As the year turns...

Everyone says "Boy, am I glad this year is over!" at the end of every year. Can't say that's normally true for me. I mean, stuff happens - both good and bad - which is just how life is.

2007 promises to be quite a year for Farmer Ted, I think. In all likelyhood, the view you see at right from the porch may change. But that's in 2007.

Every year I re-read the poem "Paeans" that Maya Angeou recited at the Millennium Celebration in Washington DC for 2000. For me, it's just as appropriate now as we look to what we hope will be as the year turns:

The bells are a-clamor,
chimes have been loosed;
there is a banquet of Hosannas in the air.

We have endured endless peaks of pain and valleys of loneliness;
We have lost beloved's we could not live without; yet we have lived.

We have encountered unforgivable cruelty; yet we have forgiven, yet we have been forgiven.

We have survived, flourished, and thrived with passion, compassion, humor and style. We have been fortunate and worthy.

Now we stand, heavy laden, before a great gate which leads to the rest of all time. It swings ajar, and we know at this critical moment that not all we carry need enter when we enter.

We can evict hate and scorn from our souls; we can open clenched fists, and let bigotry, malice and enmity fall back down the slope to yesterday.

We can lay down our burden of violence and step lightly over the lintel into a vernal and newly-minted tomorrow.

We, who never saw a new century; we, who never saw a new one thousand years, can join the hallelujah, the hymns, the paeans, the voices all over the world.

We can shout or whisper, scream or mumble:
Happy New Millennium!
Happy New Century!!
Happy New Year!!!

Wishing us all peace,

- Farmer Ted

Y'all come back now, y'here...

Southern hospitality used to perplex me.

I've wandered down from the porch and to the nearest Wal*Mart because (let's face it) they do have the best prices. And as I bumped around the crowds with my cart, I couldn't help but notice how dayum polite everyone was.

Me: "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to crush your child with my cart!"
Shopper: (in a southern lilt) "Don't you worry about that! A little Bactine will fix that right up. Merry Christmas, y'all!"

I say it *used* to perplex me because I was observing my mother the other day when folks came over on Christmas. Now, she was born and raised in the south and has the ability, as I put it, "to invite a tornado in to 'set a spell'."

For example, this couple dropped by I know she didn't particularly care for. "Come on in!" she said. "Don't be silly, y'all just go'on have another piece of that pie!" she gushed. "Oh no! Do you have to go?" she says. Then once the door was closed behind them? "I never thought they'd leave!" she hissed. "Can you imagine the NERVE of them showing up here? And then to eat like pigs!"

Taught me a valuable lesson about people: Culture can mask a lot of things. Be aware.

- Farmer Ted

Make mine a cruller...

I loved the series Moonlighting.

Sitting here on the porch in that quiet time I'm reflecting just a bit. TV is just a bit boring since all the channels are showing re-runs. I mean, I really like South Park but even I can only take so much.

But I wanted you to know that I did find the Krispy Kreme Iced Crullers, so I'm set. And finding those reminded me of one of my favorite episodes from the series Moonlighting, "North by North DiPesto", the first episode where the character Agnes DiPesto is the central character.

In it, Agnes is down because her life is so routine and boring, even to the kind of donut she always orders from the bakery - jelly. Wishing to make her life more exciting, David and Maddie give her a ticket to the LA Detectives Ball. There, Miss Dipesto (as she is affectionately called) begins a whirlwind 24 hours of handsome men, intrigue, murder, and secret agents. It's really a fun episode and sorta brings home the old adage "Be careful what you wish for" as she comes close to being rinsed off in a laundry - permanently. The episode ends with her happily back at her desk and her life, but not the same: she picks up the phone and says to the bakery "...make mine a cruller."

A convoluted connection, I know. And yet it brings to mind a song that often comes to mind when I'm in a situation like hers (minus the murder and secret agents, of course) "Anything Can Happen" by Was (Not Was). Or better, the line by Miss DiPesto when she's caught up in all of the mayhem and she protests by wailing, "I'm someone who answers the phones!"

It's that amazing quality to life that gives Farmer Ted stuff to write about.

- Farmer Ted

It's got to be the morning after...

The day after Christmas is always strange, isn't it? All the gifts are unwrapped and taken. Or perhaps left under the tree in some misplaced attempt to recapture the anticipation of Christmas Eve. Gift cards don't count left under the tree, btw. They make miserable packages.

Not like it's a bad day at all. For me, it's one of my favorites. Things are quieter for one thing. Guests are gone and the Christmas visits are accomplished. And all the Christmas goodies are left to munch on without the frenetic activity of Christmas Day itself.

One thing I actually look forward to is heading off the porch to the sales at the retail stores and I have a long list of things I need to look for. As usual, the list reads like tea leaves for what occurred on Christmas. (Handing you my best mystic turban) Here's my current shopping list and while you're wearing the turban you'll "see" a snatch of conversation from Christmas Day:

o Set of wine glasses (you sense "Oh no! Not enough wine glasses. Guess it's time to break out the jelly jars!")

o Wine ("My gawd! They drank even out of jelly jars.")

o USB printer cord ("Dang! It didn't have one in the box? How was I supposed to know?")

o Printer cartridges ("I guess spares would be a good idea since the kids print out anything and everything.")

o Spoons ("If you can't find a clean teaspoon when you want one, it's time to buy more.")

o Orange Juice ("Out already?!? Was Anita Bryant here for Christmas?")

o Krispy Kreme Chocolate Iced Crullers (BLANK)

Okay. That last one is just for me.

- Farmer Ted

Wishing you a bedazzled Christmas...

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Your host, Farmer Ted, is back on the porch for the holidays and it feels good to be in the US again. If only because the holiday season is just not complete without the run of uniquely American schlock commercials which seem to abound at this time of year.

The first one I saw was for The Bedazzler. You know, the product that gives the opportunity to jewel encrust all manner of your attire? Who can forget the commercial depicting the pink stretch top with Sexy Girl emblazoned across the nipples. Now that's classy.

"It's easy! It's fun! It's fantastic!" screams the announcer.

Not to be outdone, Joseph Enterprises continues the tradition with the 11th Wave of Chia's (I kid you not, they are rolled out in waves) including the 25th anniversary Chia Alarm Clock and the Cuddly Chia Puppy. Although who can really cuddle up with a herbaceous figurine.

And what about the Pocket Fisherman from Ronco. Every time I see the commercial it makes me remember fondly those days as a kid casting longing and futilely into the Bronx River, hoping to suprise my mom with fish for dinner. Luckily I never caught anything. Shudder.

Yes, it's good to be back.

Welcome home, Farmer Ted.

Welcome home.

- Farmer Ted

Get ready to play...

"You can't help but notice that cute guy at the gym, in the bar or around the neighborhood. You smile at each other. And all you're thinking is one question..."

This the premise that Lifetime Television is betting will be the newest game show sensation since "Let's Make a Deal." Only in this case, the deal is whether a female contestant can meet and interact with three guys and determine which one is "Gay, Straight, or Taken."

And the tagline? "Play the game you already play!"

In this self-proclaimed "new kind of dating game" a woman is sent on a series of encounters with three men. If she can correctly select which one is straight and single, they both get sent on a "luxurious dream getaway for her and this available bachelor." Otherwise, the guy she mistakenly picks wins the getaway. Viewers are encourage to play along with an online scorecard.

While whimsical in some ways, I do think this whole thing is slightly offensive not because of the premise per se but in how stereotypically gays are portrayed in print ads. Snidely quips one, "Is this guy checking you out because: a) you're pretty? b) you look just like his girlfriend? c) he likes your shoes?"

Uh, "...likes your SHOES?"

Who writes this stuff, Sean Hannity?

Especially their so-called scorecard where you rank your "guydar," which I guess is their feeble attempt at spoofing the term "gaydar". Because as everyone knows, gays are not "guys", right?

*rolling my eyes*

Bzzzzzt. Ooh! So sorry, Lifetime. You win a years supply of Rice-A-Roni, The San Francisco Treat.

And, thanks for playing.

- Farmer Ted

Just call him "Bond"...

Saw the new 007 flick, Casino Royale. Let me just say it was the best Bond in decades. And it's all due to Daniel Craig filling the role of "James Bond".

Now I will admit when he was first announced as the choice in the film I was sceptical. But not for the reason you think: Daniel Craig is one of the finer actors today. I don't know if it was that my expectations for the actors who play Bond had dropped considerably over the years or what. But I felt he was - in truth - over qualified to play the role.

But he proved me wrong, bringing layers of complexity and rueful humor to a character that I'd come to expect to be merely a cardboard cut-out in a plot driven movie.

And the blue eyes and perfectly sculpted body don't hurt either! A body which we see clearly as he rises out of the ocean in a odd juxstaposition from the same move by Ursala Andress and Halle Berry. Hmmm.

Anyway, if by the end of the first 15 minutes you don't agree with me that this is the best Bond? Why. Why. I'll eat my head. Or maybe drink a dozen Vespers.

- Farmer Ted

Let's hear it for the 25th anniversary...

Today is World AIDS Day.

This year also marks the 25th anniversary of the CDC recognizing this plague as Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.

Every year I take this time out to think about the friends and strangers lost to this terrible disease.

AIDS has a face. I have looked into that face as it realized it was infected. I have cried with that face as it was horrified with the changes wreaked on it by the virus. I have gazed into that face, trying to convey without words all my fervent hope that everything would be fine.

And I have sat alone, bereft of amazing people who deserved more from life than to be a statistic.

Yes, AIDS has a face. It can be the face of a friend. A sister. A baby. A lover. It is a human face.

And on my knees I offer up a prayer for people in my life still afflicted - and for those who I don't even know - for health and peace. And God's love.

Yes, it's been 25 years. And this is one occasion I wish never goes to 26.

- Farmer Ted

Explaining Thanksgiving...

Now that the rush of Thanksgiving is over, I have a moment to reflect on the holiday and what it means. Not in the way you think, though. But more like, what the heck is it anyway.

This was brought home to me before I left Australia to come back to The Porch for the holiday. A person in the room there wished me a Happy Thanksgiving while I was at home. Casual enough wish here in the US, but definitely learned behavior (almost wrote "behaviour" there!) in The Land Down Under.

Here is an actual conversation I had right before I left:

Me: "Thanks, guy! I'm looking forward to some turkey and cranberry sauce, too!"

Aussie 1: "I've heard that."

Me: "Yes, it's a tradition from the first Thanksgiving."

Aussie 2: (joining in) "First Thanksgiving?"

Me: "Yeah! You know: 1621. The Mayflower. The Pligrims. Indians and the first harvest."

Aussie 1: "Pilgrims?"

By now there is complete silence is in the room and I'm standing there with about 15 pairs of Australian eyes turned on me like a particularly succulent meat pie.

Me: (laughing uncomfortably) "Ummm. They came from England and landed at Plymouth Rock."

(blank stares)

Me: (continuing) "You know, in Massachusetts. And they wore black wide-brimmed hats. Big white collars and, ummm, buckle... shoes." (fading into silence)

By then I was really hoping for a stampede of kangaroos in the room or something to divert their attention from the American fairy tale it seemed I was spinning.

That or they were just jealous of our traditions. Yeah, that's it.

- Farmer Ted.

Observing the Aussies: Flora and fauna...

Nowhere do I know I'm not at home than the plants and animals in The Land Down Under.

I've thought about going to a zoo but figured why bother? I can hardly pronounce the names of animals let alone recognize what they might look like (except for kangaroos, which I've never seen live in Australia and so think that it's a big joke being played on the world by their tourism industry).

Given that it's spring versus fall in the northern climes, I tripped over some sort of creature on the steps at work the other day. It looked vaguely like a catepillar but was so hairy and frightening I'm only guessing that's what it was short of having at it with a bottle of Nair.

I tried not to scream.

What really brought the difference in animals home occurred while stumbling around the The Rocks in Sydney, when on Argyle Street I came across a little childrens boutique with toys in the window. One item displayed was one of those books for toddlers: You know, those fabric ones with cute puffy animals on the pages for you to identify with your child? As I looked at more closely I just stared, rubbing my eyes because I thought my night at The Lord Nelson had come back to haunt me.

Within the cottony soft pages of the book was not a single animal I knew.

I tried not to scream.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Clothing...

Okay, so we all have to wear something. But one thing I've noticed is that "something" is the watchword here in Australia.

Perhaps it's because the southern hemisphere is six-months behind the clothes-leading northern hemisphere. After all, it's not like they say "We saw Kate Moss on the runways of Perth and she looked FABULOUS!!" Maybe it's because in a country that is 90% outback, if all you're going to see are kangaroos it's not like you have to wear your best frock to the occasion. Yaknowaddamean?

Yes, Australia is the catch up kid when it comes to what to wear and a poster child for "What Not to Wear". If only because no one's quite sure what look they're trying to pull off. Let's just call the look "Eclectic Wagga Wagga."

This even extends to other areas.

My friend Carrie came here to visit, traveling Australia and then on to New Zealand. She is quite a hedonist and, ahem, thoroughly enjoyed herself. However she did have one comparison point between Australian men and New Zealand men. I won't exactly say what it was, but I will point out that Australia took notice by the introduction of the male Wonderbra called the "Wonderjock". I kid you not. And let me just say that, according to Carrie, it still won't help.

But there is one thing that saves Australia: the people. I will grudgingly admit that it is a nation of, for the most part, extremely fit and attractive people.

If only they would learn the joys of natural fabrics.

- Farmer Ted

"Midnight Express" come to life...

Unbeknownst to my US brethren, a drug war of the most nefarious kind is being waged at the airports and shipping ports of the US. The federally appointed Drug Czar is losing sleep over it. TSA inspectors are on high alert to search passengers for it. Profiling is running unchecked and unchallenged for "mules" carrying it.

I'm talking about Vegemite(R), of course.

According to a spokesperson for Kraft in Australia, the US Government has undertaken a policy of blocking, confiscating, and destroying any Vegemite attempting to reach US shores. This includes stopping Australians landing in the US and performing searches of their personal effects looking for the innocuous dark brown jar with the bright bio hazard-yellow lid.

"WFT?!?" you are very correct in asking as any reasonable person would (except for anyone who's actually eaten the stuff - yuk). It seems that Vegemite contains the additive folate, which has many health benefits including being key in the initial phases of fetal development in pregnant women. However in the US, folate can only be added to baked goods and cereals. So that, in the eyes of the dreaded Folic Acid Mafia, means anyone carrying it needs to be leaned on. And hard.

"Dat's right!" rasps the Pillsbury Pop'n'Fresh Doughboy followed by his signature giggle. "Cross us and we'll stuff you in an industrial baking oven for 20 minutes on an ungreased cookie sheet just to teach you a lesson! (giggle)"

And yes, you would also be right in thinking why the hell are they concentrating men, money, and materiel on scoring The Big Vegemite Haul when there are illegal drugs hidden in Tickle-me Elmos, aliens and possibly dirty weapons they keep on scaring us about streaming into the country virtually unchecked?

Only the makers of Wonder Bread know for sure.

- Farmer Ted

To have and to hold? Yeah, right...

Q: What's black and brown and looks good on an attorney?
A: A doberman pinscher.

How can you avoid the Sir Paul McCartney/Heather Mills bust up in the news. After claiming the divorce would be amicable for the sake of their daughter, one quoted source said that after a "furious row" two months ago the tone of the divorce proceedings turned ugly, putting Mrs Mills-McCartney on the the scent of all that dough like Jethro Bodine after a passle of Granny's hog jowls.

But I know where it all really came from: her lawyers.

Draw up a chair, I'm gonna tell you a story about the divorce of a male friend of mine who was in a similar situation. Wife, young daugther, not rich but with a couple of houses they'd purchased together (they both worked long hours). Their divorce started friendly enough with both agreeing that for their daughter it would be as non-stressful as possible.

This lasted until their first visits to their lawyers. My friend related how his lawyer kept saying things like "You know if you do this or say that, you stand a better position to get the thing." He didn't pay any attention until suddenly from out of his wife's camp, similar type requests began surfacing. Bitter court claims ensued and because of it the divorce dragged out making everyone the loser.

Except the laywers that is. Who sat there racking up billable hours in my friends case; and most likely a share of the spoils as well in the McCartney/Mills case.

You can just see Heather Mills' lawyer, JD degrees (and past victims heads) on the wall behind him, like a real-life Grima Wormtongue leaning over her shoulder, rubbing his dry stick like hands together and whispering whispering "You say he took an occasional sleeping pill when he was having trouble sleeping? You poor dear living with a man who's a drug addict. You deserve compensation for that pain and suffering. Yessss. Yessss."

There oughta be a law.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Food...

I think the Aussies fall somewhere between England and the US when it comes to food. Not that the US is in any stretch of the imagination the land of haute cuisine, but I do think because of the large immigrant makeup of what makes the (now) 300 million people there has been an amazing diversity in American cuisine.

So what's here, my countrymen back home might ask?

Well I think the oddest thing they eat here is what they affectionately call "meat pies." Now once any Americans reading this get their minds out of the gutter (shame on you!), they are actually hand-sized tarts of flaky crust containing a meat gravy mixture.

And are they ever available here! You can get them flash frozen, from street vendors, and from bakeries. Served with gravy on top, with a side salad, and in a plate of mushy peas (don't get me started). They come filled with beef, chicken, lamb, or even vegetarian. For lunch. For dinner. On the run. They are considered the height of deliciousness and people here will drive miles to go to a bakery that makes "the best meat pies."

Can any American even think of using the words "best", "meat", and "pie" together in a sentence other than to say "I had a Swanson pot pie last night and meat was so nasty it was the best feeling to throw it away."

Another thing they do that cracks me up is sell you slices of bread in coffee shops and such for about, oh, $3 for 2 toasted slices. Of course, this price is in Australian dollars which means you really paid about 45-cents US, so that makes it more palatable. But when I first expressed astonishment at seeing this displayed in a bakery case I was met with that blank "WTF!" look I'm so used to these days.

What I'd love to do is turn them loose at Jim's Steaks on South Street in Philadelphia. Once faced with that greasy array of options and a sweaty tattooed overweight grill guy braying"Waddayawantandmakeitfastoryousegotodaendofdaline!" they'll crumble like the crust on one of their meat pies.

Then I'll have my revenge.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: On the road...

I mean they do it all over the world. Driving, I mean. Only here they take it to a form not seen since Exit 11 off the New Jersey Turnpike.

First off? No solid lines between traffic. Yep. All the roads, including the major ones simply have the same white dashed lines all over, punctuated from time-to-time with cement curb-height bumps where the center would be, designed to be just at the right height to rip the exhaust system clean off your car.

Want more road danger? Their telephone poles on the side of the road, called Stobie poles, are made of concrete and steel. That's right, hit one of those and say hello to Jesus, my friend. Some people say it's because the termite problem is so bad that wooden poles wouldn't last. I say, it's the reason there are only 25 million people on this whole continent: It's some sort of perverse population control mechanism devised by the roads department.

Then there's the fact that there are cars here you will not find anywhere in the world. Not because they're unique, just that everywhere else junked them long ago. I'm talking Gremlins, Novas, Ford Fairlanes. It's a veritable "Island of Mis-fit Cars." You know, that Christmas stop-action island where Santa left toys too weird to give as gifts? Like the train engine with square wheels? That's what Australia is for cars. Maybe it's the climate. Maybe Santa has an extra large sleigh. But here they are. Death traps moving on four wheels since these things were long before safety devices. Again, population control.

Finally there's a maneuver I call the "dart and switch", where they dart out of a side road in the teeth of solid wall of oncoming traffic and switch right into your lane going well below the speed limit. I saw one get their come-uppance yesterday when they didn't switch quite fast enough from the dart and got sideswiped by one of the on-coming cars. "NOVICE!!!" an old lady screamed out her car window as she disappeared in a cloud of noxious fumes.

Yep, these guys play for keeps here.

Of course, Australians seem to accept all this with the same stolid incuriosity they meet all such things that puzzle the rest of the world: With a bright "G'day, mate!" and a cheery wave.

Meanwhile, I'm terrified some AMC Alliance will misjudge the dart, have it's brake system ripped out by those median bumps, hit a concrete and steel telephone pole and wind up careening into me.

Now THAT, gentle readers, is terror.

- Farmer Ted

Sometimes a DVD is just a DVD...

Being on my own here, I've been finding I have a bit of free time on my hands. Expecting this, I packed about two-dozen DVD of movies and TV series that I enjoyed back home. One of these is the movie Se7en, arguably one of the creepiest movies I've ever seen and one of my top 10 thrillers.

And no, I won't go into my Desert Island Movies, okay.

One of the things I look forward to are the extras on the discs. I just LOVE them! I watch all the deleted scenes and turn on the commentaries and watch the entire movie again. To me, the commentaries add to my enjoyment by increasing the understanding of what's behind the movie.

So hearing the director, David Fincher, and especially the writer, Andrew Kevin Walker, discuss Se7en while watching the film made it even more incredible. If you liked the film as much as I do, things to consider:

There is no explicit violence in the film - it's all implied. Yet many people claim there was because it was directed to make you complete the acts in your mind.

Writer Walker wrote the movie while living in New York City - a city he hated. He wrote Se7en as a gift to NYC for the misery it made him feel. Walker is from Mechanicsburg, PA. He also is the first dead body you see in the movie.

The Brad Pitt character, "David Mills", was originally screenwritten for Denzel Washington.

Kevin Spacey was an outside shot for serial killer "John Doe": he was too expensive. Only when the studio relented and increased the budget was he able to be signed.

"The head in the box" ending was the original screen write of the movie but almost didn't make it. Only intense lobbying of the producer by Walker, Pitt, and Morgan Freeman stopped the ending from being written having Mills crash in to save his wife (played by Gwenyth Paltrow) from Doe, killing Doe in the process.

Of course, sometimes it doesn't pay to read too much into all this. On an episode of The Simpsons I just saw, "Apu" meets up with a cartoon version of Butch Patrick who played "Eddie Munster" and asks him, "If your father was a Frankenstein and your mother was a vampire, why were you a werewolf?"

Good question. Guess sometimes you can just plain over-analyze anything.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Money...

Did you know they don't use pennies in Australia? They have bills plus $2 and $1 coins; 50-, 20-, 10- and 5-cents peices -- but no pennies. It's not because of things not costing any number of cents, but somehow the Aussies have bought into practice the idea of rounding to the nearest multiple of five in order to eliminate the need for pennies in circulation.

So how do they manage this? Well, I was pretty surprised when following a purchase I got the receipt only to see the entry "Rounding" with the amount "0.01" cheerfully and boldy printed next to it. Of course that penny was computed to round UP to the nearest nickel. "Does it ever round down?" I wondered. Who knows. No one in front of me in line was complaining about the practice, though.

A completely random and biased survey of citzens revealed first puzzlement as to what I was talking about; and then the startled "Oh yeah! They do do that, don't they mate!" followed by the rueful laugh. My then asking if merchants ever rounded down was met with laughter so loud I swear even a kookaburra was startled off the old gum tree.

"But there's a bright side to it!" they always hasten to point out, "Purchases with credit cards aren't rounded!"

Gee. Thanks.

- Farmer Ted

That little white guy...

It was one of those moments frozen in history that are indelibly stamped in time. I'm talking about the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City in which Tommie Smith and John Carlos when, at the awarding of their medals on the podiums during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner, raised their fist in a black power salute in silent protest against racism in the US. Smith and Carlos were sent home the next day by the US Olympic Committee.

What we Americans don't pay attention to is the little guy on the left. His name was Peter Norman, an Australian, and he played a part in supporting this moment, knowing of it in advance and helping in the execution by suggesting the pair of gloves that Smith and Carlos are wearing (which why one has his left fist up and the other his right).

The three of them remained friends since that fateful day.

Mr Norman passed away yesterday at the age of 64.

I've always held the belief that great moments in history are made up a thousand little stories. Mostly untold. Mostly unknown. And mostly unsung. Even Mr Norman was censured by the Olympic Committee for his part in the protest.

I do wonder if I've ever contributed to such a moment, even in a small way.

Guess I'll never know.

But I know about Mr Norman now.

- Farmer Ted

Innocence lost...

I do feel such sorrow for the people touched by the recent tragedy at a small Amish one-room schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania. From my limited contact with the Amish and Mennonites (who to the Amish are practically decadent, believe it or not), I knew the murderer was not Amish.

So Dubya, I guess feeling that he has to do something to appear like he cares, will be holding a summit trying to connect the recent shootings in Colorado, Wisconsin, and now Pennsylvania. To me, any fool can see that the only thing that connects them is the tragedy of these schools being used as killing fields by disturbed people. Each perpetrator was completely different: one was a student, in another a deranged drifter, and finally an (to all accounts) otherwise stable father who snapped. Plus each community and type of school was different. Going back to Dubya's ill-conceived gesture, most likely he'll wind up doing what he always does when faced with a problem: look blank and then hide behind a heartfelt prayer, rather than there be any real outcome.

Who knows what the answer is? Perhaps there is no one answer. Maybe it's a combination of many things whose final tragic outcome was enabled by the ready accessibility of guns.

What I do know for certain is that for so many children and so many families, there is innocence irretrievably lost.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Sports...

Australians like the oddest sports. Like cricket. This was made vivid to me when I looked in the newspaper and saw a local sporting goods store advertising a sale on cricket bats. Tell me, have you ever seen any circular in the states even include cricket bats? I haven't.

They also love rugby and have two major leagues - the Australian Football League (AFL) and the National Rugby League (NRL). As both held championships this weekend with lotsa press coverage, I've noticed some things about rugby compared to American football.

American football players are fat-assed slobs. I say this because, from what I've seen, there is no such thing as a fat rugby player. What with all that running back and forth across the field and bumping into each other as mysteriously as those plastic men on those vibrating NFL games you got as a kid at Christmas that never really worked right, they are all fit as hell.

Rugby players are glorified brawlers. This is easy to tell because they tackle, hit, and slam into each other with no body protection other than a team logo and a mouthguard. This makes them either incredibly tough or incredibly stupid. Either way, you gotta admit they would be the ones to have your back in a bar fight.

US football teams only pick rugged team names. Here there are rugby teams with names like the Swans, the Waratahs (a type of flower, ferchrissake) and the Rabbitohs. Hardly imagery US teams would even consider since there's nothing rough and tough about a rabbit.

Finally, Australians love their rugby in a way the US can only dream of. That was easy to see if you look at attendance of the recently completed championships: 97,000 (AFL) and 85,000 (NRL). Not only do we just not do venues like this, but because Australia's population is small (1/10 of the US) this meant a statistically significant portion of the population actually attended the matches. And this is with two leagues.

Hmm. What did I do with my old USFL coffee mug, anyway?

- Farmer Ted

Travel travails...

Doing my best Sheryl Crow imitation:

This ain't no disco
It ain't no country club either
This is LA!

Yes, I'm in LA. The thing is, I should be halfway around the world already on a trip to Australia.

After boarding the plane on-time at 6pm last night in Philadelphia, we sat on the runway for FOUR HOURS waiting for a predicted storm to pass through. Unfortunately, we sat all that time with no food, refreshments, or entertainment -- from which I'm hard pressed to find the difference between that and a regular flight. This means that, of course, by the time we got to LA my connecting flight to Australia was a mere jet fuel fume memory.

They did rebook me on the same flight the next day. As you would expect.

So I'm here at a LA airport hotel looking out at a rather uninspiring vista of some unnamed freeway dimly seen through a haze of smog and a buncha light industry plants. I can't really complain though: At least I got the hotel and vouchers for free meals. Some passengers got nothing but sympathy and a bench in LAX, from what I understand.

The downside? They didn't give us our luggage back meaning by the time I arrive in Australia I hope everyone stays upwind of me.

So look for the tone of these postings to shift a bit as I work my way through The Land Down Under. If you'll excuse mixed metaph... I mean, "musical group references."

- Farmer Ted

Gesundheit...

A friend just sent me a news article saying that researchers at the University of Rochester Medical Center have developed a vaccine they claim can wipe out ear and sinus infections. As I am suffering (and suffering is the key word) from a sinus infection now I have only five words to say about this: "Where. Do. I. Sign. Up."

- Farmer Ted

Poor little rich girl...

I'm talking about Paris Hilton, of course. Tell me, did any of you even know she had released her debut album over the summer? Neither did anyone else in the US where it sold a dismal 75,000 units its first week of release. Other problems have beset the heiress turned music artist:

There will be no tour to support the album. Why? Because Paris Hilton cannot sing live. This is readily admitted by her publicist. Maybe if the tour included her singing in a shower she would sound better?

A mysterious artist calling himself "Bansky" has defaced the CD inner artwork at several UK stores, superimposing a dog's head on Paris' body. CD in the UK are typically sold without shrink wrap or the security seals madeningly common here in the US. The discs inside were then switched with a 40-min remixed CD by a DJ calling himself "DM". Rumor is that the culprit is Danger Mouse (of Gnarls Barkley fame). As you may have guessed, only the doctored CD are valuable.

Ms Hilton was charged for DUI in Los Angeles. The heiress claimed it was due to one drink after a day of not eating anything. Meanwhile, while discussing the incident on an LA radio station she admitted to having been eating and drinking around town all day.

Guess money can't buy everything, huh?

- Farmer Ted