New Ride . . .

. . . for the new year.

It may be silly to take a brand new vehicle to drive around on the narrow streets of Naples, Italy, but I was concerned about our Explorer's reliability for another three years with no Ford repair shops around.

The Escape is smaller, gets better gas mileage, and will only be used on road trips. We'll be looking for a beater for daily use when we get there. My report date to Italy now looks like about 15 APR.

We pick it up tomorrow.

Myopia . . .

. . . or ignorance?

WASHINGTON – Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano says investigators did not have enough information to keep a terror suspect from boarding a flight bound for Detroit and that the system worked as it should have.

Janet, sweetie, NOTHING worked.

Not screening, not intel, not databases.

Nothing.

Not even the bomb, which is why you were able to make that completely inane statement.

Ironically, he wasn't a "disgruntled military veteran" or a "right-wing extremist."

This just in:

A day after saying the system worked, Napolitano backtracked, saying her words had been taken out of context.

"Our system did not work in this instance," she said on NBC's "Today" show. "No one is happy or satisfied with that. An extensive review is under way."

Definition of "taken out of context:" I screwed up, but I'm not about to admit it.

Christmas dinner . . .

. . . at Bulldog's kennel.

Turkey breast, green beans, mashed potatoes, crescent rolls, cornbread stuffing and frozen salad. We even got out the Spode and the Waterford. I cooked the turkey. Mrs. B did the rest. She did an amazing job.

Mission . . .

. . . Accomplished!

By Ian, that is. Whilst visiting Omaha for Lisa's wedding, Ian and I proved to be abject failures at creating one version of a black & tan. That notwithstanding, the failures were truly enjoyable, because a failed black & tan is either a half & half OR, another version of a black & tan. How can one lose?

Nonetheless, we both were determined to make the "real thing." Ian succeeded first - primarily because I sent him a clever little device.

No, not the custom bent spoon. We tried that, and had more failures to drink. The device is made by Bass, is called a "Brolly," and it works perfectly.

I'm not sure that "perfectly" involves a pale ale from New York, but I'm feeling charitable tonight. After all, he did use a proper stout.

Tailgating . . .

. . . is not socially acceptable - or safe, for that matter.

(BLOGNOTE: Brokeback Mountain coments will be ignored)

Little missy (hereinafter, THAT BITCH or TB) - who has the age to drive, but not the requisite common sense - is hanging her Mustang about 10 feet off my back bumper. This would not be a problem if we were stopped in a parking lot or sitting at a traffic signal. Unfortunately, that which is acceptable in a parking lot is not as much so on the interstate.

Moving at 65 MPH.

In traffic.

During rush hour.

TB has no place else to go, as all the other lanes were full and moving at the same speed, but somehow she JUST HAS TO GET 10 FEET FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD AT ALL COSTS! After all, at 65 mph, 10 feet will save her a full 105 milliseconds.

That is, unless TB plants her Mustang in my trunk.

What to do, what to do?

Tap the brakes without slowing down. Mild signal. Ignored. Still 10 feet back.

Tap the brakes without slowing down. Gentle wave. Ignored. Still 10 feet back.

Slow down significantly, but safely. A bit startled, TB moves back to about 50 feet.

Solved, I think.

Not so. I'm back to speed. TB is back to 10 feet.

Enough of this game. If I'm going to get rammed, it will be at a slower speed.

Another significant (but safe) slow down, accompanied by a stern wave to move the F**K back.

TB finally has had enough. Zooms into the next lane.

Good move, except that lane slows down, and TB is going losing ground, not gaining.

I am mildly amused.

A couple of miles down the road, TB finally passes me - two lanes over. She has now gained back her 105 milliseconds, and is apparently going insane. Screaming, waving, one-finger salute, pounding on her window.

Me, I'm laughing my ass off.

She doesn't like that either, and goes apoplectic - best I can tell.

Tough.

Better . . .

. . . and better.

Just trying . . .

. . . to be helpful.

So, I'm walking through Kohls when a woman dropped one of the "unmentionables" she was carrying to checkout.

Perhaps I could have thought of a better phrase than: "Pardon me, ma'am, but you dropped your panties."

Perhaps not.