Robert Craig "Evel"
Knievel 1938-2007

Evel Knievel died.

I am tying to come up with a way to express my feelings about his passing. I used to have one of those Evel Knievel motorcycles that slipped into crank. I would spin the crank and the plastic motorcycle would whine and then blast out of the cradle and slam into the wall in the living room. My Evel figure broke every wire in his plastic body.

But I never thought the real Evel Knievel would die.

Godspeed, Evel! You're making your biggest jump yet.

Here in Paradise, some very vocal people are calling the police when a cat farts and disturbs their tranquility. They would really hate it in England!

Across the pond, bands of roving children sing Chri$tma$ carols through stacks of Marshall amps, deafening everyone around them. Actually, it was 29 children in a mall who were told to stop singing or sing more quietly as some people had called to complain. And they say AmeriKKKa hates Chri$tma$!

It would take 30 bottles of Guinness Guinness Draught to kill me

Anaheim Police had to break up a shoving match between three moms (with children in tow) as they argued over their places in line to see Santa Claus.

Jebus would be so proud to see how these moms celebrate his birth: By breaking a couple of commandments. Numbers 2 and 3 in particular. Although, I've seen a couple of catfights and I'm reasonably sure the Lord's name was taken in vain at least once.

I am a skeptic.

I do not believe in ghosts or spirits. I do not believe in invisible people in the sky who control our destiny. Similarly, I don't believe in UFOs. I do not believe in Bigfoot, Yeti, chupacabra, mok'ele-mbembe, Nessie or Champ. (Google 'em.) I do not believe that John Edwards, Sylvia Browne, or Derek Acora actually communicate with spirits.

Oddly, I find myself watching Ghost Hunters, Most Haunted, and Monster Quest. And I spent most of Thursday glued to the TV watching the SciFi Channel's marathon.

The other day, a friend told me this story: While driving from Houston to Seguin on IH-10 to her in-laws' home with her three kids (This was in the days before car seats. So if anyone reading this tries to get their kids to do the same thing, it's not my fault.) the car broke down. She pulled over to the side of the road, and began to panic. Her oldest kid was six, the youngest was two. She looked in her rear view mirror, and a white tow truck had pulled up behind her. Two men in white jumpsuits jumped out and got her car fixed so she could get to Seguin. She told one of the men they were angels and he didn't respond. She got back in her car, told her kids to turn around and wave to the nice men. (Remember: before car seats. Do not allow your children to ride unrestrained in a car until they are 87. Do not allow them to move in a car!) When the kids went to wave, the tow truck was gone.

I don't doubt her story. But, I don't believe they were angels.

I would like to believe in all this stuff. The world would be a much more interesting place. And just because we can't prove something now, doesn't mean we won't be able to prove it later.

Two feuding brothers in Mexico have doomed their native language. The brothers, who haven't spoken to each other in a while, are the last speakers of Zoque, a native language in the Tabasco region. As a result, the language is going extinct.

I don't know why everyone has their panties in a bunch. They should be learning English anyway.