No shame is quite so stinging as that felt after fuming at the sheer effrontery of the fates in inconveniencing you -- yes, important you, with places to go, people to see, things to do -- with maddening stop-and-go traffic on the interstate, and then you come across that nasty accident blocking part of the road and it occurs that some people might have it worse than you today after all. Perspective, self. Perspective. And maybe a Hail Mary, too, while you're at it.

Never mind Invisible Obama, but I'm pretty pumped for Invisible Biden.

The overwhelming question for Republicans coming out of last night's convention festivities: "So, what, Chuck Norris wasn't available?" #Clint

I fear Roger Goodell is sending a bit of a mixed message with the new slogan he just unveiled. "NFL 2012: Let's Get Concussed!" And, oh, sweet Lord, there's a new Hank Jr. anthem to go with it too.

Oh crap, this is getting really sad. They can't get Clint out of the hall. He stopped in the lobby and struck up a conversation with a coat rack; thinks it's Clyde the orangutan from "Every Which Way But Loose."

Oh my God, now he's gained the power to make himself invisible on top of being black, socialist and Muslim. It's even worse than we feared!

Yay me! Reached a big milestone on my bucket list yesterday -- my 3,000th KFC meal. Goal is to hit 8,000 before I die.

What?! Mitt Romney is a MORMON? Hell, all this time I thought he was a Norman. Well, this changes everything. I got no problem with a Mormon in the White House. Just didn't want a damn Viking in there, pillaging and stuff.

So, it's Clint, Marco and Mitt tonight. Cue the Ennio Morricone soundtrack for "The Irascible, The Tea Partier and The Whatever He Has To Be To Get Elected."

But for very brief, silly crushes on John Anderson, Paul Tsongas and Bruce Babbitt that I blame on the callowness of youth, I’ve never really fallen in love with a politician. Even the best of them will look people in the eye and lie with utter conviction and absolute sincerity, even as they glibly betray principles they claim to uphold and sell their believers down the river. So, I find my conservative friends’ current infatuation with Paul Ryan as mystifying as my liberal friends’ adulation of Obama four years ago. Pick one to vote for, by all means, but don’t give your heart away, people.

I think my personal trainer has given up. When I showed up at the gym this morning, he handed me a pack of cigs and a plate of nachos, said “knock yourself out” and walked away.

WWJP (What Would Jesus Post)? I dunno, but probably way too many likenesses of Himself or His mother found in toast, tree bark, wherever. "LOL guys check this out, it's Me!!!!" Ugh. Can't unfriend Him, though.

Ah, the Republican Convention – a week when a few strategically placed African-Americans and Hispanics in the hall will get so much screen time it’s like they're starring in their own reality show.

Complaints about lack of media coverage for the GOP Convention are pretty silly. In fact, it's gonna be standing-room-only in the press gallery this afternoon for Todd Akin's PowerPoint, "Lady Parts -- Who Knows WHAT'S Going On Down There, Am I Right, Guys!?"

GOP Convention emergency alert: If Isaac waters rise, please remember that Donald Trump's ego can be used as a flotation device.

A teetotalers' GOP Convention drinking game: Take a swig every time George W. Bush is mentioned.

GOP Convention hall evacuation plans issued: Women and people of color (party can’t afford to lose a single one of ‘em) first. Todd Akin and Steve King last.

Came across one of those periodic articles about Americans' math shortcomings on the Web this morning -- suggested a new way of teaching it. Hell with it, I think we're doing just fine. Besides, the new method didn't look that much different than what we're doing now. Five of one, half a dozen of another, if you ask me.

"That's one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind." Neil Armstrong came up with that line, one of the most memorable in history, himself, with the help of his wife. If the moon landing happened today, NASA would hire a marketing firm to do two years of research and come up with multiple alternatives. They'd try the different lines out on focus groups, probably have congressional commi

ttees review them. The winning quote, which would rhyme or produce some ghastly acronym, would be the subject of a carefully planned viral marketing campaign and a tie-in with a fast-food chain, which would emblazon the quote on collector drink cups and its marquees, probably with an improperly used apostrophe.

Good luck to parents of young children who are sitting their children down today to try to explain how someone who never appeared on a reality show or slugged a paparazzo, got arrested for domestic abuse, shilled for a fad diet or a faintly disreputable financial scheme, spent multiple sessions at a celebrity drug-abuse treatment center, hit a baseball, caught a football, or made a basket, got busted for taking performance-enhancing drugs, appeared in a viral video or wrote a tell-all biography that threw friends and family under the bus could possibly be a hero.

Can't wait for the special section in the Sunday Lincoln Journal Star: "Hosers: Watering Offenders Registry," complete with mugshots and maps.

Oh boy, Romney's on a roll now with the birther jokes. At a rally this morning, Romney: "Knock knock." Crowd: "Who's there?" Romney: "Obama's birth certificate." Crowd: "Obama's birth certificate who?" Romney: "Exactly!" Then, "Obama's birth certificate walks into a bar and says, 'give me a drink, I have a frog in my throat.'" Bartender: "Did you say 'a fraud in your throat?'" And: "Take Obama's birth certificate. Please!" Finally, advisers pulled Mitt off the stage in the middle of "Obama's birth certificate just flew in from Kenya and boy, are his --"

As to the disappointing news of this week, from near and far: The only way to never be let down or feel betrayed by other people is never to trust or have faith in anyone, and that’s no way to live, is it?

Already bracing for the next bombshell: Lance Armstrong never even had testicles.

Run of bad luck for NFL: Just days after Ravens' fans may have been exposed to rabies from contact with a bat during a game, Chiefs' fans Friday night were exposed to raw sewage.

Crap, I think I forgot how to use an umbrella. I’m completely soaked and the canopy is full of water. Ugh.

Guess I'll break out my Live Wrong wristband today. :(

Like many in Lincoln, I've been struggling with what I think and what I want to say about the Charlie Rogers matter. I guess it's this: As a card-carrying cynic, incorrigible doubter of my fellow human beings and old newspaper cops reporter, I had serious doubts about her story from Day 1, but though it appears I may have been right, I'm not here to gloat. Rather, to say that I'm sure glad I don't live in a community where everyone is as cynical and suspicious as I am. It would be an unpleasant place to live indeed.

And this, too: Don't hate others or be a bigot, of course, but also, let's not be quick to accuse others of hatred and bigotry just because they disagree with us.

Great. So LGBT wasn't enough? Is it because it sounds like a deli special (lettuce, guacamole, bacon and tomato)? Now, you wanna go with LGBTQQA (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Questioning and Allied)? What's next -- LGBTQQAEOICWIWRDBIDT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Questioning and Allied, Experimented Once In College When I Was Really Drunk But It Didn't Take)? No, no, no. Please don't ask me to choose between my tolerance for people and my intolerance for butchery of the language. That will end badly.

I got no beef with that meth lab next door, but dammit, their green lawn is really starting to piss me off. I'm calling the cops.

Next week on “Criminal Minds”: A bloody murder spree in a Midwestern city goes unchecked when the killers' accomplices deliberately keep police busy on the other side of town with illegally running sprinklers.

I hear a guaranteed pickup line in Lincoln bars these days is "Hey, baby, tomorrow's my day to water. How 'bout we go to my place and you can unreel my hose?"

You know, if the average congressional representative tries to do any legitimate thinking, the body has a way of shutting that whole brain down.

Wow. Andrew Yoder and Todd Akin. These things come in threes, don't they? Which is why John Boehner is desperately trying to track down Michele Bachmann to put her into protective custody.

Water restrictions: Laying odds and getting even

The Omaha World-Herald reports some Lincoln homeowners ticketed for outside watering violations Monday "had difficulty distinguishing whether their addresses were odd- or even-numbered.”

Huh?

All right, folks, let’s head back over to Tom Casady’s brown lawn and go over this again, shall we? First, do you know your address? If not, check the note sewn inside your clothing by your loved ones to be consulted in case you're ever found wandering around aimlessly and talking to imaginary friends in the middle of some busy street. Now, remember, it’s the first number, not the last one, in your address that counts, OK? Now, raise your two hands and look at them. Yes, you’ll have to get your thumb out of your ass and finger out of your nose first. 

OK, Pointer, Ring Man and Thumbkin are 1, 3 and 5; those are odd. Tall Man and Pinky are 2 and 4; they’re even. Oops, I’m sorry, I held Tall Man up a little too long for emphasis, didn’t I? Sorry, that wasn’t very nice.

Yes, go ahead and label them with a marker if that helps. Now, look at your other hand. WHAT, you’ve got the finger back in your nose again already?! Oy.

Now, take your street address and subtract from it the combined age of everyone in your household, then divide it by the number of letters in your street’s name and add the number of wins you expect the Huskers to have this season. 

Check that out: The answer is always 114. Cool, huh? How can that be? 

Sorry, digression. Now, grab your hose, but only using Thumbkin and Tall Man, and thrust the nozzle as deep as you can up your ...

Oh, the hell with it. We're just gonna cut off ALL water to you people and let Darwin’s Law run its course.

In the interest of fairness and balance, I have to say I would love to hear Joe Biden explain where babies come from. #ToddAkin

No surprise here, I guess: Rep. Todd Akin (Nimrod-Mo.) just fired Dr. Spaceman and Dr. Nick from his science advisory team.

Interesting historical note: After ditching the old rhythm method, the Catholic Church endorsed "shutting that whole thing down" as the acceptable family planning choice for the faithful. Thank God Natural Family Planning came along a few years later. #ToddAkin

OK, everyone, let's give Rep. Todd Akin (Nimrod-Mo.) a break. He likely has some personal experience with the female body "shutting that whole thing down."

Dear Mayor: Lincolnites seem to be complying pretty well with your outside watering restrictions. However, could the city advise just how much water streets, driveways and sidewalks need to keep from dying? There seems to be some confusion on that point. Thank you.

I'm taking my 16-year-old daughter, Sarah Moser, to see Springsteen in concert in November. She's not a fan and is not too enthusiastic, but a father has certain responsibilities in raising his children right, and this is one of them. I'm tempted to take her to see Dylan this fall, too, but I won't push my luck. I took one of my young sons to see Bob once, and the boy slept through the show. That's been over 10 years ago, and he hasn't made it back into my will yet.

40 Greatest Rock Songs Ever -- My List

OK, I made a list. Inspired by a list put together by Father Joseph Faulkner, who, in addition to being an excellent man of God turns out to be a heckuva rocker, too. If anyone else takes the bait and compiles their own list, please share it with me.

These are songs that stop me in my tracks every time. They're never old. I'd like them played at my funeral (a special dispensation, Father?) Some have personal meaning because of where or who I was when they came along. Others don't. I tried to stay away from the really obvious choices that usually make these lists; in fact, deliberately didn't consult any other "greatest" lists other than Father's, though some of the obvious choices are here. I also tried not to deliberately choose songs I knew most people haven't heard in some pathetic attempt to prove my superiority in taste ("Louisiana 1927" probably falls into that category, but no way was Randy Newman not making my list). I included links to just a few songs that might be unfamiliar.

As for the order of songs, No. 1 is solid but after that there's nothing scientific about where songs are placed, so I didn't even number the rest. I made a rule -- no more than one song per artist. Arbitrary and capricious to be sure, but my list, my rules. And then I went and broke the rule once, so sue me.

 I feel a bit self-conscious about the fact that this is so obviously the list of a 50-year-old white guy who hasn't heard much new music for 20 years or so, but so be it. I am somewhat troubled there aren't more female artists on it, but this isn't about trying to be politically correct; it's about what leapt to mind as my favorites this morning, without a lot of agonizing.

This is a supremely nerdy exercise, of course. But then I am a supreme nerd.

All that said, if I made another list tomorrow, it might have 39 completely different songs on it. I mean, there's no Lou Reed. No Paul Simon. No Janis Joplin. Oy.

1. "Thunder Road," Bruce Springsteen. I have a sneaking suspicion this is Bruce's favorite of his own songs. The opening harmonica and lyrics send a chill down my spine. Every. damn. time.

Which leads, naturally, to "Only the Lonely," Roy Orbison. Such a unique voice, he captured the sadness, the loss, the paranoia that's part of love, too.

"A Change is Gonna Come," Sam Cooke. Greatest civil rights anthem, made even more poignant by Cooke's tragic, all-too-early death

"Papa was a Rolling Stone," the Temptations. Motown shifts from great but innocent pop to topical and brutally honest. Must be heard in its original, 6-plus minute form because that lengthy instrumental intro absolutely sets the tone for what's to come.

"I Heard it Through the Grapevine," Marvin Gaye. Motown's greatest singer.

"Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap," AC/DC. Absolutely no redeeming social value. I guess that's why it's here.

"Reach Out I'll Be There," the Four Tops. Levi Stubbs, the second greatest Motown singer.

"Good Vibrations," Beach Boys. Was there ever a more aptly titled song?

"You've Lost That Loving Feeling," The Righteous Brothers. Producer Phil Spector's greatest. I still try to hit those high notes every time it comes on the radio; end up walking funny the rest of the day.

"I Never Loved a Man (the Way That I Love You)," Aretha Franklin. Greatest singer ever? Bonus: features one of the greatest studio ensembles ever, the Muscle Shoals house band.  http://bit.ly/GQk6iS

"Rave On," Buddy Holly. For that opening  "A we-a-e-a-ell, the little things you say and do make me want to be with you-a-hoo." http://bit.ly/dmyzJB

"Fortunate Son," Creedence Clearwater Revival. Vietnam-era classic, one of the angriest songs ever.

"London's Burning," the Clash. Speaking of angry rock, they billed themselves as "The Only Band That Matters." Ridiculous, of course, but Lord, did they matter.

"Gimme Shelter"/"You Can't Always Get What You Want," the Rolling Stones. Cheating here, but I can't separate them. They open and close "Let it Bleed," with complete terror and utter decadence, respectively.   

"You Can't Be Too Strong," Graham Parker. One of the legions of angry young punks who arose in Thatcher's England in the '70s, with a remarkably nuanced song about abortion. Personal, not political, and quite astonishing still. http://bit.ly/Nw0kiD

"That's Alright Mama," Elvis Presley. Was tempted to go with "Suspicious Minds," but this one is Where It All Began, and oh my God, it's tremendous.

"Desolation Row," Bob Dylan. Bypassing the usual choice, "Like a Rolling Stone," which is indeed tremendous. This is just a lyrical tour-de-force; no idea what it all means, really, and it just doesn't matter. Love those "El Paso" guitars too.

"Stop Your Sobbing," the Pretenders, covering the Kinks. Majestic.

"You Really Got Me," the Kinks. I thought about "Lola," one of my favorite radio singalongs ever, because the song just makes me laugh every time I hear it. But in the end, that out-of-control guitar solo wins out. 

"Feel like Goin' Home," Charlie Rich. Yeah, I guess Charlie was a country singer, sort of. But he was also a great rock and blues singer. This one makes the list because it's just so beautifully sad. http://bit.ly/SALlVl

"Cypress Avenue," Van Morrison. Van is my desert-island artist, the one whose works I could not be without if stranded … etc., etc. From one of my two or three favorite albums of all time, "Astral Weeks." Struggled mightily between this one and "Madame George." http://bit.ly/NbeaFD

"I Fought the Law," the Bobby Fuller Four. Tough Texas '60s punk. 

"Great Balls of Fire," Jerry Lee Lewis. Amazing that Jerry Lee is the last of those original Sun artists alive. Must be all that clean living.

"Folsom Prison Blues," Johnny Cash. 'Cause it has the most badass lyric ever. "I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die." Now, THAT'S gangsta.

"Lawyers, Guns and Money," Warren Zevon. I really miss him; not ashamed to say hearing his music makes me cry every time. I haven't gone home with a waitress ever since I heard this one. See, rock 'n' roll CAN teach important life lessons. 

"Hey Hey My My," Neil Young. Young's warm response to punk rock. Available in acoustic and rocking versions on "Rust Never Sleeps," both terrific. "It's better to burn out than to fade away." Neil's done neither. http://bit.ly/ucBN4e

"The Weight," The Band. Beautifully mysterious and mystical. How is it that a bunch of Canadians -- with one Arkansan, the recently late Levon Helm -- managed to make some of the most evocatively American rock of all time?

"Memphis Egypt," the Mekons. Great, long-lived English punkers who are incapable of being boring or predictable. Head man Jon Langford is one of my all-time rock 'n' roll heroes. http://bit.ly/NyHHid

"What's So Funny (About Peace, Love and Understanding)," Elvis Costello. Written by Elvis's buddy, the wonderful Nick Lowe. Hearing Mr. Costello's second album, "This Year's Model," turned my musical tastes upside down unlike anything else. Of course, this song isn't from that album, but still.

"I Saw Her Standing There," the Beatles. I mean, really, how does one choose? 

"Superstitions," Stevie Wonder. If you want to hear an artist in an incredible groove, listen to Stevie's mid-70s albums. Brilliant.

"That's How Strong My Love Is," Otis Redding. I dunno -- maybe "Respect" or "Try a Little Tenderness"? Whatever. Damn airplanes.

"What'd I Say," Ray Charles. Obvious but truly groundbreaking and just a helluva lotta fun.

"Louisiana 1927," Randy Newman. His movie soundtrack work pays his bills -- handsomely, I assume -- but I feel bad for anyone not familiar with Newman's other stuff. One of the most scabrous, misanthropic, funny songwriters ever, though this scene setter about the flooding Mississippi River is none of the above. http://bit.ly/Nv1f4l

"Here Comes a Regular," the Replacements. The Mats spent more time on my turntable in the '80s than anyone.  A sad, bitter barroom lament. "Well, a person can work up a mean, mean thirst after a hard day of nothin' much at all." Paul Westerberg, what a freakin' songwriter. http://bit.ly/S5AXrh

"My Generation," the Who. Another obvious one, yes, but so is about any choice from them, I suppose. Seeing them live is near the top of my bucket list.

"Seven Nation Army," White Stripes. See, I HAVE heard some music since the '80s.

"Green Onions," Booker T & the MGs. Greatest instrumental ever.

"Have a Little Faith in Me," John Hiatt. Beautiful, like a prayer. http://bit.ly/MGklUI

"Johnny B. Goode," Chuck Berry. Rock 'n' roll guitar starts here.

"Night Train," James Brown. Funk starts here.

I think my life coach has about had it with me. Every time we meet now all she does is pelt me with lemons. :(

Just scored Springsteen tickets, and it's raining. I should just call it a day right now, 'cause it doesn't get any better than this.

What's so funny about peace, love and understanding and Adam Sandler?

Was gonna commit some hooliganism this weekend in solidarity with Pussy Riot, but I have no idea where to start. Advice, anyone?

Interestingly, the State Department's statement supporting Pussy Riot marks the first time it's used the p-word in an official capacity since those taunting communiques the Reagan administration used to send Gorbachev.

Don't be so paranoid. Not EVERYONE'S out to get you. Just the one Navy SEAL team.

"I disapprove of what you say. Therefore you are violating my freedom of speech."-- Voltaire, 2012

Say, did you hear the one about both presidential candidates and their entire campaign staffs stranded in the middle of the ocean in a single cramped, leaky lifeboat under a merciless sun, hungry sharks circling, with no water or food? Yeah, me neither. I sure would like to, though.

Controversial Obama plan aims to use drones to take out world leaders and keep Biden on nonstop global funeral tour until November.

It may be time for the Obama campaign to re-introduce Biden to the speeches of Neil Kinnock. I just think that would be safest.

The angst du jour at my daughter's Catholic high school is over the new uniform shorts, which, according to the buzz of the social media grapevine, are ugly and formless. Indeed they are. God bless that school. I believe teens should be forced to dress as hideously and sexlessly as possible. Were it up to me, I wouldn't let them out of the house in anything but floor-length burlap sacks, with nothing but head and arm holes cut out.

"Remember the a la mode!" -- restaurant patron reminding absent-minded waiter about his dessert order.

Today was my 20th parental first day of school. Someone should take a picture of me, dammit.

Of course having Clinton and Biden switch jobs is a great idea. I mean, what could go wrong with having a secretary of state with diarrhea of the mouth, after all?

It's not fair to accuse liberals of not caring about the shooting at the Family Research Council headquarters. The Obama Justice Department just announced profiling of all white men carrying Chik-fil-A bags.

Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it in summer school. So, study hard, kids.

I know I'm showing my age here, but I remember a time when it was considered an advantage for a presidential ticket to have two white guys on it.

Success of water restrictions depends on the basic human impulse to pull together as a community and sacrifice for the greater good. Also, the basic human impulse to tattle.

Helium shortage, so no balloon release for Huskers' touchdowns this season. It's just as well; the NU offense usually goes over more like a lead balloon anyway.

In memory of Helen Gurley Brown, president has asked women to lower their cleavage to half mast tomorrow.

First, no water. Now, no helium. I'm gettin' the hell outta this town before they start rationing oxygen or, hell, beer.

Don't be sad it's over. Be glad you cluttered your Facebook friends' news feeds with so many pictures of it, they're annoyed or jealous it happened.

I'm not proud of this, but having sampled some Olympic events and a little preseason football this month, I find that my interest level in a sport seems to be proportional to the likelihood of a competitor suffering a concussion. So, synchronized swimming? Well, I suppose it COULD happen, and wouldn't it be hilarious if they did knock their heads together mid-routine? But not likely. I guess what I'm saying is that I am ready for some football.

Been out picking produce in my garden, so yes, if you must know, that IS a cucumber in my pocket and no, I am not happy to see you.

Wow, great speech! I think my favorite part was when he bit the head off a live welfare recipient. #paulryan

Man, the ground is dry ... I said, MAN, THE GROUND IS DRY. (How dry is it?) Thank you. It's so dry that I peered through the cracked earth in my garden and saw a Chinese gardener looking through from the other side. Good deal, though: I traded some tomatoes for bamboo shoots. #HennyYoungmanDroughtJokes

A shout-out this morning to academia's tedious Ayn Rand scholars. They get a brief, shining moment -- op-eds, talk-show gigs -- before fading back into complete oblivian. #paulryan

I, for one, welcome our new lawn-sprinkler overlords.

I'll bet Pfizer's attorneys spend a lot of their time on Viagra claims and lawsuits. You know, pro-boner work.

Anybody know who's in Jets' camp this summer playing quarterback? I can't get a damn thing about it from ESPN.

Sometimes “love is the secret ingredient” is really subconscious code for “barely repressed passive-aggressive fury over the complete lack of appreciation for how I slave to feed you ungrateful pigs who might as well be eating slop from a trough given how you cannot stop shoveling it into your mouths long enough to say ‘thank you’ or even acknowledge my existence is the secret ingredient. Oh, and once or twice, spit.”

At least that’s how mom’s therapist has explained it to her.

"Geez, dad, you're going like 5 mph below the speed limit." #!%$MyTeenageDaughterSays

At the end of a tough day at work, at least NASA scientists can console themselves with "well, it IS rocket science."

It's great that a woman is getting a chance to officiate an NFL game tonight for the first time, but was it really necessary to dress her in a beach-volleyball bikini?

Drunk, naked and jailed is a nice start, Randy, but remember, you still need mama, a pickup truck and a train. #perfectcountrysong

At some point a NASA engineer is going to have to gently explain to the Curiosity rover that it’s not gonna get that big ticker-tape return parade it's expecting. Awkward.

Well, on the bright side, Randy Travis is gonna get one helluva country song outta this.

I dunno, I'm probably not cut out to be a white supremacist. If I were in a crappy band that no one listened to, got kicked out of the army, was drunk all the time, couldn’t keep a job, home or girlfriend and believed in the ethos of a guy who died a sniveling, cowardly death while hiding in a bunker, I’m afraid I might start to think I was actually INFERIOR to other people. And most other life forms, for that matter. But that’s me.

"Man, I'd like to land a rover on Uranus" -- old NASA joke, still makes scientists spew Mountain Dew out their noses

At a time when our political system approximates the world's biggest, unruliest child-care center, any worthless misanthrope with a grudge and a gun can summarily execute people at worship or a movie and the most famous people in our society seem to have been scraped from the bottom of the gene pool, isn't it grand that NASA still has the power to make our jaws drop with the incredible brilliance of human spirit, perseverance and creativity?

Sometimes “love is the secret ingredient” is really subconscious code for “barely repressed passive-aggressive fury over the complete lack of appreciation for how I slave to feed you ungrateful pigs who might as well be eating slop from a trough given how you cannot stop shoveling it into your mouths long enough to say ‘thank you’ or even acknowledge my existence is the secret ingredient. Oh, and once or twice, spit.”

At least that’s how mom’s therapist has explained it to her.

"Geez, dad, you're going like 5 mph below the speed limit." #!%$MyTeenageDaughterSays

At some point a NASA engineer is going to have to gently explain to the Curiosity rover that it’s not gonna get that big ticker-tape return parade it's expecting. Awkward.

NASA's other mission not getting much attention: Rover landed in Washington, D.C., to search for signs of intelligent life. A setback this morning: Sampling drill bit broke off on the hardpan in Harry Reid's head.

NASA's other mission not getting much attention: Rover landed in Washington, D.C., to search for signs of intelligent life. A setback this morning: Sampling drill bit broke off on the hardpan in Harry Reid's head.

Water polo might be a tolerable sport if you turned loose a couple of sharks in the water.

I'm gonna be too excited to sleep tonight. Tomorrow's my designated watering day. Hell with it, I'll just stay awake, fondling my sprinklers, waiting for midnight.

This just in: Brits cancel invitation to Romney to participate in Olympics opening ceremonies after word leaks of his plan to enter arena with a corgi strapped to the top of his car.

"Sometimes, you see, there's only one set of footprints in the sand because I can fly" -- the Lord, rolling his eyes, to one of his not-so-bright children.

Love the Games! I don't have just Olympic fever. I have Olympic flesh-eating bacteria.

I don't like to brag, but my superpower is the ability to make any silence instantly awkward.

The first rule of Debate Club: You do talk about Debate Club. The second rule of Debate Club: YOU DO TALK about Debate Club. The third rule of Debate Club: A dab of Mountain Dew will lift those Clearasil stains right out of a clip-on tie.

Lots of snarking about embarrassing screwups and miscues by organizers of the London Olympics, but on the positive side, word is the new ski-slalom track they built is stunning.