More Blogging!

Gerry's Corner: Hello again, dear friends. I'm so glad to be with you all in this fascinating world of cyberspace. I never got to go to space as president, but if this simulation of it is anything like the real thing, then I've got to admit to some disappointment. I'm not floating, for instance, and my tub of ice cream doesn't taste like freeze-dried cardboard. Maybe the moon landing was a hoax. But I do feel like an astronaut a bit today, because I ducked out of one of my scheduled appointments with my so-called "doctors" so I could blog to y'all. First off, I want to wish an extremely happy half-birthday to my third cousin (twice removed), Charity Nebbe! Happy half-birthday, Charity! Not-Betty talked with her last night by phone to extend the same wishes, but I think my way of doing it - on the internet - is far and away cooler. Charity, according to Not-Betty, sounded kind of tired. She'd just gotten back from...Ford Hall, my new name for the Ford School's new building. I don't care who donated what, it's my place, dammit. Sanford Weill and his wife can have my presidential library on North Campus if they want their name stuck to something. Anyway, Charity wasn't there to do reconaissance for me or anything (though she mentioned that my portrait is up in the Great Room now, which is a relief, and high enough on the wall so that no one can paint curlicue moustaches on my face, which is an even bigger relief). She was there to moderate a discussion between the two candidates for the Michigan Senate seat, Sheriff Mike Bouchard and Senator Debbie Stabenow. Now, you might think that these two would slug it out in the same room at the same time, but apparently, they hate each other so much that they can't even be within several yards of each other without pouncing upon each other and attacking like wild animals, ripping limb from limb with their teeth and cunning. Instead, they went one after the other.



Charity was exhausted, it turns out, from having to listen to the candidates dance around the questions that the panel of students asked. That's right - Charity could ask the occasional follow-up, but she mostly was required to rely on students to do the talking. I mean, can you believe that? No wonder our media is in the pits these days - they censor the real journalists and let children ask questions. "What's your favorite color, Senator Stabenow?" "Have you ever shot a man, Sheriff Bouchard?" "If you could only have one kind of food for every meal for the rest of your life, would your stance on affirmative action be?" That sort of thing. I hope no students show up to my building dedication - ugh. Thank god none of my children are in school anymore. They got smart and graduated. What is a university, after all, but a place for buildings to be named after worthy people? After that, I don't much care what goes on there.

All of my remaining friends who are alive invited me out to a bunch of places that seem extremely fun this weekend - tonight, there's extreme bridge; tomorrow, part-ay at the discothèque in town; Sunday, a snowball-like fight with apples down at the orchard. But you know me - I'm married now, and thus am Absolutely No Fun (it's been that way for quite some time, according to my records), so I'll probably just stay at home on my couch with the shades drawn and watch whatever show is being broadcast in marathon form. Maybe I'll check out the broadcast of Charity's moment in the spotlight on Friday evening to see what she was complaining about. Poor girl - no one should have to spend their half-birthday getting tortured like that (unless they're a suspicious character being held at Guantanamo).

Uh-oh! Heart's acting up - better go actually see that doctor, I suppose.

There is no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe,
Gerry