Woodstock, Mona Lisa, Red Squirrels and a Jewish Lament

The closest I got to Woodstock was marrying a woman who had a ticket to the 1969 three day festival but chose not to attend. 

With three of her friends Gilda bought $18 tickets to the transcendental festival after seeing a poster in Greenwich Village near where she worked for Hartz Mountain during the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Brooklyn College. Delores, Karen and Gilda would travel upstate to Bethel, NY, in Barbara’s car as she was the only one with a driver’s license and a car. 

This was nearly a half year before I showed up on Gilda’s radar, or she on mine, so the fact that she was madly infatuated with another young man at the time was not a cause of concern to me. During the summer of 1969 I was enjoying another splendid eight weeks as a division head in a sleepaway camp, Kfar Masada, in Rensselaerville, NY. 

As fate would have it, Gilda’s longing for a date with her heartthrob came to fruition on the same weekend as the Woodstock concert. She chose amour over music, sold her ticket, and bid her friends happy times.

They never made it to Yasgur’s farm. Traffic, overwhelming traffic, kept them and tens of thousands others from reaching their destination. Her friends pulled off Route 17 and found a church to sleep in on the floor. They went home the second day of the concert. 

As you undoubtedly figured out, Gilda’s love interest failed to reciprocate. Our paths crossed, repeatedly, during the next school semester. We began dating in December 1969. Yes, 1969 was a very good year.

Mona Lisa, Mon Amour: August used to be a good time to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. Parisians generally exit the city during August, leaving tourists to contend just with ... tourists. But these days there’s an abundance of tourists—the Louvre attracted a record 10.2 million gawkers last year, way more than any other museum, anywhere—meaning time spent staring at Mona Lisa’s eyes can be no more than the equivalent of a drive-by encounter, especially now that the Leonardo da Vinci portrait has been moved to temporary quarters 

(https://nyti.ms/2MeyNdn).

I’ve gazed upon the Mona Lise several times, the first being in August 1966 when I was 17 and visiting Paris for the first time. Accompanied by my cousin’s then husband, a struggling painter who spoke no English while I, despite two years of high school instruction, knew barely enough French to ask which way to the library (“Ou est la bibliotheque”), made my way through hall after hall of the Louvre. No doubt I passed by many works by renowned masters. Sadly, I couldn’t take advantage of my companion’s expert commentary. But as I wandered around the Louvre, mostly oblivious to the treasures before me, he did manage to point out the Venus de Milo standing amidst other statues, and, after I had walked past it, he brought me back to view the Mona Lisa. Back then she was treated like any other painting, hanging nondescriptly on a wall with other works of art. 

Red Scare: I spent more than a few minutes today, I sheepishly admit, entranced by the efforts of a grey squirrel to negotiate around a large inverted plastic funnel designed to prevent the rodent and his brethren from gaining access to the bird food I assiduously hang from trees in my side yard. Most of the time the enterprising squirrel backs away or falls to the ground without clutching the suspended cage holding the desired food. If he is successful, I shoo him away, admonishing him that the food is intended for the feathered, not the bushy tailed. 

The attempted incursion is mild compared to what is going on across the pond. Seems North American grey squirrels have taken over the British landscape and are threatening the existence of native born red squirrels, a more genteel species popularized in children’s books. The reds are about half the size of their trans-Atlantic cousins who are more aggressive food gatherers and who carry a disease the reds cannot withstand. 

It’s gotten so bad that in parts of the United Kingdom bounty hunters have been hired to kill grey squirrels. It’s a scenario a nativist like Donald Trump would embrace to safeguard against an unwanted immigrant horde (https://https://apple.news/A78Qbg70wT8-GP4bZSxE-nA).

Oy, Vey Ist Mir: If you are of a certain age and Jewish, there’s an ethnic ritual your parents practiced on you. Whenever a person of distinction, be he or she an entertainment celebrity, a scientist, a professional athlete, a politician, or any position, even a hoodlum, that brought you into the public eye, your parents would point out if they were Jewish. Younger readers may recognize what I am referring to if they are familiar with Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah song that highlights members of the tribe. 

Of course, not every high profile Jew elicited pangs of pride. Mobster Meyer Lansky was no source of chest thumping, though he did make life difficult for the pro-Nazi German-American Bund before World War II. Neither was Bernie Madoff a short time ago. And Jeffrey Epstein has clouded Jewish skies of late. Oy, the shame of it all. 

I’ve seen too many episodes of Homeland to categorically discount conspiracy theories surrounding how he was able to allegedly commit suicide in a federal lockup. I’m not willing to name whom I think might be behind Epstein’s demise, but I would definitely grill all the security guards at the Manhattan Metropolitan Correctional Center. Someone(s) had to be paid off. The key, as it was in Watergate, “Follow the money.” Someone is going to start spending dollars way beyond their pay grade. It might take years before the urge to splurge surfaces, but it will. It always does. 

News Updates: Kavanaugh, Living in a Bubble, Trump's Week, Building a Name and Wiring Rod

Brewski Anyone? As Brett Kavanaugh takes a seat on the Supreme Court consider how awkward it will be at day’s end, any day’s end, when someone, perhaps Kavanaugh himself, suggests unwinding with a beer or two…

The continental political and social divide the country finds itself in is difficult to fully fathom until one encounters real-life proof that the respective sides live in distinctive bubbles with little chance they will meld together.  

Case in point: Recently Gilda met a Harvard law school graduate. A resident of the Washington, DC, metro, he related that he grew up in Kentucky. Yet, upon earning his law degree and returning to his home town he found the region preferred lawyers with social ties rather than legal scholarship. Fitting in was more important than knowledge. 

Gilda and I encountered the same primitive mindset more than four decades ago when we moved to Connecticut. Connecticut had an aura of being a state populated by sophisticated, educated residents. Home to headquarters of Fortune 500 companies. 

But there were plenty of factory workers, as well. Trouble was, in the Lower Naugatuck Valley where I was assigned as a reporter for The New Haven Register, hard times had befallen the workers who toiled in the brass mills of Seymour, Derby, Ansonia, Shelton and surrounding towns. Factories cut back production, laid off workers or closed down completely. Still, the dream of most fathers was to have their sons join them straight out of high school on the assembly line. Few aspired for an education-based escape from the Valley. 

Gilda’s acquaintance went on to detail his Kentucky education. The Civil War, he explained, was called the War Between the States as the teacher said it had everything to do with states’ rights and nothing, nothing to do with slavery. Indeed, slavery was not discussed. The war was hardly studied. Students learned about a few battles won by the South. Imagine his consternation upon being exposed in college and law school to the full historical record.  

Unable to find a job in Kentucky, he took his Harvard law degree to Washington.

Alternative facts. Fake News. Outright lies. When the assault on truth comes directly from the White House it reinforces provincial attitudes that are in conflict with principles of equality and tolerance.

The Week That Was: Whatever it was—a napkin or toilet paper—stuck to Donald Trump’s shoe and clearly visible as he ascended the stairs to Air Force One last Thursday, the embarrassment was palpable, the humor undeniable. He surely can blame an inattentive staff, or maybe Deep State conspirators, for the humiliation seen around the world (could the Deep State really have infiltrated his bathroom, or his dining area?). The trail of paper was as bad as when a wind gust last February swirled through his combover exposing his scalp as he climbed stairs into Air Force One.  

Then there were the optics of Melania’s trip to Africa. Ordinarily, dispensing much needed books to schoolchildren would result in laudable coverage. But the very educational programs Melania was endorsing in Malawi have come under attack by her isolationist husband who has disparaged African countries and who wants to cut aid to them. In one of its few acts of spine and resistance Congress rejected Trump’s budget cuts (https://www.cnn.com/2018/10/08/politics/melania-trump-africa-trip-wrap/index.html).  

Perhaps the unkindest but appropriate cut of all, Trump was denied the Nobel peace prize he so desperately covets. Rather than award his still vague peace and denuclearization overture with North Korea, the Nobel was given to Denis Mukwege of the Democratic Republic of Congo and Nadia Murad of Iraq for their efforts to end the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war and armed conflict. 

How ironic that sexual violence was the dominant theme in the United States last week. Regardless of your opinion on the veracity of Christine Blasey Ford’s claim of sexual assault by Kavanaugh (Trump has moved from saying her testimony was “credible” to her being part of a Democratic “hoax” to discredit Kavanaugh), it is clear that gender relations will be a more hot button election issue in November than the economy, taxes, foreign relations and health care.   

Trump’s campaign for a peace prize, this year or in the future, probably took a hit with his addresses at the United Nations. It took a high degree of chutzpah to stand at the podium of a world organization dedicated to peaceful coexistence and shared values and spout selfish bromides. 

Trump likes to project toughness and a singular focus on America First. He did that to the approval, no doubt, of his base and even to many who liked his no-nonsense non diplomatic rhetoric. How refreshing for them to hear candor at the UN where obfuscation and deceit are practiced arts. 

The UN is the ultimate global entity. Trump all but tore up its charter before the world’s eyes. Patriotism, not globalism, was his mantra. Inside your borders do what you wish as long as you don’t impinge on America’s self interests. 

You could visualize tyrants the world over smiling. The world’s policeman, the country that had corralled their basest instincts, was hanging up its night stick. Abandoning its beat. Throwing away its handcuffs in favor of a free-for-all posture as long as you said nice things about its orange-faced, golden-locked leader. Play to his ego, not his humanitarian sensibilities. 

Okay. Through our archaic political process we elected Trump to a four year term. He can legally reverse the course of U.S. history and with it the future of the world. 

But only so far as we the people enable him. November will be the first referendum on America’s choice for tomorrow. 

Building a Name: If Democrats gain control of the Senate, this year or in some future election, they should move to rename the Russell office building for the recently deceased Senator John McCain. 

Never mind that McCain was a Republican. He was a strong symbol of integrity and patriotism. Though a Democrat, Richard Russell embodied the white suprematist, racist attitudes current among Republicans. Russell served before Southern Democrats converted en masse to Republicans. 

By initiating the renaming of the building, as minority leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) has proposed, Democrats would be sending a message of unity, though to be honest, those who support Trump and his distaste for McCain, would not welcome such an action. To them Russell is an icon. 

The Wire: Lost among all the excitement surrounding Kavanaugh was the postponed meeting between Trump and deputy attorney general Rod Rosenstein. 

Rosenstein, who oversees special counsel Robert Mueller’s probe into Russian interference in the 2016 election and more, has at various times been accused of wearing a recording device while with Trump. The New York Times also reported several weeks ago he entertained the idea of organizing cabinet secretaries to invoke the 25th Amendment to remove Trump from the presidency. Rosenstein has denied both allegations.

If ever there was a time for Rosenstein to wear a wire, that postponed meeting with Trump would be the day.

Even though Trump has recently said he is not ready to fire Rosenstein, the dissembler-in-chief is not a credible communicator (see above about his thoughts on Blasey Ford). 

So Rosenstein’s tenure toehold seems to be more precarious with each passing day. An announcement of his departure, never officially distributed, was even prepared for dissemination by the Justice Department on the presumption the meeting with Trump was going to occur, according to the Daily Mail (https://dailym.ai/2OU2iiF). 

Rosenstein is in a seemingly can’t-win situation. Trump has long wanted him out so someone more to his liking can be installed to control Mueller. So what has he got to lose by wearing a wire so he can capture Trump in his firing element?

Now, we’ve all watched Homeland, Mission Impossible and other thrillers that rely on high-tech listening and speaking devices embedded on a body so as to be non detectable. Surely Rosenstein knows intelligence officials, current or former, who would be willing and able to outfit him for sound. Heck, maybe even Mueller’s team would be a possible link-up option. 

Hooray for ISIS! It's Not What You Think

Lets go ISIS! Before you get all worked up and think I’ve gone over to the dark side, let me assure you I am not advocating for Islamic terrorists. Rather, I am rooting for my latest stock acquisition, Isis Pharmaceuticals (NASDAQ: ISIS).

I was dumbstruck when my broker called four weeks ago suggesting Isis for my portfolio. Who knew there was a drugmaker unfortunate enough to share a name with a most vile organization whose idea of pain relief is to lop off one’s head? Anyway, I trust Annette to do the right thing so I approved the purchase at $49.74 a share. When she called Friday to secure approval for an additional purchase, Isis shares had already jumped to $65.09. 

You can talk to your own financial advisor about Isis, but make sure you note you’re inquiring about the pharmaceutical company, not the Islamic State. 

Gilda and I saw the Stephen Hawking biopic The Theory of Everything last week. Extraordinary performance as Hawking by Eddie Redmayne, but more to the point, how can one not feel inconsequential after seeing Hawking overcome adversity that easily would defeat even the most resilient and strong? Hard to say, “I can’t” after observing his travails and his success.

Speaking of movies, and overcoming troubles, Exodus; Gods and Kings is on my must see list, not because it received great reviews (it didn’t) but rather to see how Hollywood messed with a good (not great) picture, 1956’s The Ten Commandments. As filmdom again has discovered with the less than fanciful new Annie, remakes most often are not worth the updated time and effort (though, to be truthful, the Cecil B. DeMille-Charlton Heston-Yul Brynner Ten Commandments was a talkie version of the director’s 1923 silent screen epic). 

I’ve previously acknowledged my devotion to Davy Crockett so I was thrilled to see Turner Classic Movies, in a deal with Disney, will be airing tonight the Fess Parker Disneyfication of his life. But it will be important to remember some Davy Crockett truths, as reported here some three and a half years ago:

According to a biography by Chris Wallis, Crockett was an illegal immigrant to Texas who wound up at the Alamo not by choice but through assignment by those fomenting rebellion against Mexico, the rightful owner of Texas. 

Though Parker’s portrayed Crockett as humble, Wallis noted he was not above self-promotion, even attending a play about his exploits. 

Crockett was sympathetic to Native Americans, but apparently not to the plight of Afro-Americans. He served two terms in the U.S. Congress, only to be swept out of office after he broke with President Andrew Jackson for the latter’s treatment of the Cherokee Nation and their forced removal from Tennessee land granted them by treaty. 

Crockett went to Mexico-owned Texas to help American settlers who wanted to build plantations worked by slaves. Only trouble is, Mexico did not permit slavery. At age 49, Crockett died at the Alamo in San Antonio. He did not choose to go to the Alamo. He had joined the local militia and had been assigned to defend the mission. 

Sticking to the entertainment theme, the literary world and by extension the film and TV industries are lucky the Internet wasn’t around 150 or 100 or even 50 years ago. Otherwise, we might not have the spy novels of John LeCarre who demonized the Russian KGB. Or we wouldn’t have Charlie Chaplin’s 1940 spoof of Hitler, The Great Dictator. Or the 1939 Warner Bros. flick, Confessions of a Nazi Spy. 

Those books and movies, and many, many more would not have been produced and distributed if executives followed Sony’s example of acquiescence to North Korea’s demand to shelve The Interview, a farce about an assassination plot against the country’s leader. 

Yes, Sony has been damaged by North Korea’s violation of Sony’s Internet integrity. But giving in to North Korea damages our collective freedom. What is to stop Pakistan, upset by its Homeland portrayal as being complicit with Taliban attacks, from issuing a similar demand to Showtime and its cable partners? 

And where do the threats end? Can North Korea effectively blacklist The Interview stars Seth Rogen and James Franco from any other movie project, for any other studio? With so many action films and video games depicting Muslims as the enemy, could Arab states threaten retaliation, economic if not physical?

North Korea threatened a violent response to any airing of The Interview. But if we have learned anything from 9-11 and its aftermath, it is that our best response to such threats is to go about our normal business and way of life. Be cautious, but do not cower. Stay away from the movie theater, if you so choose, but that choice should be made by everyone individually, not collectively on our behalf by a corporation. 

American policy has been not to negotiate with terrorists, with hostage takers. North Korea took all of our minds and freedom hostage, and for now, has won.

Torture as a Tool of the Trade

Spoiler alert—for those who might not have watched the latest episode of Homeland, there’s a scene wherein CIA black-ops agent Peter Quinn takes a Pakistani operative into a safe location to unofficially “interrogate” him as to the whereabouts of a top terrorist who has just masterminded an invasion of the U.S. embassy in Islamabad that killed nearly 40 Americans. We’re given a quick view of a table laid out with tools of the counterintelligence trade, sharp reminders that gathering secret information is not always a clean, antiseptic affair. Next Sunday we will find out if and how Quinn extracted the info he is seeking, and how he will leave the operative, dead or alive.

It’s a TV show, but I seriously doubt more than a handful of viewers want Quinn to show restraint. A bullet to the head at the end of the “enhanced interrogation” is what they, really we, want. Revenge, plus the elimination of threats to our people, our way of life. 

The real-life debate on how to deal with terrorism suspects is on with the Tuesday release of the Senate Intelligence Committee’s report on CIA methods and effectiveness in post-September 11 America. By nature, I’m against torture. Wouldn’t want it done to me, or for me. But there’s always that nagging suspicion inside me that if time were a factor, if the “ticking bomb” scenario surfaced, I’d be okay with being less than above board (can you say, “waterboard”) with anyone who might have information to help us thwart an attack that would take lives.  

Let’s put legality aside. CIA apologists say the Justice Department green-lighted their activities. Of course, that’s like Nazi thugs hiding behind the Nuremberg Laws to justify their slaughter of innocents. I’ll leave it to the lawyers to parse the validity of the legal standing CIA agents and their contract players had in handling prisoners suspected of having information vital to our national safety.

It’s the moral compass of our country (and other democracies) that is at stake, a heading that cannot help but be directed by popular culture that shows Jack Bauer saving the U.S. in 24 hours, or 007 having an open license to kill on our behalf. 

Torture or not to torture. Common decency and humanity says not to. But our enemies are not decent. They are inhumane. So I’m stuck in a limbo of practicality vs. idealism. Obama campaigned on a platform of government transparency, an end to torture, the closing of Guantanamo. Geopolitical realities intercepted his follow-through. He’s become the drone president. 

I can’t condone torture, but I know it has been done and most probably will continue to be done on behalf of my safety and that of my fellow citizens. I reject the notion that we are more vulnerable because the Senate committee released its report. Fanatics will target us regardless. 

We are safer for the use of torture, but less the shining beacon of freedom we project as our image. Hypocritical, I know. But to many it’s a comfort to know our vigilance knows no bounds in a world where increasingly there are no boundaries on misbehavior. 

Wheels of Misfortune, Real-Time Homeland, Hipsters, MOM's to the Rescue

The wheel is a marvelous invention, surely one of the main reasons civilization has advanced from the cave. But a wheeled snow shovel? As far as I am concerned, I might as well still be a Neanderthal.

I had so been looking forward to a slight snowfall to test-drive my new wheeled snow shovel. I was disappointed to hear rain tapping against our bathroom skylight when I woke up in the middle of the night. But when the alarm went off this morning I was rewarded with a light, white covering on the driveway and walkway. Even before eating breakfast I eagerly unhinged my new toy from the hook it was hanging from in the garage. 

A total disaster. I won’t bore you with details of either my ineptitude or the poor design of the shovel. The only consolation is the friendly customer service rep said she would send a mailing label so I wouldn’t be charged for return freight and I didn’t even need the original invoice which came with the shovel. Good thing, because I can’t find it. 

I’m really bummed. The shovel had looked so easy to use in the promotional video I watched on line. Ah, well ...

Homeland Update: Ever wonder what a real life Carrie Anderson, the CIA agent/analyst trying to uncover a turncoat American serviceman, would look like? She’d more likely resemble a grandmother than the fetching Claire Danes of the Showtime program Homeland, if one goes by the picture of the woman who spearheaded the effort to find a mole inside the CIA, the notorious Aldrich Ames. 

Jeanne Vertefeuille died December 29. She was 80. For those who missed her obituary in Sunday’s NY Times, here’s a link. It’s a fascinating story of dedication, reminding us that truth is often more engrossing than fiction (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/13/us/jeanne-vertefeuille-who-helped-catch-aldrich-ames-dies-at-80.html?_r=0).

Connected at the Hip: During a profile aired on CBS Sunday Morning a few days ago, Scarlett Johansson was asked if she feels any older, now that she’s been married and divorced. “No,” responded the 28-year-old actress. “I feel wiser, maybe. I only feel older in my right hip. But I’m attributing that to Marvel" (for whom she plays the Black Widow in the Avengers comic book-inspired film series).

The morning I turned 35, I woke up with a pain of unknown origin in my right hip. It went away pretty quickly, but I always wondered why my body sent out a ping of rebellion, considering I do not angst over birthdays. Seven weeks from today I’ll celebrate another birthday, the one immortalized by the Beatles (64, for those who have no idea what I’m talking about).

MOM’s to the Rescue: Advertising works. I made a nice living on that premise. But not all advertising is appropriate, especially when targeted to influence those who cannot always discern the hidden messages being sent their way. 

Accordingly, MOM’s Organic Market, a Washington-Baltimore based regional grocer, is taking off its shelves all packaging that features cartoon characters from children’s books, films and television, even those from educational TV like Elmo and Dora the Explorer.

The 10-store family owned retailer can hardly hope to influence the national market, especially when adults have to be willing and knowledgeable participants. Last month I bought Finley a drinking cup with a race car floating in its base. I thought it was cute and would make meal-time fun. Little did I realize the car was a licensed product of the movie Cars; the suspended auto was the star, Lightning McQueen. Even though 3-year-old Finley had not seen the movie, he knew the character. 

In my defense, I’m a grandparent. Aren’t we supposed to spoil our grandkids? Still, I agree with Susan Linn, Director of the Campaign for a Commercial Free Childhood, who said, "Using beloved media characters to sell kids on a particular brand of food is wrong, even if it's healthy food. Children should not be trained to pick foods based on the cartoon on the box” (or, I might add, the car in the cup). 

Homeland and Other Worries

So here's my problem with Showtime’s Homeland, now that Gilda and I are watching the DVD of the first season. The suspected Al Qaeda plot the CIA and FBI are investigating—a sniper attack against the president as he leaves or boards his Marine One helicopter at Reagan National Airport—is based on erroneous fact. Air Force One, the only plane the president flies in, does not use Reagan. It flies in and out of Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, nowhere near the Virginia house Abu Nasir's terrorist cell bought and planned to use in their assassination attempt because its roof has a direct view of the helicopter landing pad at Reagan. 

There are no doubt other points we could dissect but this one is troubling. You'd think the CIA and FBI would know the president doesn't use Reagan National Airport. Maybe the dilemma is cleared up in the last two episodes of season one which we hope to view this weekend. I hope so, because otherwise I really like this show and can’t wait for the second season DVD to become available.

Fox Hunting: Homeland's plot arc has a former prisoner of war suspected by a CIA agent of being a sleeper terrorist turned by Al Qaeda during his eight years of captivity. Marine Sergeant Nicholas Brady is elected to Congress, where he can wreak havoc from within the political system. My niece in England sent me a link to an article in the Guardian about Rupert Murdoch’s failed attempt to co-opt the American presidential race from within. 

It's by Carl Bernstein who has experience in these matters (for those too young to know, he’s the Bernstein of Woodward and Bernstein of Watergate reporting fame). Here are two links, the first to Bernstein’s article (http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/dec/20/bernstein-murdoch-ailes-petreaus-presidency), the second to the actual voice tape of the conversation between General Petraeus and K.T. McFarland of Fox News referred to by Bernstein that was obtained by Bob Woodward. Keep in mind this conversation happened a year before Petraeus’ downfall from his alleged affair

(http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/petraeus-in-2011-fox-news-interview-im-not-running-for-president/2012/12/03/c0aa0c72-3d6d-11e2-a2d9-822f58ac9fd5_video.html). 

Signature Moment: Ordinary Americans always strive to identify with their politicians. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Whatever. My point is, the brouhaha over Treasury Secretary nominee Jacob J. Lew’s signature—a series of connected loops looking much like a Slinky on its side—has me identifying directly with the man whose scrawl would appear on all paper currency should he be confirmed by the Senate.

I for one can’t find fault with his illegible writing. Mine is what I call my executive signature, stroked so quickly that only, and just barely at that, can you make out the “M” of my first name. Sometimes when I sign legal documents I slow down, but that causes a problem, as when I go to the bank to gain access to our safety deposit box. I can never remember which signature I am supposed to match. 

My poor penmanship must be in my genes, for Dan as well has a signature where only the “D” is legible. I used to think Ellie’s signature was decipherable, but since she got married and changed her middle and last names, she too has channeled me, and I know what she’s supposed to be writing. 

Blame, or Praise, Me: If you're wondering why there hasn't been any snow this month, I have an explanation. In my quest for the perfect snow shovel I recently bought a wheeled shovel, good for up to six inches of flakes. I eagerly awaited the next snowfall to test out my purchase. 

Naturally the power(s) to be have thwarted my ability to test drive this model by spritzing rain on us versus snow. I hope you all appreciate this gift I have given you, unless, of course, you like shoveling snow and skidding along on snow-covered streets.

Recalls From Hell: Here are headlines over press releases you really don’t want to have to issue if you run a company:

“Columbia Sportswear Reannounces Its Recall of Batteries Sold With Jackets Due To Fire Hazard”

“High-Pressure Scuba Diving Air Hoses Recalled by A-Plus Marine Due to Drowning Hazard”