play money").

The rest goes to future work on the house.  For starters, I know the roof and the gutters need to be replaced, as well as 28 windows and the front and side doors.  From there, it gets interesting.  The garage needs to be totally replaced.  The kitchen needs to be enlarged.  Both bathrooms need to be totally redone.  From there, it's dreamwork:  getting the grounds landscaped; building a deck off the back; building something to go over the driveway, like a carport; remodeling the three bedrooms into two; even (way far off dream) building a guest house attached by a walkway over the driveway to the main house.

And no, I'm not inheriting that much, thank you.  But my parents have done one last time what they've done for me most of my life:  given me the means to fly.

And I still want them back.

On the Road Again:  In two weeks, I'm taking a quick solo trip to Florida to pick up some furniture and stuff from my parents' house, that my sister is keeping in storage for me.  August 1 is the anniversary of Irwin's death, so I'll be at the cemetary for my annual talk with him.  The weekend around October 10 is when Bill-the-honeybear and I will be celebrating our fifth-can-you-believe-it? anniversary in Toronto.  Election Day finds Bill and I flying down to Disney World to meet my sister and commemorate our parents' deaths.

And now for something completely different:  I recently changed my political affiliation from Republican to independent.  I think President Bush was right to go into Afghanistan, and right to strike at Iraq -- I see these actions as two facets of the larger struggle against radical Islamic terrorism.  (Side note:  In this century, it's no longer patriotism that's the last refuge of scoundrels, it's terrorism.)  However, his administration has managed to bungle the critical period between the end of major military operations and the turnover of power to a new Iraqi government; he has tossed out any concern for fiscal restraint, which used to be a key Republican defining point; and most fatally he has, through his support for the Federal Marriage Amendment, his ban on stem cell research, and his stand on drugs (especially regarding medical uses of marijuana), totally abandoned the smaller-government, decentralized power that the Republicans used to give at least lip service to.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm not supporting Kerry, at least not right now.  My problem is that I haven't found a candidate yet that supports at least a bare majority of my positions, and who I can believe does and will support them through their term. 

I think I'd rather have a McCain-Lieberman fusion ticket than anything that's out there right now.

And would someone please tell Ralph Nader to get a life?  (Preferably one that doesn't include running for President every four years [cf. Harold Stassen, William Jennings Bryant].)

Thus endeth the political rantings of the laird of Toad Hall...

Better than I. I spent yesterday's post talking about Iraq, one year later. Leave it to Canadian journalist Mark Steyn to come up with something better. Go to his website now and read it. http://www.steynonline.com/index2.cfm?edit_id=67

The Year of Iraq. You really didn't think I would keep my opinions to myself, did you? After all, I know just as much as the talking heads on every news outlet in creation. And since this blog is all about me, I get to spout here. Feel free to skip to another item if you're on a spout-free diet.

Where we went right. (We, of course, meaning the United States.) We toppled a murderous dictator and killed his sociopathic sons, thus ending his dynastic ambitions. We formed and led a coalition of some 60 nations in order to do this. We are rebuilding the infrastructure left to rot for the last decade or more. We are training the Iraqi people in the fundamentals of democracy and in how to defend themselves against the inevitable day when the coalition forces go home.

We refused to let the United Nations' unwillingness to enforce its own resolutions hamstring our actions. We refused to let foreign policy be dictated by those whose motives for opposing action, it was later revealed, were tainted by financial scandal involving Iraq. And we reaped several benefits in the region: the voluntary elimination of Libya's nuclear program; Syria's huge reluctance to get itself involved in Iraq; increasing protests within Iran against its mullah-cracy.

Where we went wrong. Immediately after 9/11, top heads of the CIA and FBI should have been sacked for their mismanagement of intelligence leading up to the attacks, and for their fatal territorial battles over gathering and sharing intelligence. Also immediately after 9/11, instead of creating a dangerous Patriot Act grab-bag of civil rights reductions, the Vietnam-era laws forbidding intelligence sharing between CIA and FBI should have been repealed.

Although the intelligence used to justify invading Iraq was agreed to by not only the USA but the UK, France, Germany, Israel, and the UN (just to name a few), once it was discovered that the intelligence was not highly accurate an explanation (not an excuse) should have been given to the American people, and to the world. It wasn't, and that decision will come back to haunt us in the future.

Regime change in Iraq was always stated as the goal of this invasion. However, there seemed to be no base plan for achieving a change from dictatorship to democracy, nor was there any sort of best guess on the amount of time or money this would take. Bad planning on the part of the executive branch will inevitably lead to cost increases that simply should have been avoidable.

Congress doesn't get let off the hook, either. Several authorizing resolutions regarding the use of force in Iraq should not have been followed by the wrangling over funding that use or the ways in which that funding was to be used. It is particularly odious to see leaders in the opposition party (as well as members of the ruling party) vote to allow force yet vote against funding -- sending the message that all the American leadership is prepared to do is make threats without teeth.

And the final analysis is that although the wrong reasons for action were stressed in making the case to the public, the outcome was a good one. The US and its coalition partners are managing to construct hope in Iraq, and by extension throughout the Middle East. And yes, it's not perfect. What thing made by the hands of man is? It's better than hoped for and less than ideal. The initial stages were done more rapidly and with less loss of life than expected.

And the future? As a wise and dear friend used to say, "My name's not Clara Voyant and I don't have crystal balls."

Spring will be a little late... Monday, when I pulled my rib muscle, it was sunny and warm -- almost reaching 60. Tuesday, it snowed. Three inches worth, although the accumulation was thankfully much less. Wednesday was grayish, and overnight left a new dusting of snow. Thursday was sunny and relatively warmer, which melted the snowdust. Tomorrow's forecast? Four to six inches of snow, mixing at times with sleet and rain. And Saturday is the first day of spring. April can't come soon enough. Or May or June, for that matter.

Transport of the future. I'm training my nephew-by-friendship, Alex, the right way. For his birthday and Christmas, I get him additional pieces of a monorail set modeled after the real ones at Disney World. I was visiting yesterday, and he took me into the basement to show me the latest setup: a sprawling system going from under the stairs, snaking around and under the air hockey table, and ending...in mid-air. I asked him what happens when the train reaches the end of its track. "I catch it!" he grinned.

Seems he ran out of track. I know he knows how to make connected circuits -- I've seen him make figure-8s and double loops. Guess I'll concentrate on buying extra track for the next gift-giving occasion.

Spain. Some partly-baked thoughts:

The recent change of ruling party in Spain is being credited to/blamed on fear of al-Qaida and the 3/11 train bombings that have killed 201. I'm not so sure. If, as some say, the Spanish electorate are cowards, then why didn't they stay at home instead of going to a public polling place?

And was the Popular Party (the one that was defeated) really doing all that well in the final week leading up to the election? If they were, I don't think reaction to the bombings would be great enough to change the results of the election. If they were running close to the Socialists, or even slightly behind, then I could see it. Yet most polls were saying the PP was ahead...I know that pollsters are not God, yet if the pre-election polls are being reported accurately, then this is the biggest poll blunder since "Dewey Defeats Truman".

I will hand it to the Socialists. By being the first to rush to the microphones and say "We're not going to campaign any more," they grabbed the high ground away from the Popular Party. The PP couldn't do anything that might even smack of campaigning without looking callous towards the dead. Isn't it true that the last, biggest, most effective burst of campaigning is done in the last few days before the election? And that's what the Socialists managed to snatch away from the PP. Clever lads.

Workin' for the weekend... Friday night, there's an open mike event Bill and I go to called "Out of the Box", down in New Brunswick. There's a big Gay and Lesbian Expo at the Javits Center in NYC this weekend. There's also two other possible events for Saturday. Oh, yes, and the guy from PSE&G is coming to read the gas meter Saturday. Sunday, the traditional "breakfast followed by grocery shopping". All in all, it's shaping up to be one busy weekend.

Of course, now that I've said that, everything will fall apart and I'll be sitting here Saturday afternoon saying "I dunno, what do you wanna do?" to Bill. To make the gods laugh, make plans for the future.

Ouch. One of my early morning rituals is to roll over in bed and snuggle with Bill the Boyfriend. When I did it this morning, I got a sharp pain in my right side, going from under my armpit to under my breast. It hurt to breathe deeply, it hurt to roll over, it hurt to sit up. Scared? Hurting? You better believe it. I managed to shower, dress, and call in sick to work, then Bill took me to the doctor. His opinion: I had managed to pull one of the rib muscles. He prescribed a high-powered anti-inflammatory (naproxen) and the use of heat pads, told me today would be the worst day, smiled and left.

I got the prescription filled and have spent today letting the miracle of modern medical science (aka drugs) work on my achy self. Improvement is expected to be slow and steady (the doctor's words).

Yesterday I found a piece of yesteryear. Just for something to do, Bill and I went driving westward, following the tracks of the Raritan Valley Line. (For those of you not from New Jersey, that's a branch of New Jersey Transit that serves my town. For those of you from New Jersey and old enough to remember, the branch used to be part of the Jersey Central Railroad.) We made it to three of the five stations, because at the third station (Lebanon) I saw something that made my jaw literally drop:

The Hickory Creek. A fully-restored round-ended observation car once owned by the New York Central Railroad. And not just any round-ended observation car: this car had been part of, and still carried the illuminated sign proclaiming, the 20th Century Limited. The car is owned today by the United Railroad Historical Society, which purchased it, refurbished it, and allows it to be shown off at events like last year's big railroad fair at Hoboken Terminal. I got to stand next to it, and touch it, and have my picture taken with it. I was in heaven.

They also had, at Lebanon station, other pieces of equipment in various stages of refurbishment, including a Pullman car with markings from the Frisco line, and another NY Central lounge car, number 47.

By the way: the URHS is one of the main driving forces behind the creation of a New Jersey Railroad Museum in Phillipsburg. Go to their website at http://www.urhs.org, see what they're doing, and consider either volunteering or giving them money.

We also had dinner afterwards, at our hometown branch of the Lone Star Steakhouse. If you can get steak anywhere else, do so. Not that the food was bad, it just wasn't very good, and the decor was just trying too hard to make it feel like Texas but not succeeding. The staff, however, was just fine. (Note for beer drinkers: Bill ordered a bottle of Kilian's Red, and got two: one opened, the other one unopened in a little tin bucket of ice. A nice touch.)

Well, that didn't take long. Blog*spot doesn't have the ability for readers to post here -- at least, not the version I'm using. So, for those of you who care to comment, you can reach me by e-mail at neunerdude *at* cs *dot* com.

And I would appreciate a little civility, please. I am not on this earth to make your life miserable with what I post -- it's just too much work, frankly -- so do not assume that is the motivation behind any of my posts. Thank you.

One of my friends e-mailed me to tell me what she thought of my new blog, and immediately spotted a goof. I asked for input on how to make the blog better. What I didn't do was give you any way to send input to me. Let me look into how I can provide a link from here to my e-mail; as soon as I find out how it's done, I'll add it to the site.

Thank you for your patience.

Good afternoon. You've stumbled across Toad Hall, my first attempt at a blog. As the subtitle above states, this blog is indeed all about me -- or, more precisely, the things that interest me on a long-term basis (e.g. the theatre, passenger rail, Mensa, comic books, gay rights) or that have captured my attention for whatever reason (e.g. items in other blogs, cartoons and comic strips).

Since I'm new to all this, I'll no doubt be making the rookie mistakes everyone else does. A little forbearance on your part, gentle readers, will be much appreciated...as will advice. Understand, though, that advice given may not be followed immediately, if at all. It's all about me, remember?

Some explanation for the title of this blog. For reasons I won't go into at this time, one of my nicknames in college was "Toad". (Oh, all right. Sitting in the dorm common room with my group of friends, my favorite seating position was on the floor, sitting on my haunches, occasionally bouncing up and down if something struck me as humorous. A friend referred to me as "the toad" and the name stuck.) Also, one of my favorite pieces of literature is Kenneth Grahame's "The Wind in the Willows", wherein the local squire's house is "Toad Hall". Since this is to be my house in the blogosphere, it seemed a logical choice.

I would hope that (1) I post here more often than not, and (2) I manage to provide you, gentle readers, with some amusement. Just remember: It's all about me.