Michael Phelps said it was a regrettable decision he made to take a hit from a bong. That's probably true, God knows the move has cost him money. And I realize that he's 23, and thus not Mother Teresa by a long shot. You'd half-expect it from a 23-year-old, assuming he wasn't a sports immortal who broke a record that stood for 35 years, and probably won't be touched for another 35, at least. I think what he discovered that was more important, though, is that Hell hath no fury like an embarrassed mother. She was probably the first phone call he got after the news broke, and was, likely as not, screaming in his ear about having been such a bonehead. I can see this woman; the tirade starts with something like, "WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID?! I DIDN'T RAISE YOU LIKE THAT, BOY! D'YOU KNOW THE KIND OF HELL I WENT THROUGH SO YOU COULD BE WHO YOU ARE?!" Probably a motherly yank on the ear, or a swack across the dome with a newspaper, like a Retriever puppy who just peed on the white carpet, or a "DON'T THINK BECAUSE YOU HAVE THE MOST GOLD MEDALS IN HISTORY, AND ARE TWICE MY SIZE, I'M AFRAID OF YOU! I'M STILL YOUR MOTHER!" Ya know dam*ed well those words came into play somewhere. If you ask me, it doesn't dilute his accomplishment any, it just means he's human. Closer to godlike is "Sully" Sullenberger, pilot of the U.S. Air flight that landed in the Hudson River after a bird strike. Didja hear the tapes of this guy's cockpit demeanor as all this was happening?! It sounded, most notably, like another day at the office for this man, never mind the fact all Hell was breaking loose. Scr*w being an airline pilot, we need this man in the education profession! He'd be a great sub.....

On a completely different subject, in case I hadn't filled everyone in, Martha and I have a new car. Well, not new, new, but new to us. After some deliberation, test fitting and other portions of the process, we got a 2007 5-door Focus hatchback. Wierd as they are, thus far, it's still proving to be a great little car; 26,000 miles, which means it still has some bumper-to-bumper warranty left, a nice shade of burgundy, and....heated seats. I know at least few of my friends would question the value of such a contrivance, but they don't live in Michigan, either. The heated seats quickly proved to be one of the best parts of this car, to Martha and I both. And today, we got a little "thank you" package from the dealer we purchased it from. The package included and ice cream scooper (don't really see the connection to a car dealer, but okay.....) and a card. One of those where when you open it up, it plays a tune. In this case, the tune is the Dee-troit-famous jingle for this particular dealer, one the dealer has been promoting itself with since the 50s, at least. It sounds cheesy and antique, but it's kinda fun in a way, too. One of those ones that'd have any Detroiter over a given age humming along. I was amused by it, in that "oh, good Lord!" way all my friends and relatives are familiar with. Amusement mixed with trace amounts of humbug, but still on the funny side. In this day and age, the mileage is real plus, and Martha has a place to hang her "I'm Tuned In!" National Public Radio license plate frame. A happy addition, and we couldn't be much happier; from our toasty derrieres on up.