Reid About It

I really just wanted to let this one go, but the story surrounding South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford officially went from weird to crazy yesterday.

For those of you who missed it, a couple of weeks ago Sanford just disappeared. Poof. Like Eddie, from the Cruisers. Incommunicado. Gone gone gone he been gone so long, he been gone gone gone so long.

For four days, Sanford was out. He couldn't be reached by phone, he ditched his security detail, and he took off without telling the Lieutenant Governor to catch the phones while he was gone. He basically just bailed for the weekend, and took the keys to the state with him.

Sanford eventually admitted he had an Argentine lover, and he left the country to be with her. His wife knew, and had known for a while.

Let me be the first to say this. I don't care.

I neither live in South Carolina, nor do I care about the sexual exploits of its Governor. If he wants to fly to Argentina on his day off and get a little international slick-em-up on his hang-em-down, and his wife's okay with that, more power to him. If he wants his official political opinion to be that marriage is between a man, a woman, and another woman from Argentina, I won't stand in his way.

But Sanford got caught, and began apologizing. He apologized to his wife, to his voters, to his colleagues, basically to everyone except the Argentina travel board, who named him "Man of the Year."

After that occurred, we had some big news that in any other situation, would knock him out of the headlines. However, Sanford just kept on talking.

Tuesday, when the rest of the world had forgotten about him, Sanford gave an interview to the Associated Press that made him sound like he had been dosed with truth serum and Nyquil.

To start with, Sanford admitted he had met with his Argentine lover more times than he originally let on. Sanford also said he would reimburse the state for a trade mission to Argentina last year he used for the purpose of, as the kids say, "hooking up."

That seems a little bit suspicious to me. What kind of trade agreements are in place between South Carolina and Argentina? What kind of services are being traded? Other than "hot lovin," I mean.

He said he had "crossed lines" with other women, although never the "ultimate line." Vagueness doesn't help here. I would assume we're talking handsies or mouthsies, or perhaps footsies, depending on what he's into. I shan't judge, whatever it is.

To cap it all off, Sanford said he had met his "soulmate," but he would try and fall back in love with his wife.

Worst. Apology. Ever.

I mean, seriously. Shut up, man. You're killing yourself here. Drink the fifth, then plead it. You're spilling your guts like Sgt. Schultz with a fresh plate of LeBeau's crepes in front of him.

You're not exactly helping yourself with that all-important female demographic here.

For those of you using Twitter, you can follow me here on Twitter. It's very interesting to see what kind of random businesses try and get my attention on twitter. Here's a clue, unless your motel sends a twitter saying I can come stay for free, I see no conceivable reason to ever befriend a motel on Twitter. Go 'way.

My doctor said I need more fiber in my diet, so today I got my footlong Subway meatball sandwich on wicker.

I was watching "Wipeout" tonight, and they said one of the contestants was being "mercilessly pummeled." Of course they were. What's the point of pummeling someone with mercy? That wouldn't get the point across at all.

After deliberation, I've decided I'm only on the highway to Heck. This one has Cracker Barrels.

I'm taking my daughter to see "Up." Not only do I think it'll be a good movie, but I also feel it's important to expose the youngest generation to the grouchiness of Ed Asner.

A few days ago, a friend of mine just out of the blue said "You know, John F. Kennedy would have been 92 today." I can appreciate his optimism, but I seriously doubt it. Even if hadn't come to Dallas in 1963, he was still a Kennedy. His odds of making it to 92 were pretty slim. They're the Von Erichs of politics.

Management Tip: It's true that when you squeeze a lump of coal, you get a diamond. However, when you squeeze a lump of crap, you just make everything crappy.

Ah, meatballs. So delicious, yet so vague.

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the number of breaths we make our enemies take underwater.

I'm watching that "True Blood" series on HBO. I don't care much for vampires, but I'm a big fan of bad Southern accents.

For my summer project, I'm writing a musical version of "Road House." With songs like "Be Nice...Until It's Time To Not Be Nice" and "I Used To ^$#@ Guys Like You In Prison," I can see it becoming a runaway sensation all over the place. You'll be able to catch it everywhere from Broadway right down to high school dinner theatre in Alabama.

I wish I had taken piano lessons when I was a kid. Even though I learned my music theory primarily on piano and I can pretty much chord along with anything, I just don't have the ability to make my left hand go off and...well, do something like this.



Outstanding.

For your blogging infotainment, today I present The Pivot Questionnaire, better known as the questions James Lipton asks every guest on "Inside the Actor's Studio."

1. What is your favorite word?
"Moist," followed closely by "rigid".

2. What is your least favorite word?
"Sword," when it's pronounced suh-warred. I almost called off something I was greatly looking forward to because a woman pronounced it like that.

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Creative thoughts inspire me. Anything that comes at me from a different angle than I was expecting creatively, and makes me question the old ways of doing things.

4. What turns you off creatively?
Free time.

5. What is your favorite curse word?
I have a favorite string of profanities and religious references designed to annoy everyone.

6. What sound or noise do you love?
Drums and percussion. I'm a huge Buddy Rich fan, and I can literally listen to drum solos for hours. I try not to share my percussive dementia with others, don't worry.

7. What sound or noise do you hate?
Loud car stereos from guys with no musical taste.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Comic book writer.

9. What profession would you not like to do?
Sales.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at
the Pearly Gates?
"Reid! Good to see you. Help yourself to the temple of ribs and porn."

While checking out at the local store and trapped in the aisle of shiny impulse items, I saw this magazine. It's something called "First" magazine, and the headline reads "WALK OFF 43 POUNDS THIS MONTH!"

Oh, shut the Hell up.

Let's ponder the concept of walking off 43 pounds in the course of a single month, shall we? Unless you're living on a steady diet of water and tape worms, it's not going to happen. Perhaps if your walking track takes you through a minefield, you might wind up with 43 pounds less of you after a month. Otherwise, don't lie to me like I'm Larry King.

Who believes a story like this? You would not only need to have no knowledge of nutrition or caloric burn, but you'd probably also need to be unfamiliar with the concept of "walking."

Seriously, if you're going to lie to me, at least make it a lie I could conceivably believe. "Walk Off 20 Pounds" I might fall for. "Lose A Small Amount Of Weight By Doing Exercise?" Sure!

However, "Lose A Third-Grader's Worth Of Weight By Participating In A Minor Exertion" is a bit too much to ask.

Things I'm Not Sure I'd Eat, Vol. 1

I'm not even sure what to say about this. And bear in mind, I'm a guy who will often eat "meatballs." However, "meat patty" seems even more...ominous.

And the addition of the word "homestyle" doesn't help, unless you grew up in a household where your mom specialized in providing you hearty meals made up of vague forms of foodstuffs that could only generously be described as "meat."

While NBC will have five hours less primetime to cover in the 2009-2010, and therefore less programming to schedule, we're starting to see the networks make their decisions on renewing shows for next season.

ABC has renewed Castle for a second season. In spite of my outright begging to them to let it go, they've also renewed Scrubs for a ninth season. The show will be back in some way or another, but most of the main cast will only be back to help transition to their new format. Donald Faison, John C. McGinley and Neil Flynn will be back in some capacity, although each of them is also on another show next season. Zach Braff also is scheduled to return.

In spite of mediocre ratings, ABC will also be bringing back Better Off Ted, which falls under the category of "great show that no one knows about." True Beauty, the Ashton Kutcher and Tyra Banks reality show, will also return.

From last night's "30 Rock," spoken by Alan Alda after he found Tracy Jordan crying about being thought of as a coward and yelling that he wasn't a chicken or a baby.

"A guy crying about a chicken and a baby? I though this was supposed to be a comedy show."

Maybe 10% of the audience will get it, but it's well worth the ride.

If you haven't seen the "Lost" season five finale, don't worry, this post is completely without spoilers. In fact, after last night's episode, I'm not sure I could give you spoilers if I wanted to.

Here's your quick no-spoils "Lost" review.

Uh...yeah. I, uh...what the...I don't get the, uh...yeah. I have no idea. They could come back next year with an island full of Muppets, and I couldn't be more confused.

As I wrote last week, ever since "Lost" set an ending date for the show, they've really done a great job with keeping the show moving. They got the Oceanic Six off the island, then started a new series of quests. Everyone went on an adventure through time, space, life, and death.

And then in the end...well, who knows? The last two seasons have started with a new status quo, and it seems the final one will as well.

Or maybe not. Honestly, after last night's finale, I can't tell.

Experts say that whenever you move, you should throw out anything you haven't unpacked from the previous move.

This is probably a good place to point out that anyone who would refer to themselves as an "expert" in the field of moving is probably full of crap. Come on, there's no college major in relocation. No trade school is going to teach you to pack a box. The NRA cannot and will not show you how to use a tape gun.

Rather than just refer to myself as an "expert," I'll present my qualifications.

I was conceived in one location and born in another, thus making my first move while still in the womb. On the ultrasound, you can see I'm holding a tiny roll of packing tape.

I was the son of a minister, which gives me the kind of home stability that only people who grew up in either a military family or a carnival can imagine. We moved every couple of years, whether we needed to or not. It was like we were in some kind of holy witness protection program.

I went to four high schools, one of them twice. I'm pretty sure I never got everything out of my locker before I left, either.

After finishing college, I proceeded to live in twelve different places in the next ten years. One time, I moved everything I owned a grand total of a hundred yards. Just to raise the difficulty level of the move, I went from one upstairs apartment to another. It was good for the calves, at least.

Even in adulthood I can't escape it. I bought a house, then got divorced within two years and had to move into another apartment. After that, I bought a house again and am convinced that this is where I'll spend the rest of my days, or at least the rest of the summer.

I have what I like to refer to as an "in-depth knowledge of spatial geometry." What this means is that I can pack a U-Haul like a son-of-a-gun. Here's my ten tips for getting there with stuff and sanity still intact.

1) Pack the Hell out of that U-Haul. The U-Haul goes all the way up, doesn't it? So should your boxes. Build it in waves and layers.

2) Boxes with handles are worth it. Boxes with handles that'll last a whole move without tearing are even more valuable.

3) Label your boxes as you are filling them. Even if just random stuff, label it as such. Remember when you're done, you'll have what seems like a thousand boxes that all look exactly the same. Any clue you can leave will help solve a future mystery.

4) You will have the best intentions of going through everything and sorting it all before packing. Don't worry, later on, this concept will seem humorous to you and you'll get a good laugh out of it while opening boxes full of old Family Circle magazines and used dog toys.

5) You can get boxes anywhere. However, you don't want to keep your stuff in them forever. Milk boxes make great short term crates, but about every other one has a small stain in it that will quickly make your books smell like rancid feet.

6) Resign yourself to packing some random boxes. Where do you put the pushpins? What about the set of eyeglass screwdrivers? Any idea where you planted your spare set of keys, old mail, and the notice for your next doctor's appointment? If you took my advice, it's all in that big box marked "Crap Off The Kitchen Counter." It's not eloquent, but it is effective.

7) Some things won't fit, no matter what. Every house has some weird shaped stuff like lamps, end tables, and ceramic animals of questionable taste. Do your best on these, but that's what the interior of the car is for. Put that hideously ornate ceramic elephant in the passenger seat and strap it in with the seat belt. Or better yet, put it underneath the back tire, wait for the crunching sound, and apologize to Aunt Dorothy for ruining her wedding gift later.

8) Don't be a hero. Yeah, you can lift that TV by yourself, but do you want to bet the $500 purchase price on it, Mr. Stallone? Furthermore, everybody hurts. By the time you finish, everyone will be sore, so shut up about your own problems. Whoever is getting their stuff moved for free should be the most effervescent SOB in the house at all times.

9) Don't feel bad about being sentimental. Everybody has their memories, and sometimes a movie ticket or a handwritten note can be a reminder of a sweeter time. However, you don't need every single memory you've ever had, do you? As a quick rule of thumb, if rediscovering it for the first time doesn't immediately make you smile, toss it. Ladies, do you really need to hang on to the ticket stub from that time you and that guy from work went to see "Weekend At Bernie's 2" and wound up at Marble Slab, where he made that incredibly inappropriate comment and you dumped a frozen yogurt in his lap, then had to walk home in your new shoes? On second thought, maybe so.

10) Old media has to go. No old magazines, no old software, nothing that could be easily replaced by a quick Google search. Yes, old magazines are cool because of the nostalgia factor, but do you really want to be that guy from "Seinfeld" who had collected every issue of "TV Guide"?

Finally, if you learn nothing else from me, please remember this one rule. The person moving is responsible for buying the meals, and beer afterwards if appropriate. If you want help the next time you move, honor this Golden Rule.

Our long national nightmare is over, it seems. Miss California, Carrie Prejean, will be keeping her crown. Donald Trump has ruled that even though some nude pictures of her taken when she was younger have surfaced, she will retain her crown.

For those of you who are wondering why Donald Trump gets to decide, he is the owner of the Miss USA Pageant. It's kind of like the Yankees owning their minor league franchises. Miss USA is like triple-A ball for the next future ex-Mrs. Trumps.

It's kind of surprising for Trump to make this call, especially when you look at this last season's "Celebrity Apprentice." Trump fired Khloe Kardashian for a year-old DUI charge that everyone in the country knew about, except for Trump. He fired her when he found out, even though she had already served her time.

With the end of the pageant and the season finale of "Celebrity Apprentice," I thought for sure we were finished talking about both of these people for a little while. Between her gay marriage comments, the story about her contest-financed breast implants, and now the nude pictures, Prejean has now been a part of our national consciousness for longer than any other pageant contestant since Vanessa Williams.

Isn't it a little bit ironic that the only time we ever hear about pageant contestants after the contest is over is when the inevitable naked pictures show up?

A friend of mine posted recently about books on optical illusions being just as troubling in her adult life as they were in elementary school.

I heartily agree. To me, optical illusions fall into the same category as old-school magicians.

"Hey, look at this! These two lines are actually the same length! Look! Isn't that something?"

"Yeah, great...can I go now?"

And why do we show these mindf$#@s to kids, anyway? Why is it important to let children know that they can be easily fooled. Are we training them to doubt their own eyes and only trust in what the authority tells them is the truth?

Man, when I uncork a rant against Big Brother like that, sometimes I sound like George Carlin with a migraine headache. I gotta stop putting Red Bull on my Honey Nut Cheerios first thing in the morning.

Trolley drivers in Boston are now prohibited from carrying cell phones after one particularly unfortunate multi-tasker ran a red light and hit another trolley, injuring forty-nine.

And this isn't an isolated incident, here's footage from a rather spectacular bus crash in San Antonio. Major dumbassery afoot.



See, this is why we need laws. In a perfect world filled with marginally intelligent people, we could all afford to be libertarian. We wouldn't need any level of government to make rules to protect us, because we'd all think ahead.

But just generally speaking, we're too frickin' stupid to do that.

You shouldn't have to tell people not to text while they're driving, especially...

a) in heavy traffic,
b) when you're transporting the handicapped, or
c) if you happen to be driving a two-ton trolley.

Besides, what the Hell could a bus driver possibly have to text somebody about that's so urgent it can't wait for the next stop?

My God, if they don't know they shouldn't text while driving a bus or trolley, what else don't these people know? Will we see security cam footage of some tractor-trailer driver juggling all the way into a twelve-car pileup? Do we need to make laws about not flossing while driving?
How about "No trimming your toenails while the trolley is in motion?"

"Drivers should not attempt to decipher an M. Night Shyamalan movie while in crosstown traffic."

The final episode of "Scrubs" aired last night.