Spank the kids, go to jail. Finally an end to war.

According to California Democratic Assemblywoman Sally Lieber spanking, hitting and/or slapping a child under 4 years of age victimizes the helpless little terror and, like so many things these days, including transfats I’m sure, leads to violence in society.

If she has her way she’ll have the government come and get you and slap you in your room in the slammer for a year to think about it and charge you a grand for the pleasure.

But she’s a conscientious Assemblywoman, Ms. Lieber is, because she doesn’t want wanton ne’er-do-well parents to have a really bad black mark next to their names and is only classifying the offense as a misdemeanor. A grey mark perhaps, if you will.

I can see it now. Junior or Junioretta bust a tantrum and out comes the belt. But wait…a year in the pokey away from the precious precocious one gives us pause. And in doing so, we thwart the forward march to societal violence, thus negating the escalation to cultural violence and thereby nipping international violence in the bud.

Single handedly, California (Where it all begins) Democratic Assemblywoman Sally Lieber has brought peace to the world.

No more raised two finger vee shaped signals of solidarity. Quashed will be the dreams of future Miss America contestants who will have to come up with some other dream for the betterment of the human race.

Gone, too, will be the myriad Christmas greetings of Peace on Earth (Good Will Toward Men will most likely be left to some future Assemblyperson).

The anatomically correct Mercedes Benz insignia will be retired once and for all.

I don’t even want to think about what will happen to the environmentally active organization known for sending rubber rafts lurching at megalithic ocean vessels’ name. Will it become GreenCalm? GreenPleasant? Peace will have been achieved so they’ll have to adopt another moniker to keep up with the times.

Mercy me, what’ll happen to the Peace Corps? To say nothing of the Marine Corps.

No war? No armed forces. No armed forces, no G.I. Joe dolls. Toys R Us will go bust. So will Hallmark and American Greetings and their ilk from dwindling sales of greeting cards at Yuletide.

In no time the economic downturn will be spread virtually worldwide and poverty will most assuredly ensue from all the peace roiling around. And we all know lack of funds creates angry desperate people who might stop at nothing to satisfy their needs. They might even become physical in their quest for solvency. They may even purchase the discounted surplus weaponry abandoned by the now extinct military. And use it. On we law abiding mothers and fathers who no longer spank their children for their infractions of the moral code.

And all because of some California Assemblywoman’s lame attempt to criminalize our inherent parental controls over our own errant progeny. All because an elected official was most probably spanked a little too zealously when she was a toddler and now, with elective power in her hands, she has found a platform to dispense retribution.

Payback’s a bitch.

Doomsday Clock.

We’ve got 5 minutes till Armageddon. Five minutes till it’s all over. Nothingness to follow.

So saeth The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists.

In 1947 they created the world’s first and only Doomsday Clock, now residing at the University of Illinois in Chicago. It keeps track of the time left till Midnight: the hour of the Big Atomical Bang.

It has no moving parts other than “Mickey’s Big Hand” which only moves when a human decides it needs to be moved either closer or farther away from the bewitching hour. Why? Ask mathematician Steven Hawking. He moved it forward just the other day.

If, and when, it reaches midnight it means the world, as we know it now, will cease to exist. Poof. Goney Gone. Someone will have pushed all THE BUTTONS.

But now, thanks to this blog, you can get your very own “Get out of Armageddon FREE.” ticket.


It’s free to the first 2,000,073 callers and is good for 30 days after midnight, Armageddon Eve.

After the rest of the population is wiped from the face of the planet, you will immediately notice the improvements.

No more traffic jams. No long lines at the grocery store. No more surly waiters at Denny’s.

You’ll be able to live virtually rent free anywhere that’s vacant. And there will be plenty of vacancies to choose from. Not to mention parking.

Taxes? Not after the end of the world. No fear of audits, either. H & R Block offices will be closed for the duration.

Unclaimed bank accounts will immediately revert to the first to figure out their pin numbers. Off shore accounts and Swiss Bank accounts included.

You’ll be able to choose any new car you want and drive it right off the showroom floor. Speeding tickets? Why, there won’t even be radar.

And it won’t be called looting. Everyting will be free for the taking, like the fruit off the trees. Although, you might not want to eat the fruit off the trees for, maybe, the first few hundred years. Radiation and all, you know. The cows, however, will no longer be angry at us, so we can eat them.

And speaking of radiation, there will be plenty of protective suits available. They’ll be strewn around everywhere. Just look for folks who didn’t get their Daily Blather “Get Out of Armageddon FREE!” ticket. They’ll be the ones prostrate on the ground, glowing.

So, when the call goes out, be one of the first two million and seventy three callers.

Be there or Don’t be here.

Vol 2. No. 1 CHICAGO- Good heaven's, a UFO...'scuse me a UAP - an Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (the new PC word/acronym we all gotta learn/use now)-was sighted hovering about 1500 feet over O'Hare Airport on November 7th! In broad daylight, too.

Pilots, ramp rats (the colloquial name for the guys who mangle our luggage), and other airport and airline personnel spotted the littlle interloper and watched as it whisked itself up, up and away trough the cloud cover, actually leaving a gaping hole where it punched out.

Now, I live in Chitown and really do believe in flying things that cruise around our neck of the spaceywoods and, though I've always wanted to see one, this particular UF...UAP...eluded me.

Seems it eluded everyone else, too.

The FAA didn't know anything about it till a Chicago Tribune writer, Jon Hilkevitch, screamed "Freedom of Information" at them and they admitted to catching wind of quite a few radio transmissions, and such, about something or other around that time. Ain't obfuscation grand?

What I want to know is what everyone wants to know: Why the heck can't anyone get a good, clear, steady, up close, photo or video of one of our extraterrestrial butt-inskies?

We can capture Rodney King's beating, Saddam's send-off, Britney's knickers holder, and even Michael Richards' leap into infamy...but we can't get a jiggleless shot of Mr. Peepers from Mars!

Why they're here in the first place is another question we want answered, too, isn't it?

Food? Water? An intergalactic quickie? Potty stop? Refueling? A Philly cheese steak?

I think they're here looking for something they lost last time they were here.

Their glasses.

Yep. They lost their glasses.

Makes sense. They hover around airports where any idiot in their right mind knows you'll never find anything you've ever lost.

They abduct people and perform all sorts of weird experiments that have nothing to do with science. They can't see what they're operating on so they just browse around internally; and, not finding their specs, send the abductees on their way again often forgetting where they picked them up and just dropping them in the general vacinity.

They follow our astronauts around in orbit possibly thinking the Hubble might house one of their precious lenses...or the work arm of the shuttle might be an earpiece. Maybe size does matter to these beings. Who knows?

It's obvious they can't see because they most certainly would have been scared off by capturing our television emissions of "Jackass" and anything on QVC.

From descriptions abductees have given us they have huge eyes...but no perceptible ears...so listening to Howard Stern or Rush Limbaugh hasn't phased them.

So I'm sticking with "Honey! Have you seen my glasses?"

And I know exactly where they are! Where all things end up...between the cushions!