I saw one of the more absurd articles in yesterday's New York Times. It seems there is a revolution afoot in the electronic world, because Amazon and other retailers are raising the price of electronic books from $9.99 to $14.99. Additionally, some publishers are getting dinged because they delay the electronic release of a book until the print version has been out a few months. And the men and women who devour e-books on their Kindles are none too pleased.

These practices have led to several hilarious episodes where readers give 1-star reviews to books in retaliation. Some of the angrier customers even berate the authors via e-mail, and vow to never again purchase that author's work. They argue an electronic book should be cheaper than a print edition, and obviously the publishing companies are gouging.

The publishers, meanwhile, assert there is more to making a book than the printing cost and paying the author. Unsurprisingly, I tend to think there is a bit of truth to each side's argument. An electronic book is cheaper than a print book, just like music on iTunes is cheaper than a CD. You don't need all that packaging, the physical media, the cost of materials. Yet, a book is not the product of a single author - I don't know the exact details of how a major book is completed, but there's a lot of work involved. That costs money.

However, the real reason I'm writing about this is because of the goofy lengths people go to express their displeasure. Writing a 1-star review? Seeking out an author to tell him he's a filthy, money-grubbing whore? Aren't there more productive ways to use one's time? $14.99 is not a whole to pay for a book, especially a brand new one. Simple logic declares a new, more popular book should cost more than one that's been out for awhile.

Kindles, however, don't strike me as especially elegant devices. Yes, it's nice to carry around tons of books in a tiny little package, but is reading off a screen really the same thing? Half the enjoyment from reading a book is the feel of the pages, the shape of the type, the way an old book smells. A Kindle has none of those things. I suppose I felt the same way about iPods, and those run my life now. Yet, I still feel a book is different. That's why I'd rather pay $25 for an actual book, rather than $9.99 or $14.99 for an electronic book.

Back when I was at the Norfolk airport, a 5 year old boy kept setting off the metal detector. His dad couldn't figure out what it was; neither could the TSA folks. Finally they determined it was the buttons on his pants that kept setting off the alarm.

Now, I don't know what the proper next step is in this situation, but I know the dad's solution wasn't it. You see, the dad says, "take off your pants!"

So the boy takes off his pants in full view of 50 people, and goes through the detector without a problem. Even for a 5 year old boy, showing an airport your dinosaur undies has to be mortifying.

I can only assume that when those two get home, and the mom finds out what happened, she is gonna be pisssssssed. "You did *what*!?" And then she hits him with a rolling pin. At least I hope that's what happened...

Hi everyone. So, last Thursday I found myself in Richmond, Va. as the so-called "snowmageddon" was lumbering towards the Mid-Atlantic. There's no denying that was one nasty storm, but I sure had to snicker at the newscasters who predicted doom and gloom. It also made me a little wistful for Ohio, where a couple inches of snow guaranteed a day off from school. Chicago, of course, has an arsenal of snow plows, and it would have to be The Day After Tomorrow before school was canceled.

Lucky for me, Social Security also snow days of sorts: if I, as the representative, am unable to get to the hearing because of the weather, it *must* be postponed. How dope is that!?

Today was one of those snow days, as Chicago took 14 inches of the white stuff in the chin. I only experienced part of it, because I ended up stuck in Atlanta. I could have done without that.

Back to Richmond: I drove the next morning to Norfolk, where the snow had turned to slush. It was pure, unadulterated misery driving in that slush. It was slow-going, but I made it. So, no matter how incompetent you think the city of Chicago is, at least they usually get the streets plowed.

The storm also convinced me that they ought to move the capital to Buffalo. Buffalo may even be better than Chicago when it comes to plowing snow. I can guarantee the capital won't shut down because it snows 3 feet.

When I first heard about "Up In The Air," I was pretty much sold on seeing it. In the movie, George Clooney is a fellow who works for a company that fires people for companies who are unwilling to do it themselves. I was interested because Clooney's character spends 300 nights in hotels, is constantly on airplanes, and rarely sees home.

Now, for the past year, I've had a somewhat similar lifestyle. I have spent nowhere close to 300 days in a hotel. More like 30 or 40, but I've racked up the frequent flyer miles. I even flew Southwest so much that I have a pass that lets me take a person of my choosing with me, wherever I go, for free.

So, as a fellow airport dweller, I have a few quibbles with the movie. First of all, I'm dying to know how Clooney keeps his suits so clean and wrinkle free, despite toting a suitcase that looks like it holds a day's worth of clothes. If there is one thing I constantly struggle with, it's being able to carry all my stuff that I need - client files, computer, etc. - in a bag, and not keep my suit from getting messed up. Either Clooney has a great folding system, or he spends buku bucks on dry cleaners. [One respondent on Facebook suggested that because he's Clooney, he does whatever he wants. I can't quibble with that.]

Then, there's the idea that he seems to have no work with him when he goes places. Does he just show up somewhere, wing it, and then off he goes? I don't get it. Doesn't he need to study? Doesn't he have notes? It bothers me.

Anyway, as for the movie, I enjoyed it. It had an interesting twist at the end, and didn't get saddled down with a traditional Hollywood ending. I don't think it was good as Jason Reitman's first escapade, Thank You For Smoking. He also directed Juno, which I enjoyed, but at the same time found grating. I mean, no teenage girl is that cool. Maybe I should watch it again.

Also, when I went to see the movie, I answered a trivia question correctly and got an official soundtrack album as a prize. It contains a great version of "This Land Is Your Land," by Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. Woody Guthrie = awesome.

Did you see Avatar? I myself have not yet, but plan to. Chances are, you did, because the movie is now the 3rd highest-grossing movie of all time. Would you still see it if you knew that every single interest group has something in the movie to ridicule?

Republicans hate it. Democrats hate it. The Catholic Church hates it. Word it, even Switzerland is not impressed. The truth it, they're all a bunch of nitwits.

Conservatives are aghast because the movie appears to be anti-military. (Yes, I know Ald. Balcer is a Democrat, but he'd never be mistaken for Barney Frank.) Meanwhile, some liberals say the movie glorifies imperialism and genocide. The Vatican claims it directs people to worship nature as a god.

My favorite has to be the anti-smoking lobby. Sigourney Weaver's character smokes, and some tobacco foes see this as billions in free advertising for Joe Camel:

Having caught up with James Cameron’s 3-D science fiction thriller, “Avatar,” over the holidays, Stanton A. Glantz, director of the Center for Tobacco Control Research and Education at the University of California, San Francisco, said his Smoke Free Movies initiative would soon come out swinging with an informational campaign aimed at what he saw as the movie’s pro-smoking message.

“This is like someone just put a bunch of plutonium in the water supply,” Mr. Glantz said in a telephone interview last week. He was referring to scenes in which an environmental scientist played by Sigourney Weaver drags lovingly on a cigarette as she works to save the moon Pandora sometime in the 22nd century.

Being at this job, I fly to a lot of out of the way places. As you'd see from my previous entry, today I was in Albany, Georgia. Albany, it seems, has an airport. I gleefully flew to it, considering the closest major airport was 182 miles away in Atlanta.

However, this airport was the very epitome of tiny. It had one small departure area. Waiting in security, I learned that area had no bathroom. After I make an emergency bathroom run and went through security, I had a good two-minute long conversation with the TSA man about my Buffalo Bills t-shirt, and how the Bills sucked. It was positively delightful.

When I walked out to the plane, I was greeted with the staircase, and not the modern jetway. Now, I am no prima donna. I don't mind walking out to the staircase. In fact, I found it sort of romantic. This is, after all, how people back in the 30's and 40's boarded airplanes - out on a windswept tarmac, as engines blew hot air around the passengers. I'd probably think differently if there was a driving rain.

The downside to this was the airplane was so small, I had nowhere to fit my roller bag, so I had to check it. If there is a way to feel useless, it's to be on an airplane without that bag. Even if I had no intention of using it, and it would only crowd my feet, there's a certain safety to it, like if we suddenly became stranded on an island (a highly unlikely scenario for a flight entirely over land), at least i'd have my laptop and some paper. I'm sure there'd be outlets.

Well hello my friends, it's 2010. Can you believe it? Two-thousand-and-f'ing-ten. My how times flies.

Anyway, the past week or so, I've had quite the travails through Georgia. Last week I was in Macon, home to the dearly-departed Macon Whoopee. Today, I was in Albany, a little city near the Florida border that is home to a Marine supply depot. It's also the birthplace of Ray Charles.

I have to say, if I hadn't wikipediaed Albany before I went there, I wouldn't have had an inkling Ray Charles was born here. Yes, there's a statue, but otherwise his name seems to be largely absent from the town. I didn't see a Ray Charles Street, or something else named after him. Most towns, when they have a famous native, go crazy and name everything after that person. For example, my hometown loves to drum up its ties to William Tecumseh Sherman, the Civil War general who famously vowed to "make Georgia howl."

I mean, New Orleans named its airport after Louis Armstrong, of all people. I don't know. Seems excessive.

Anyhow, Albany was a nice town. I had time to go for a quick 4-mile jaunt, and I was impressed with some of the old-fashioned houses and typical Southern charm. Everyone was extremely nice, even if I was clearly a Yankee, or as a judge in Florida called me, a carpetbagger.

So, apparently there's a big to do down in Springfield. The Freedom from Religion Foundation, after finding out there was a Christmas tree and nativity scene in the state Capitol, got permission to erect a display of their own. It said:

"At the time of the winter solstice, let reason prevail. There are no gods, no devils, no angels, no heaven or hell. There is only our natural world. Religion is just myth and superstition that hardens hearts and enslaves minds."

William J. Kelly announced Tuesday that he planned to take down the sign put up by the Freedom from Religion Foundation, and on Wednesday, he tried to make good on his plan.

But Kelly said when he turned the sign around so it was face down, state Capitol police were quick to escort him away.

...


But Kelly called the sign "hate speech," and said he does not believe it is appropriate for a sign that "mocks" religion to be placed next to a Christmas tree and also near a nativity scene.

Haupt said in addition to the sign, the Nativity Scene and the Christmas tree, there is also a Soldiers' Angels wreath, and a tabletop display from the American Civil Liberties Union that says the group "defends freedom of religion." A Hanukkah menorah had also been on display until the Jewish Festival of Lights ended on Saturday.

For the second year in a row, the Capitol also has an aluminum Festivus pole commemorating the fictional holiday created in "Seinfeld."

I'm happy to say my hearing today ended with a positive outcome, and so afterwards I walked around downtown Toledo, where I happened upon the local science museum. Back in the day, the museum was known as COSI, and there was another COSI in downtown Columbus. That one was right next to the original Wendy's, which finally closed a few years ago. But that's another story.

The COSI in Columbus was a magical place. My family and I would go there all the time, even though they had basically the same exhibits every time. There was a replica Mercury capsule. There was the fake coal mine, like the one at the Museum of Science and Industry here in chicago. There was a giant model of the human heart; a bee colony; a pendulum that knocked down evenly spaced pegs every five minutes; Johnny Five from Short Circuit; and all sorts of other amazing things. There was also the Time Tunnel, which featured scenes from all throughout human history, including the Black Death, the Huns' sacking of Rome, the Civil War and other events. Looking back, it wasn't very positive, which probably explains my twisted worldview nowadays.

About ten or fifteen years ago, someone had the bright idea to move COSI to a bigger and better location. Many of the exhibits that enthralled me did not make the switch. I can't tell you if today's children enjoy the new COSI, but I think it sucks. The old COSI ruled.

Anyway, at the entrance to the original museum there was this Rube Goldbergesque contraption where rubber balls were plucked from a bin, moved along conveyor belts, and through all other kinds of obstacles until eventually rolling to the other end of the exhibit, before finally ending up back into the bin of balls. It was the sort of silly science experiment that fascinated children, including myself.

Wouldn't you know, the museum in Toledo had almost the exact same thing. Their's was more elaborate, but it was the same spirit. The balls started at the top, bounced on platforms, rang bells, and moved along conveyor belts before repeating the process all over again. It was amazing. I must have watched those stupid balls for a good fifteen minutes, figuring out all the ways they were moving in that machine. I didn't much care that I was the only adult, surrounded by children. It was a blast. Who says science isn't fun?

Unless you are completely and utterly isolated, and because you are reading this web site you most likely aren't, you've heard about the Salahis, who showed up at President Obama's recent state dinner without an invitation. Despite their protestations, this is a couple with a long history of sneaking into places and other dubious claims. Knowing that, I don't see how anyone is going to believe their protestations that this is all a big misunderstanding.

Sadly, I am torn about what to think of these two. I have two competing instincts: one is to smack these knuckleheads on the noggin and ask them, WTF are you doing? This is the President of the United States. You can't be sneaking into the god damn White House. That part of me sincerely would revel in them getting thrown in jail or fined.

On the other hand, another part of me snickers at the fun-loving intrigue of it all. Who *wouldn't* want to crash a party at the White House? There's a human urge to bend the rules, to be where one is not supposed to be. For that, I have to admire the Salahis. I once was attending a wedding, and noticed that another reception was down the hall. Some friends and I snuck in, mingled with the guests, and had a few drinks. Then I nailed the maid of honor. Just kidding, I was seeing if you were paying attention. It was the mother of the bride.

Until the Salahis went and posted it all over the internet, they were getting away with it, too. And that's where my instinct to see them get punished kicks in - they're not simply a fun-loving couple. They're trying to get on a reality show. The wife posed as a Redskins cheerleader. The husband is a publicity hound. If these were two people who otherwise had no history of buffoonery, I'd feel much more sympathetic.

I'm just getting worked up about people doing outrageous things to get on a reality show. The Salahis, one would think, should have taken the lesson from Balloon Boy's parents, one of whom is soon to be a convicted felon. Way to go, champ. It'd be cruel-hearted of me to want the Salahis to get thrown out on the street, but I would be most pleased if they suffered the full consequences of their schmuckery.

But they won't. I'm convinced that after this, the Salahis, who are trying to get on the Real Housewives of D.C. show, are now shoe-ins. Bravo would be stupid if they didn't put her on the show - the ratings boost from seeing her will be too hard to resist. Then other people will see the reward in doing something looney to get on TV, and the cycle will go on and on.

Work this past week took me to Long Beach, California, and then off to Cleveland the day after. Unfortunately, several broken airplanes and 8 hours of delays waylaid my plans, and I spent the night in Denver. Then, today, as I again attempted to get to Cleveland, another plane broke. Now, I'm in Newark, New Jersey, still trying to get home. Don't ask.

When I was in Denver, I picked up the Denver Post, and read this interesting article:

More than one nervous medical student has entered Robin Mulroney's hospital gown from the bottom to listen to her lungs.

Aspiring doctors also have been known to forget to release blood-pressure cuffs after taking the vitals of their "patient." And there was the time a student inserted a speculum upside-down during one of LoriLynne Lawson's many pelvic exams endured in the name of training future physicians.

The days when medical students learned how to examine patients just by watching real doctors in action and then trying it themselves are now supplemented by people such as Mulroney and Lawson: "standardized patients" who are paid $20 to $50 per hour to let students poke inside their ears and tap on their stomachs.


These fake patients, many of them professional actors looking for extra money, can cry on demand when they are "diagnosed" with cancer or Alzheimer's disease. Strong memorization skills are a must: Patients have to stick to a script saturated with family history of disease, medications, sexual history and surgeries.

This is your typical, run-of-the-mill assault case, until one reads the fine print. First, here's the basics of the story:

Authorities said Armando Almaraz, 35, was charged Monday afternoon with felony aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and criminal property damage, a misdemeanor.

Almaraz allegedly got into an argument with the burrito salesman at West Side Recycling on Monday, according to documents filed in court by domestic violence investigator Bo Nevarez. Almaraz allegedly grabbed the salesman by the neck and chased him away from the business.

Nevarez said Almaraz doesn't work at West Side Recycling, but his family does.

Almaraz allegedly picked up a rock and threatened to hit the burrito salesman with it, but instead kicked the salesman's parked Toyota truck, leaving a dent in the door, according to two witness statements — both actions Almaraz denied.

The argument started, Almaraz told investigators, when he told the burrito salesman he wasn't wanted on business property. Almaraz alleged the burrito salesman threw a rock at him, striking him in the torso, and produced a box cutter during the fight.

I salute the Oxford New American Dictionary, I really do. They try to drum up support for the ever-evolving English language through their "Word of the Year," which almost always has something quibble-worthy about it.

Last year's word was "hypermiling," which is cool and all but is not exactly something a lot of people say. Another dictionary named "truthiness" as its word of the year a few years ago, again despite the fact nobody really says that. Same goes for "locavore."

This year, the dictionary chose "unfriend," which of course is the act of erasing somebody from one's Facebook or Myspace list of friends. Now, again, here's the problem: nobody says unfriend. It's "defriend."

This is a serious breach of protocol by the dictionary people. I would assume the average person views a dictionary editor as nerdy, out-of-touch, and decidedly uncool. So what better way for dictionary folk to get hip than to start tossing around the newest slang?

Well, way to go, they even messed that up. Their choosing unfriend instead of defriend is akin to walking into a party, and asking for some "reefer." Nobody says reefer anymore! Thus, that particular partygoer has given himself away as hopelessly uncool, or possibly a narc. Obviously the dictionary isn't in the business of narcing, but you see my point.

You suck, Oxford Dictionary.

I salute the Oxford New American Dictionary, I really do. They try to drum up support for the ever-evolving English language through their "Word of the Year," which almost always has something quibble-worthy about it.

Last year's word was "hypermiling," which is cool and all but is not exactly something a lot of people say. Another dictionary named "truthiness" as its word of the year a few years ago, again despite the fact nobody really says that. Same goes for "locavore."

This year, the dictionary chose "unfriend," which of course is the act of erasing somebody from one's Facebook or Myspace list of friends. Now, again, here's the problem: nobody says unfriend. It's "defriend."

This is a serious breach of protocol by the dictionary people. I would assume the average person views a dictionary editor as nerdy, out-of-touch, and decidedly uncool. So what better way for dictionary folk to get hip than to start tossing around the newest slang?

Well, way to go, they even messed that up. Their choosing unfriend instead of defriend is akin to walking into a party, and asking for some "reefer." Nobody says reefer anymore! Thus, that particular partygoer has given himself away as hopelessly uncool, or possibly a narc. Obviously the dictionary isn't in the business of narcing, but you see my point.

You suck, Oxford Dictionary.

I'm kind of a newspaper fiend, so much to the point that when I first moved to Chicago, one of the first things I did was set up a newspaper subscription. That was seven years ago, but since then I have woken up in the morning - sometimes in the afternoon, admittedly, to find a new Tribune waiting at my doorstep. Sitting down to breakfast, lunch, or some Starbucks, my newspaper was always there to entertain me. When I go on vacation, I always seek out a newspaper. I'm pretty crabby if I don't get it. That's why the subscription is essential.

Now that's all thrown off. Since I moved, I've had a problem with my newspapers disappearing. I never was too sure what happened to them, but I figured it was because I live on a fairly busy street, the papers get left on my doorstep, and some ne'er-do-well is swiping them.

So, this Sunday, when I ambled downstairs around 10 am, my Tribune was nowhere to be found. I called the Tribune, told them I never got my newspaper, and please send me another one. They sure did, and I very much enjoyed it.

You can imagine my delight when the following notice was stuck to my Monday newspaper. The Tuesday newspaper was there, as well. Will Wednesday's also arrive? Time will tell.