Driving up Constitution Avenue this evening, I saw the white panel vans and satellite dishes staked out in front of the Court. Waiting on news from Special Prosecutor Fitzgerald. To indict or not to indict, that is the question.

The superstitious–who aren’t babbling about some made up curse of the Goat, Bambino, or Frying Pan (I made the last one up myself)–are also talking about the curse of the second term. You know, when the administration gets caught up in a big ole’ scandal and implodes. Leaving the American public waiting 2 or 3 years for executive branch leadership?

Listing out recent second term scandals we have the Reagan Iran-Contra scandal. You remember the one when we traded arms to our ENEMIES for hostages, which we would never do since we don’t negotiate with terrorists, right? Then there was the Clinton, tawdry oral sex and the stained blue dress in the Oval Office scandal, in which he didn’t have sex with that woman. And now the Bush-43 scandal, the one with top guys pulling the wool over the eyes of the world to get us to war with Iraq. You know, starting a war is a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition!

Wait! Hold everything.

We have two foreign policy and terror scandals. People died. And in between is the sex scandal in which nobody dies. One of these things is not like the others.

I admit I am a wimp. I hate scary movies. I even have issues with Abbott & Costello Meets Frakenstein.

Clearly movies full of suspense and mayhem–especially if the freak murderer can’t be killed–are popluar. Not for me, but it makes me wonder what others get out of this genre.

It seems trite to say that the thrill is catharsis. Like people leave the theatre and say, “God, I feel so much better that I didn’t get slashed into little bits by some psycho freak with a bunch of scars from when someone tried to kill him by various means including stabbing, burning, exploding, and ancient rites. I only know like one rite.”

I think that some people do like to be scared. They leave the theatre and say. “That was so cool.” Me, I leave the theatre and stop every third or fourth step to turn around and make sure I’m not being followed. Sometimes I even see something. I prefer NOT to be scared. For me, it’s too scary.

Last night’s question by the 14-year old really provides food for thought.

Him: “If you were best man at a wedding, would it kind of ruin a toast–one that was really beautiful and thoughtful–if you said at the very end, ‘Hey Jim, XYZ’?”

Me: “Well, yes.”

I think that I am getting to be obsessed with time. Today’s aspect of this obsession has to do with procrastination.

But I think that I will blog about it at a later time. NO! I really mean it.

It’s a terror threat. No, it’s just terror babble.

It’s both! If you live in New York and are one of the more than 4 million folks who use the subways, you saw a city taking terror talk very seriously with bag searches and undercover officers throughout the public transportation system.

If you are INSIDE the beltway, it’s just business as usual. Be careful, but don’t get all worried about the men actually arrested in Iraq in this terror plot.

It’s not like last year, when there were specific threats in the financial sector without mention of a time frame. We closed down sidewalks around the World Bank here in D.C., as well as protective services keeping people off the sidewalks in front of the Treasury Building. And let’s not forget the NYPD in riot gear on Wall Street.

So some people think that the guys arrested were just blowing smoke–that the threat is just not credible, but the Mayor of New York decided against taking a chance with the lives of his citizens. What would the President have said if this were an election year?

Okay, why does John Kerry think that he represents the Democratic Party? Why does the Democratic Party feature him as a fundraising draw?

It’s morning in America, and Senator Kerry you LOST!!

I am not a political operative like Rove or Carville, but I can say that mostly Americans don’t like losers. Even though we try to hate the Yankees, we can’t. They are winners. We like winners.

So, when the phone rings and the guy on the other end says, “I’m from the DNC and John Kerry wants you to support a bill on education,” I say, “who cares??? The guy isn’t the president, and he doesn’t represent me. He LOST!” Poor guy on the phone was dumbstruck. I continued, “You want money?”

Guy on phone: Yes
Me: Why would I give another penny to the loser?
Guy on phone: Goodbye

Here’s my thing, let’s stop dragging out loser retreads and move toward real conversation and leadership. And let’s not make it anti-bush, how about pro-making America a better place?

Helping is a good thing. I am not against helping. I like to help, and I certainly can use some help.

That being said, I found myself reflecting on helping recently. People help with different motivation. I am not talking about the obvious quid pro quo. There are some subtle motivations, that I don’t think we normally see. Like my dad is sick, and I see the family trying to help him for different reasons. Not like any of them are bad. In fact, all are based on overflowing love. But sometimes tied around childhood wants, adult needs, or fear of not knowing what’s next.

This doesn’t mean that the help is tainted, or even of any lesser value. It is just coming from different places. I just hadn’t thought of that before.

Hurricane Katrina. Her with the killer, red-eye. Her winds reaching out to the gulf shores as if tendrils from her Medusa head. The 24/7 news frenzy is being fed by the worst case scenarios–what if the storm was faster? What if the storm landed 20 miles to the East? What if the bodies came out of the coffins creating a New Orleans “toxic gumbo?”

This isn’t news. This is just making up titillating scenarios. In the 50’s, there were monster movies. In the 70’s there were a bunch of disaster movies, some natural, some man-made. It’s the 2000’s and we have 24/7 evil fantasy storm a la George Romero. Turn off the channel. I’m afraid already. I can’t sleep.

Think New Year’s Day, January 1. Then there’s Chinese New Year, and Rosh Hashanah. There are even more religious and cultural celebrations of the a new year. (Gotta love that Wikipedia!)

For me, though, the new year starts in September. Now that’s a beginning.

New Year’s Eve–some ball dropping in NYC–and I bet that all the Doc’s visitors have at least once just gone to bed at 11 (or 10?) rather than hold out. And what does the “New Year” bring? Bowl games, black-eyed peas for luck, and, for some, hair of the dog. January 1 seems pretty arbitrary. Something to cap the Christmas holidays, but more winter ahead.

Now September, there is a beginning. First, it is the end of summer, and, unless you are dead (and who knows?), the end of something usually means the beginning of something. Like fall. Relief from scorching August days. Earlier sunsets. The first time you put on long pants and shoes after a summer of bare legs. And, of course, back to school. New haircuts, new shoes, new teachers, and the step up into the next grade. The time to get serious, down to business. Put back on the ties and pantyhose.

A new year. Happy New Year! Boy, what a great excuse for mid-term champagne.

Cindy Sheehan doesn’t speak for the majority of military families who have suffered losses in Iraq, according to the Prez. So, we are going to stay the course and he doesn’t need to speak with her.

The current administration believes with all it’s political heart that since they “won” in 2000 and won in 2004, they can do what they want. I thought, though, the founders of our great country wanted to protect minority interests. There was a lot of discussion and–here’s a concept–COMPROMISE to come up with a representative democracy.

The Prez is president for all in the country, the least he can do is listen. His obligation is to do the best for us all. Maybe opposing views can inform decisions?

Nah!