To the nines?

. . . Perhaps not

British Prime Minister Gordon Brown was recently named the worst-dressed man of the year by the British edition of GQ magazine. No mean feat, since his primary competition was French President Nicolas Sarkozy, British comedian Russell Brand, and "Beautiful Leader" Kim Jong-il.

This in the land of Saville Row, bespoke suits and genteel living? Perhaps he should have taken a clue from . . .

Musings . . .
. . . on a quiet Sunday.

Item the first: It's been cold here all week. Not Omaha cold, mind you, but very chilly for someone who has been in Virginia for seven years. It's been around 30F with very high winds, and will drop to 20F tonight. Positive note - no snow.

Item the second: The guy sitting next to us at the movies last night kept bouncing his feet in time with the music, shaking most of the row of chairs. I hope he had restless leg syndrome or some type of palsy. That would relieve me of the necessity to think of him as a total dickhead.

Item the third: While waiting to pick up the new SUV on Thursday, I was killing time by looking over a $50,000 Mustang Cobra GT500KTR on the showroom floor. While I was standing there, a guy walked up and planted his coffee cup on top of the car so he could open the door and look around. Clod. Didn't your momma learn you no manners?

Item the fourth: I only had to work two days last week and three the week before due to the holidays. Because of Mrs. B's cataract surgery, I only have to work 2-1/2 days this week. I could get used to 2.5 day workweeks. Unfortunately, my bank account would eventually complain.

Item the fifth: Changing bank accounts is a PITA. Especially when one sets up the incorrect account number and one's mortgage agency receives a NSF notice. I fixed it with the bank AND the mortgage agency. No harm done.

Item the sixth: I have a total love-hate relationship with our government's so-called pay for performance job appraisal. Hate because it's an administrative nightmare. Love because I did exceptionally well this year. Hence the new SUV.

Item the seventh: Because it was very cold today, and because I had no errands to run, I made a conscious decision to lounge around in my pajamas all day long, and I did. Call me a layabout. I don't care. I still accomplished all that was necessary.

Item the eighth: I telework from home on Monday, so there's no venturing out in the cold tomorrow. Unfortunately, I'm only allowed one day every two weeks.

Henry the eighth: The last season of "The Tudors" starts this spring. Henry has only two more wives to cheat on. I can't wait to see how it turns out. I'm kidding, of course. I watch PBS, I read books, and I've discussed it with Ian. Although, come to think of it, Ian wasn't exactly straight on the relationship between Elizibeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots. We ironed that out over a half-and-half.

OK, I realize that breaks the sequence, but it IS my sequence after all.

Item the ninth: Captain Kirk, I am, I am. (with apologies to Peter Noone). Rember when Kirk - or one of the crew - would say "Computer . . ."? Well, I can do that. The new SUV has a voice-operated "Sync" system by Microsoft. When I punch a switch on the steering wheel, a conversation starts - hands free through a mic in the SUV:

Sync: "Please say a command"
Me: "Phone"
Sync: "Please say a command"
Me: "Call Home"
Sync: "Calling Home"

It connects with my Bluetooth phone and calls home. I converse hands-free, and never have to touch the phone.

Sync also uses voice control for USB devices and other inputs. Maybe I finally need an iPOD?

Item the tenth: Since my hair is practically non-existant cut very short, I bought one of these. Do you think it's too retro?

Tomorrow's a workday. . . and my birthday. Unfortunately, they coincide. Kirk out.

Sherlock Holmes?

. . . a pity, my dear Watson.

Mrs. B and I wandered out in the Saturday evening cold to see Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law make an attempt at Holmes and Watson.

Bad idea.

It proved a feeble attempt.

This Guy Ritchie film (didn't he used to be Mr. Madonna?) recast Downey's Holmes as a down-sized, Victorian Arnold Swarzenegger, and Law's Watson as a Kato-esque sidekick (pun intended.)

A shirtless Holmes in a bareknuckle pit fight? Kicking ass and taking names? Watson subduing a 400 lbs French giant with some type of Gracie juijutsu choke hold? Please!

Yep, it was all there - along with thundering explosions, slashing swords, gunfights, un-ending fisticuffs and a hand-to-hand duel atop the yet unfinished Tower Bridge.

I'm guessing our great unwashed, unread youth will flock to this one, but Downey is not MY Sherlock Holmes. In the great authors' home in the sky, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle must be mixing a 20% solution, for 2% will be much too weak to block this travesty from his brain.

The movie set itself up for a sequel, but I don't care. I won't be seeing it.

Basil Rathbone is MY Sherlock Holmes.

Robert Downey Jr. will never be.

Tailgating . . .

. . . redux?

A driver with a history of seizures crashed through a reversable-lane gate and hit a woman head-on. Both drivers died.

The driver of the van saw the car coming the wrong way, steered into the Jersey wall and was just sideswiped. Frances Wilson, following behind the van, didn't have time to react, and was hit head on at a closing velocity of about 120 mph. She didn't have a chance.

I guess I can't call this tailgating, and I'm certainly not faulting Ms. Wilson. Unfortunately, she was following a large van, and had limited vision ahead. I guess the object lesson is that one needs to be able to see hundreds of yards ahead when travelling at speed.

I NEVER follow anything that blocks my view ahead. If I can't see around it, I either pass it or drop way back.

It reminds me of a time years ago when Mrs. B and I were leaving Peoria, IL. As we crossed the 4-lane Illinois river bridge, a driver passed us going the wrong way. He WAS in the right-hand lane and missed us, but both lanes were SUPPOSED to be going the other way. The last I saw of him, he was heading off the bridge onto the downtown freeway.

I feel so sorry for Ms. Wilson's family. She was doing nothing wrong, but still was taken out by someone else's carelessness.

The fragility of life is scary sometimes.

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.