Syrupy Tales of Election Day, Pancakes

It started as either a clever plan to instill the importance of participating in our democracy in my children or a hankering for butter pecan syrup. 

Since my two children, now 20 and 18, were old enough to stand still for a minute in the voting booth, we have followed an Election Day ritual: Wake up on the first Tuesday of November, cruise to the polling place in the minivan to cast my ballot, and then head out for a breakfast feast. The IHOP is our usual destination — owing to that aforementioned jonesing of mine. My family rarely went there in my youth, but its steep royal blue roof had been such a familiar sight to me over five decades, at least from a car window, that it seemed a perfectly stable and secure spot for building a lifetime memory along with a customized pancake combo. 

Blogger Makes America Grate Again

Note the location.

The people love me. LOVE. Some say I'm the most popular blogger ever. Tremendously popular. So popular that I had to hire my own press secretary to deal with the attention. Here's a transcript of his first press conference.

Lost in Political Translations

The leaves have started changing colors all around us so that means the nuts have started falling out of the trees and into campaigns for elected office.

With so many prestigious titles up for grabs this year (governor, U.S. representative, most likely to get snarled in a sexting scandal), the voting public needs to fully understand just what the heck these would-be office-holders stand for. You'll hear or read a whole of mess of sound bites filled with buzzwords from candidates over the next few weeks, so I'm providing the following guide as a public service to help you understand exactly what these folks are saying out of both sides of their mouths:

What Me, Blacklisted?

If you read my post at DadCentric Tuesday, you know that I overexerted myself a bit the other week at my kids' soccer practices. (If you didn't read it, click over to "Kids are a Pain" now. I'll wait.)

The irony of this is that I'm not supposed to be coaching soccer at all this season. I was blacklisted by the league.

My crime? Verbal abuse of the referees? Climbing into the stands to hit a parent? Putting steroids in the halftime juice boxes?

Nope. I had a few choice exchanges with the league's directors last year and I used some inappropriate words.

They were "50 percent refund."

Three of the seven games my daughter's team played one season were won by forfeit because the other team didn't have enough players show. The eighth game, for the championship, was canceled because the league assigned someone else to our field. So, being the accountant's son that I am, I asked the league to give my team's parents half their money back.

I e-mailed them three times with my request before someone finally responded. That was only after I might have casually mentioned calling the city parks department and team sponsors about reconsidering their support for the league.

Anyway, six minutes after I hit the "send" button on the third missive, my phone rang.

It was an enlightening discussion that went something like this:

LEAGUE BIGWIG: We don't refund money to players. They're children.

ME: Good thing. They'd probably spend it on cheap whiskey, angel dust and chicken nuggets. That's why I requested you refund my players' parents. It's in the e-mail. All three of them.

LEAGUE BIGWIG: You said your last game was a playoff. That age bracket isn't supposed to have playoffs.

ME: I don't care what you call it. It was a game on the schedule you gave us that wasn't played because of your scheduling mistake.

LEAGUE BIGWIG: But it wasn't a playoff. That league is not supposed to have playoffs.

ME: Whatever. I had one parent cut a weekend trip short to bring their kid to a game that didn't occur because a schedule you issued us three months ago was wrong.

LEAGUE BIGWIG: But it wasn't a playoff.

My favorite part of this whole conversation (apart from some inevitable cussing on my part because, alas, I can only stand so much stupid) was being lectured about this being a not-for-profit league run by volunteers and the importance of being involved, not just as a mere coach of two teams (as I was) but as a league commissioner, an executive director or eventually the head of ACORN.

This came right before Bigwig told me I was NOT invited to attend the board meeting at which my request was being discussed.

I volunteered to show up anyway. He couldn't see the irony past his iron fist.

As expected, my request was denied. So, I let it drop and moved on, coaching two teams for another season without incident.

Then, when the league issued its autumn rosters, the Things received their team assignments but I was not a coach for either team even though I volunteered (remember that word) to run one team and assist with the other.

I figured maybe they actually had enough coaches, though that would have been a first in my two years in the league. Call me skeptical. I made a few calls just to be sure.

"Man, I didn't want to tell you this," said my assistant from a previous season. "They called me and drafted me to run a team. I told them I was only planning on being your assistant again this year. Then they said you weren't being allowed to coach a team this year because of some incident you had over the winter."

My response to this. I volunteered. Directly -- to both my kids' coaches. They both welcomed the added help. In fact, I "officially" was promoted to co-coach of one team because the other coach travels for business frequently.

Part of my new coaching duties is to introduce myself to the refs before every game, make small talk with them and compliment their outstanding officiating skills. By doing this, they always come to me when the game ends and hand me a special slip of paper.

It's their pay sheet for the league.

I make certain I print and sign my name in very large, legible bold letters.

She's Not Testy Over Standardized Tests

Some people have test anxiety. My daughter, however, sees it as opportunity to indulge in her favorite pastime -- mass accumulation of stuff.

I learned this the other day when, upon the drive home from school, Thing 1 pledged her love to the Connecticut Mastery Test. The CMT, for those of you out of state and/or without children, is the major standardized test for elementary and middle school students in the Nutmeg State, a nickname for Connecticut that most kids don't know today because it won't appear in the form of a question on the CMTs. This is good because, frankly, it's a stupid nickname. "The Place in the Northeast Where the Natives Don't Have a Funny Accent State" -- now at least that would makes sense.

How well a school district's students do on the CMT forms the basis of its educational reputation. Fairly or not, this partially explains why in some circles our town's public schools are thought of as highly as those "how to operate your remote control" channels on cable and DirecTV. To make matters worse, schools that don't improve their test scores can eventually lose important federal funding because, darn it, this is America -- we can only support so many flawed industries and lost causes. Besides, when was the last time your kid donated to a re-election campaign, huh?

All school year, my third-grader has deluged me with reams of notices from school explaining the CMT, offering test-taking strategies and inviting me to forums explaining why I should pay attention to these notices telling me to pay attention. Naturally, I round-filed them all, instead opting to convince Thing 1 to shut off yet another "Hannah Montana" rerun and study her vocabulary words so, for once, she could ace her weekly spelling test.

My priorities, not surprisingly, were all wrong.

A teacher told me that even though the CMT now has a section requiring a written essay, the two things test evaluators don't take into account are spelling and handwriting. These people obviously had the same rigorous training as the ones who gave me a passing grade on the scrawl known as my 20th Century American History final in college, which was taken with a raging Jägermeister-and-Keystone-induced hangover. (Ed. note: Excessive drinking is not a state-approved CMT study strategy for students, but it is optional for teachers, administrators and parents once testing concludes.)

Anyway, I'm sure she'll do OK. Thing 1 been fed a steady diet of CMT strategies since kindergarten. For example, the walls of her school are lined with vaguely Orwellian slogans such as "Show what you know," "Rename = Title; Brief = Short" and "No. 2 pencils good; No. 4 pencils bad." Also, knowing my girl, I am pretty sure she viewed hours of filling in bubbles on an optical scan sheet as something akin to a government-sanctioned art class.

"Why are you so happy about taking the CMTs?" I asked.

"We have no homework for the whole two weeks during the test," she said. "And every day before the test, I get a new pencil and eraser!"

My expectations are now set. Test evaluators, if you are reading this, be kind. Her answers may be wrong, but they will be done in the neatest, blackest, most precisely filled-in bubbles in the state.

Moreover, please note how, when you look at them from afar, they form a perfect smiley face.

It's All Downhill From Here

... if you go over to DadCentric.com and read my post about taking Thing 2 and his friend sledding.

What? You thought I was talking about the fledgling Obama administration? Do I come across as that cynical?

I remember the wee-morning hours after Clinton first got elected. A bunch of my suburban reporter colleagues and I were drinking in a bar, because that's what we did best in those days, talking about what had happened and what was to come.

One reporter, who has since gone on to cover Congress for a major Southern newspaper, said her biggest hope for the Clinton administration was that he would change the tone of our nation.

She was sick of the hatred, ugliness and fear the Newt Gingriches, Lee Atwaters, Rush Limbaughs and Pat Buchanans had been spewing during the Republican Revolution and recent campaign.

She didn't want a hippie lovefest. She just wanted less of the "if you aren't with us, you're against us -- you dirty un-American bastards" view being spouted.

She was, and still is, right. Like I tell my kids, everybody doesn't have to be your best friend, but you have to learn to get along with people whether you like them or not. And just because a lot of people agree with you doesn't make you right.

So, Big O, even though some see you as the Second Coming (which would mean I made a big mistake doing a 5-year renewal on my Entertainment Weekly subscription), I'm not expecting miracles. I'm keeping my expectations low based on others' past performance. Just for me and my kids' sake, though, show by example -- every day -- how we can all play nicely with each other again.

However, if you do have a little extra pull Upstairs, could you do something about all this frickin' cold and snow?


Video: "Sunday Shining," Finley Quaye

Top 10 Things President Bush Should Say in His Farewell Address

10. "Remember this, America: 60 million of y'all wanted a second helping of this here Texas meat."

9. "Soon as I'm out of the door, I'm putting all my efforts toward finding the real killers."

8. "Imagine what would have happened these past eight years if I was still drinking?"

7. "The only man creepier than Vice President Cheney is Karl Rove. And, yes, they're both a-holes."

6. "Anybody need some mesquite brush cleared? Cheap?"

5. "Condi is totally smokin'. I could tap that."

4. "The media fails to acknowledge the bright side of an economy in ruins and a tainted reputation abroad -- we've solved our immigration problem."

3. "That new Kanye West disc is off the chain."

2. "Let this be a lesson for future generations: Never make a decision on invading another country after six Amps and a Red Bull."

1. "Oops."

-------------

"One last thing, America. Don't vote for this Uncool guy at Humor-Blogs.com. Is that enough of an endorsement for ya?"

Who Won't Get the Uncool Vote

To the Honorable U.S. Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas),

My Love and I want to thank you for your repeated phone calls over the last few days reminding us to vote for you Tuesday. We were most impressed that you weaved our names so clearly and seamlessly into what were otherwise pre-recorded robo-calls. That's the kind of ingenuity and technical skill that will make America great again, sir! Have you considered sharing your talents with those poor folks at GM?

However, we must inform you that we have not lived in Texas since 2004. Selling our house, turning in our driver's licenses, and not paying local taxes for four years should have tipped your staff off. The area code you called might have also have been a giveaway -- dude, it's from the left-most region of the latest, gayest state in the union! Eh, well, who can tell with cell phones and the unsettlingly liberal use of number portability these days?

Still, given your zealous support of the Patriot Act and wiretapping without judicial approval or just cause, we were sure you would have been better informed of our whereabouts. Frankly, Senator, we're ... uh, relieved, actually.

Therefore, it is with regret that we must inform you that neither of us will have a say in your pursuit of a second term Tuesday. Be assured it is only a matter of location and has nothing to do with your stand on the issues.

You lucky bastard.

Singalong with Sarah Palin!

I think this could be my first No. 1 hit.

If I could sing. Or play an instrument. Or at least shoot and edit a video.

I'll leave that up to the professionals. Just send me the royalty checks.

Play this Everclear video (which is great on it own, BTW), but singalong with the new lyrics below:

Newest Bush Republican

Na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na

You know I used to be a point guard
I got busy on the hard wood in my high school gym
Yeah I used to be the nice girl at the local beauty show
But now I know my right wing from my wrong

Yeah, yeah

I really used to be a newsgirl
I talked winning sled dogs in the big Iditarod
I even did the weather in a pinch
But now I am the Newest Bush Republican
Newest Bush Republican

Na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na

I really used to be a mayor
I got lobbyists to con 'em into sending pork funds
I used to love to do the things I say I will not do
'Cause I've been vetted -- now I sing a new song

I really used to be the governor
Loved that crazy "Bridge to Nowhere" 'til McCain caught on
Yes, I was a pitbull in lipstick brown
But now I am the Newest Bush Republican
Newest Bush Republican
Newest Bush Republican
Newest Bush Republican
Newest Bush Republican

Na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na

Where do all the reformers go
After elections go down?
I wonder where all the reformers go
'Cause when you need one, they are never around

I think they pander to the interest groups
Suck up to some white rich-ass Republican wives
They spout their values to low-class Republican children
Then live their big-ass Republican lies

Where do all the reformers go
After elections go down?
I wonder where all the reformers go
But now I am the Newest Bush Republican

Na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na

* * *

My Love thinks Jon Stewart needs a nice goy like me on staff. How do you like your coffee, Mr. Stewart? Black? Sweeeeeeet?

But maybe Everclear has already written the perfect theme song for my girl Sarah.

C'mon, now -- do that stupid dance for me.

Not About Sarah Palin. Sorta.

While rest of the media -- professional, amateur and Fox News -- is buzzing about Sarah Palin today, I'm talking football over on DadCentric.com, so please go over there and read my post.

OK, even that post alludes to Sarah Palin. How could it not? They must love football in Alaska as much as they love moose, oil and unprotected teen sex. Hmmm, I bet they combine all four in one sitting up there. Alaska -- your 49th in the union but No. 1 in awesome perversness.

My Love has been obsessed with Palin being nominated as VP. Obsessed because I think she thinks she is just as qualified for the nomination, assuming My Love was a Republican and was backed by a vital special interest group, such as Wives of DUI Snowmobile Champions. Hey, My Love's dad was mayor of a small Midwestern town of less than 8,000. Executive knowledge through osmosis, baby. That's how George W. made it in, right?

Well, after watching Sarah Palin's speech last night, I must say I admire her fire, her spirit and her sarcastic wit (or that of her speechwriter). So much so that I dreamed about her last night. I'll save the details for my shrink; however, one thing stuck in my craw last night about this whole affair (no, she's not having an affair with me, let's stop the talk right here):

She isn't afraid to use her Down Syndrome baby like a prop.

Her daughter, the knocked up one, used the boy to hide her now apparent baby bump during Palin's introduction speech last week. Cindy McCain played down her heiress background and Rudy G.'s hard-assness by cuddling the kid during the former NYC mayor's speech. Someone woke the kid up on stage so Palin could be photographed with him after saying she'd be an advocate for special needs kids.

Sarah, darling, next time hire a sitter. No one will think less of you. You have my e-mail. Pay is negotiable.

Don't forget -- read my other post at DadCentric.com or at least go to Humor-Blogs.com and vote for me because I will never raise your taxes or impregnate your unwed daughter!

Redistricting means always having to say you're sorry

Here is a reproduction of my opinion piece that appeared in the May 2, 2008, issue of The Advocate of Stamford, Conn., newspaper. Below it is the original "Always Home and Uncool" version that I improved upon for the newspaper article.

* * * * *

To Stamford's school redistricting planners: Say you're sorry
By Kevin McKeever

If anyone needs to an image consultant these days, it's any Stamford official involved in the never-ending public school redistricting debate. Since I've got time to spare this morning, I'll volunteer for the job.

I propose that my culprits, I mean "clients" -- the Stamford Board of Education, Superintendent of Schools Joshua Starr and Mayor Dan Malloy -- appear front and center at the Monday, May 5, public hearing at Cloonan Middle School (7 p.m. Eastern, 4 p.m. Pacific) and do what is necessary. Apologize to the parents, children and miscellaneous taxpayers of Stamford.

A flat-out, no-holds-barred mea culpa from each of you. With a little self-depreciating humor and a lot of humility throw in.

They should follow the Hugh Grant model. Remember years ago when the "Four Weddings and a Funeral" actor was busted for having services rendered by a Hollywood prostitute in a car? Of course not! Hugh made it go away by appearing on "The Tonight Show with Jay Leno" and, with those puppy dog eyes peering through his professionally tousled hair, doing his British best "oh, how daft but civilized and charming I am" routine:

Leno: "What the hell were you thinking?"

Grant: "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Pure magic. (Note to self: Contact Larry Craig and Eliot Spitzer. Those two boobs also need help.)

Here's my vision: The Board of Ed, Starr and Malloy all take seats at the front of the auditorium. Then, one by one, they admit the mess they've made progressively worse by creating the entire "open an environmental magnet school and close Toquam, no -- close Davenport, no -- shutter Hart … one second, wait for it … let's board up K.T. Murphy, uh uh … how about Rogers … we meant, Stark" fiasco.

Then, they beg forgiveness. They vow to play nicely with each other and the public in the future. Finally, they commit to start over from scratch with a better, more open approach.

Here are the talking points ...

Board of Education members: We seriously overestimated the time and effort we could devote to this. None of us has the expertise to tackle all the issues and emotions involved. We tried really hard but, let's face facts, we're rubes on redistricting! We thought you could slip tab A into slot B, C into D, and so on, and everything would fall in place like so many dominoes or Communist nations. Whoops, scratch that last bit!

We held a lot of meetings. But, we admit, we forgot that not everyone lives and dies by the vague meeting notices we post online. We should have reached out to the school PTOs, kept them informed of upcoming topics, and sought input from them and their school's communities before voting on matters. We should have devised complete plans -- grandfathering, legacy kids, feeder patterns, etc. -- before shouting "bus those kids across town" in a crowded meeting room.

And, honestly, we were so blinded by the hordes of cash the state was dropping on us to build a shiny, new state-of-the-art facility that we never bothered to learn what the parameters for operating the school really are. Or whether anyone outside of Stamford would want to come to it. Details, details - pish, posh!

Superintendent Starr: Wow, how did this get so out of control? Where was I? Oh, yeah … probably stuck on the BQE.

First, I should have directed our staff to proactively gather all possible information about what we can and can't do with this state-funded, interdistrict, 6-to-6, environmental thingamajig of a school before ground was broken.

Second, I should have insisted the Board of Ed receive a complete analysis of facilities, capacity, enrollment projections, and district-by-district student breakdowns of total population cross-referenced against race vs. socioeconomic status vs. magnet or district school attendance, yadda yadda yadda, before they even thought about redistricting. Then we could have discussed the school system as a whole, not in this piecemeal, "endangered school of the week" fashion we took.

Third, my 11th hour Stark-closing proposal did a fantastic job of bringing a previously unheard from part of the community into the discussion. But talking about it with Stark parents first would have been wise. So would have putting it on the public meeting agenda.

And what's the deal with magnet schools? Are they working, are they really balancing the system or just messing with the people's minds? Do we need more seats or fewer seats? They're more expense to run, but other than that I honestly don't know. I should investigate this and address it in my long idle blog.

Mayor Malloy: Zzzz. Huh? Oh, oh, yeah, yeah.

Yes, I am a member of the Board of Education. A non-voting one, mind you. But, yes, I should have been more involved in redistricting from the start because it is important to the people of Stamford, whether they vote for me or not.

I should have made my opinions on redistricting clearly known and used my power to wring vital interdistrict school information from state officials for the greater good not personal acclaim. While not as dramatic or endearing as playing the white knight, charging into the fray at the last minute to save the day, being active throughout the process is the right thing to do because Stamford is me, and my actions are a reflection of Stamford.

Same for performing last-minute sneak attacks on the school's budget proposals. I was wrong about that, too. Now that the debt on my failed gubernatorial bid is paid up, I'll stop being a petty Betty.

All parties: At this point, we're as confused about what to do as anybody. We probably need a fresh set of eyes on this. Maybe we can still gather up all the information at hand and, working with an independent party, come up with three to five complete scenarios (closing schools A or B, no closings, moving magnet programs, etc.) with feeder patterns, budget estimates, etc. and roll them out to full debate and discussion with parents and the boards of Finance and Representatives.

In any case, we will refrain from springing any more PowerPoint presentations and doomsday scenarios on the public until come up with a complete, big picture plan. Only then can we have a real dialogue with people rather than these "not my school/kid" debates every other week.

One more thing. Each of us should have recognized early on that we were in over our heads. We should have slammed on the brakes and asked for more help sooner. We were well intentioned, but also arrogant. We'll do better next time to work with the community because our priority is ensuring Stamford kids gain intelligence, wisdom and understanding. Forgive us …

Hey, readers -- me, again. To conclude, on behalf of all my imaginary clients, I'd again like to quote The Divine Book of Hugh Grant, as spoken to Jay Leno:

"I think you know in life what's a good thing to do and what's a bad thing, and I did a bad thing. And there you have it."

* * * * *

Original gansta, I mean, version:

Set your TiVos, folks. Stamford Superintendent of Schools Joshua Starr, the city Board of Education and Mayor Dan Malloy -- Starrboard Malloy, for short -- will appear on "The Tonight Show with Jay Leno" to re-enact Hugh Grant's famous "Divine Brown" apology.

But the context has changed. It's in response to our city's never-ending redistricting debacle.

Jay: "What the hell were you thinking?"

StarrBoard Malloy: "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Every official involved in this mess needs to sit on the late-night couch and apologize to the public. Flat-out, no-holds-barred mea culpa. They need to admit the whole "open an environmental magnet school, close Toquam, no -- close Davenport, no -- shutter Hart … one second, wait for it … let's board up K.T. Murphy, uh uh … how about Rogers or Stark" Gordian knot needs to simply be cut ... then set aflame and floated out to sea like the barge full of landfill crud and seagull poop it has become.

They need a do-over, a make-up exam and, frankly, a clue.

Let me help start the healing. Here are some talking points for the gang ...

Board of Education members:

We seriously overestimated the time and effort we could devote to this. None of us has the expertise to tackle all the issues and emotions involved in this process. Some of us tried really hard to come up with solutions but, let's face facts, we're rubes on redistricting! We thought you could slip tab A into slot B, C into D, and so on, and everything would fall in place like so many dominoes or Communist nations. Whoops, scratch that last bit!

We held a lot of meetings. But, we admit, we forgot that the rest of the working world does not live and die by the vague meeting notices we post in the Town Clerk's office or online. We should have reached out to the school PTOs, kept them informed of upcoming topics, and sought input from them and their school's communities regularly. We should have devised complete plans -- grandfathering, legacy kids, feeder patterns, etc. -- before shouting "bus those kids across town" in a crowded Government Center committee room.

We were also so blinded by the hordes of cash the state was dropping on us to build a shiny, new state-of-the-art facility that we never bothered to learn what the parameters for operating the school really are. Oops.

Also, we (shhh) ... we really don't know everything. We're just volunteers. Some of us are only interested in one school or one issue and need to be poked with a stick to contribute to the team. Others of us just like hearing our own voices. We're human and fallible.

Finally, we should have recognized early on that we were in over our heads, then hit the brakes and asked for help. We were well intentioned, but also arrogant. Forgive us. We'll do better next time to work with the community because our priority is ensuring Stamford kids gain intelligence, wisdom and understanding.

Superintendent Starr:

Wow, how did this get so out of control? Where was I? Oh, yeah … stuck on the BQE.

First, our staff should have proactively gathered all possible information about what we can and can't do with this state-funded interdistrict, 6-to-6, environmental thingamajig of a school before ground was broken. I also should have looked into how these schools operate in practice as well in theory, as Mayor Malloy did. Good work, T-Bone, but a bit late to the table.

Second, I should have insisted the Board of Ed receive a complete analysis of facilities, capacity, enrollment projections, and district-by-district student breakdowns of total population cross-referenced against race vs. socialeconomic status vs. magnetic or district school attendance, yadda yadda yadda, before they even thought about school closings or sending kids to different schools. Then we could have discussed the school district as a whole, not in this piecemeal, street-by-street, school-by-school fashion that gets a new group up in arms every other week.

And what's the deal with magnet schools in Stamford? Are they good, are they bad, are they working, are they really balancing the system or just messing with the people's minds? I honestly don't know. Maybe I should address this in my idle blog?

Last point - I should have recognized early on that we were in over our heads, then hit the brakes and asked for help. We were well intentioned, but also arrogant. Forgive us. We'll do better next time to work with the community because our priority is ensuring Stamford kids gain intelligence, wisdom and understanding.

Mayor Malloy:

Zzzzz. Huh? Oh, oh, yeah, yeah.

Yes, I am a member of the Board of Education. A non-voting one, mind you. But, yes, I should have paid more attention to redistricting meetings because it is important to the people of Stamford, whether they vote for me or not.

When I did attend, I should have spoken up. Withholding knowledge that could help others, especially those I represent, is just plain bad judgment. Rather than playing the white knight, charging in at the last minute so I could look good, I should been involved from the start because Stamford is me, and my actions are a reflection of Stamford.

Same for performing last-minute sneak attacks on the school's budget proposals. I was a jerk about that, too. Now that the debt on my failed gubernatorial bid is paid up, I'll stop being a petty Betty.

I should have insisted the schools set aside money to hire an independent consultant with no stake or allegiance in this issue. The consultant could have given us three to five complete, unbiased scenarios (closing schools A, B or C, no closings, etc.) with feeder patterns, budget estimates and the Donut Delight drive-thru window ... I mean, kitchen sink. Then, we could have a real public discussion with well constructed ideas rather than these "not my school/kid" debates every other week.

One more thing. I should have recognized early on that we were in over our heads, then hit the brakes and asked for help. We were well intentioned, but also arrogant. Forgive us. We'll do better next time to work with the community because our priority is ensuring Stamford kids gain intelligence, wisdom and understanding.

Starrboard Malloy, all together, quoting the Book of the Divine Hugh:

"You think you know in life what's a good thing to do and what's a bad thing, and we did a bad thing. And there you have it."

My life as an undercover Republican

Confession No. 1: I've been a registered Republican for the last four years.

Disclaimer No. 1: It was completely without my knowledge. Hillary suspects a vast right-wing conspiracy.

A little while ago, My Love and I each received postcards in the mail from the Stamford Registrar of Voters office asking us to confirm our existence. This isn't Chicago, after all. So I looked them over. Names and addresses were right. Then I noticed ... it.

My Love's card had a "D" at the top, noting she was a member of "D'at Party." Mine had an "R."

As is, "Really!?!"

When we moved back here, I registered to vote at the same time I applied for my Connecticut state driver's license. I'm positive I put down "unaffiliated," "independent" or whatever the proper choice was to indicate I had a mind I could make up on my own, thank you very much.

Could the DMV have screwed up my God-given right, as an American, to vote for whomever I wanted to screw up my God-given rights as an American? Naaah …

So, I crossed out the "R" on my postcard, scrawled "unaffiliated/independent," signed it and dropped in the mail. A week later, the registrar of voters sent me an application to register to vote. To the Batphone!

The woman I spoke with at the registrar's office explained that, when I registered four years ago, I must have checked the box that said that I chose not to pick a party at that time. However, since I had previously been a registered voter in Stamford, the "system" re-activated my old file and it defaulted to the party I had last been registered with.

Confession, No. 2: I was a registered Republican for the first 12 years of my voting life.

Disclaimer, No. 2: I was only 18 when I first registered. It was the height of the Reagan Revolution. It had been drilled into my head for years that it was important to pick a party so I could vote in a primary. I blame my parents, the media and society. Shame on all of you!

Actually, I had a plan. I joined the party in power because if it turned out they were greedy, uncaring, phony-baloney, hypocritical purveyors of not-niceness than I would work from within the party structure to start a reform movement that would raise their spiritual, moral and political conscienceness to a higher plane that would benefit society as a whole.

I also believed in Santa Claus until I was about 9. Then my sister showed me the stash of unwrapped presents under the living room couch.

So, I asked the woman on the phone if she could help me out.

"That's no trouble," she said. "I'll do it right now."

That was awfully nice of her. Of course, I may not have been who I said I was on the phone. I could have been anyone. I could have been an Al-Qaeda operative. I could have been Dooley Womack. I could have … hmmm …

Coming soon: Confession, No. 3.

Deal or no deal

This entry later ran as an Op-Ed piece in The Advocate (Stamford, Conn.) newspaper on March 27, 2008, under the headline "City budgeting not a game ... or is it?"

* * * * *

Gooooood day! And, welcome to this year's edition of "Stamford Budget Crisis"!

We have an exciting show for you today as we try to find ways to pay for all the things you – that's right, you! – need, want or couldn't-care-less-about-but-are-dear-to-certain-political-interests!

So, let's give the Wheel O' Gristle a spin to see what we will be trimming today to fund the "essentials" of tomorrow …

Oh, oh, oh … it lands on slashing public library funding for $750,000! Excellent! You get to shorten the operating hours and stop buying new books!

Wait, there's more!

Our exclusive, two-faced pointer thingy on the wheel has also landed on closing your most academically successful elementary school for a savings of $5.4 million! Fantastic!

What's that, Johnny?

Our announcer informs me that as an added bonus, we'll eliminate several crossing guards at the remaining schools because those near-minimum wage jobs for fixed income seniors really add up!

Such is life in my hometown. We may be on the alleged Gold Coast but every year the headlines read like we are in the poor house. This is because Stamford, unlike most of our neighboring towns, is really more of a rebounding, old industry city than a wine-and-brie bedroom community. Compared with most of Fairfield County, we have a wider diversity of ethnicity, socioeconomic standing and hamburger joints.

But that builds character … or does it create characters? Either way, it beats white bread.

Because of my city's location amid the home bases of celebrities, hedge fund kings and the plain ol' stinking rich, we tend to get the short end when it comes to state and federal funding for essentials like education and infrastructure repair, even though we have lots of the same issues as our poorer, more urban cousins. Stamford is a city, the Hartford and D.C. types forget, not a hamlet, and something is rotten in the state of the city.

Solution: corporate sponsorship.

Look, I abhor teams and municipalities selling the naming rights to ball parks. I also can't understand why corporations want their name on them because it tends to be a good predictor of whether the buyer is going kaput in the near future. Witness Enron Field in Houston, AmeriQuest Field at The Ballpark in Arlington, and PSINet Stadium in Baltimore. Mark my words, the Mets' new home being called Citi Field isn't good news for the financial giant's employees and stockholders.

But there is a market for it, so why not cash in? Capitalism, like freedom and democracy, separates us from the evil-doers and terrorists, I hear. Also, this is selling out for the sake of community enrichment, not personal riches.

Here are just a few suggestions that involve area corporations:

World Wresting Entertainment can make a nice donation to help keep the local libraries open at normal hours. In return, the city hangs banners at all branch entryways for the year, announcing: "We didn't close down on Mondays thanks to WWE SmackDown on Fridays (8 p.m. on The CW)!"

Priceline could give some financial help to the school system in exchange for high school stadium and sports team advertising. Here's your slogan: "Priceline.com: Where you 'Name Your Own Price' -- but not at the cost of educating Stamford's kids!"

We could spiff up the concession and restrooms areas at our beaches if we get one of the many major beverage distributors headquartered in and around town to pay for their names on these facilities. Welcome to the Pepsi Picnic Pavilion at Cove Island! If Rover does his business in the park, no worries – use one of the complimentary Doritos' Do-Not-Doo-Doo bags to pick it up. Then toss it into one of our many Quaker Oatmeal trash canisters because, while any oatmeal can help lower your cholesterol, only Quaker helps reduce pollution in Long Island Sound!

Disclosure: Those last examples are also shameless plugs and hints for my wife's employer. Hey, corporations have paid bigger bucks for dumber ways to advertise that didn't benefit anyone other than the C-level suits in the long run.

Now, let's take a commercial break.

When we come back, we'll play a round of that annual favorite, "Too Poor to Pay for the Fourth of July Fireworks Show," OK?!

Sign o' the times

Shortly after we moved in to our home, I made two alterations. I added a massage head extension and a radio to the shower.

This caused My Love some concern. She feared next would be a mini-fridge. Still not a bad idea.

I like to get a dose of news radio with my Irish Spring (sorry for the images now dancing in your head) so I can make pithy comments to my wife, the corporate executive, about how horrible the morning commute is shaping up. Then I put on my fuzzy slippers and Brew Thru T-shirt and lumber downstairs to my desk.

Also, like this morning, I get lathered up just hearing that New York State Department of Transportation workers are rushing around to remove hooker-happy, ex-Gov. Spitzer's name from several hundred "Welcome to New York" signs.

Never understood the need to put anyone's name on these signs. There are too many places a politically savvy person shouldn't want to assume credit for.

And, what a waste of time and tax money when they need changing as often as they do here in the tri-state area. Yes, it took us less than four years to hit the gubernatorial pond-scum trifecta with Spitzer, New Jersey's James McGreevey (it's OK to be gay, but not to put your unqualified boyfriend in charge of homeland security without your wife's explicit written permission) and Connecticut's John Rowland, who still doesn't get it -- not that that stopped the Waterbury mayor who hired the convicted felon as an economic adviser.

It's not just governors. In my hometown, the mayor has his name on the signs welcoming you to town. He also has his moniker on the entrance signs of various city-owned venues. This includes the landfill-turned-recycling-center he tried to essentially close down earlier this year to save money. Hmm, I forget … was that before or after he announced his plan to make our city a model of energy efficiency, green technology and environmental goodness for generations to come? Well, rave on, Mr. "Cool and Green in 2020."

The only exception to my rant – the signs in and out of the borough of Brooklyn. My knowledge of them began when the shower radio let me down before taking a trip with the kids to the New York Aquarium a few weeks ago. But, my many detours led me to enjoy such bon mots as "Welcome to Brooklyn: Believe the Hype," "Welcome to Brooklyn: How Sweet it is" and "Leaving Brooklyn: Fugheddaboudit."

Mayor Michael Bloomberg, Borough President Marty Markowitz - stand and take a bow, gentlemen. I can't wait to go back to find "Leaving Brooklyn: Oy Vey!"