Bill Gates announced that he will transition out of his day-to-day role at Microsoft by July 2008 in order to spend more time working on the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, which focuses on global health and education.

His announcement reminded us of the plethora of graduation speeches that eager students imbibed across the land this spring. As we listened to the meritorious goals heaped on the recent graduates, so they might achieve goals the speakers generation has found impossible, we could not help but think, why doesnt somebody come out and tell the youthful aspirants what the real challenge is?

Like it or not, todays world, as well as many another age, is conducted by two primary forces: wealth and power, and, other than resort to firearms, power springs from wealth.

So if you want to influence the ways of this outrageously necessitous world, consider the stark truth that all power springs from the opening in a fat wallet. It’s called the economic basis of society but, in its current incarnation, in debilitating excess.

When we were recent graduates, we were not aware of such an uncompromising reality and passed up at least two opportunities to make megabucks because we wanted to preserve our mental energy to expend it toward the achievement of our ideals.

Had we been wiser, we would have set aside a few years to stuff our pockets with power and then, like Mr. Gates, have spent the rest of our days placidly pursuing those still-inspiriting ideals.

So we find ourselves, from our own experience, in the unlikely role of advising the most idealistic to enable their altruism by involving themselves, initially, in the activity they undoubtedly are convinced is not the most inviting.

Then, should you be fortunate enough to enable your financial independence, you may, like Mr. Gates, head off into full-time devotion to your undoubtedly meritorious idealisms.

Well, the speech probably would not have been one that would have inspired the administration to invite us back or that the students would have received with endorsement, but the sharp glass on the road through economic necessity is a fact not lightly to be dismissed. Ignore it and you may step on it with painful frequency.

Former President Bill Clinton has been holding secret talks with his wife and wannabe President Hillary and has, the rumor mill informs us, agreed to be her Vice Presidential candidate.

In an exclusive interview, he confided, Even though I want to help Hillary in every way I can, it wasn’t an easy decision. After all, if you remember, I was the President. But, since Ill be back in the White House, I decided I would rather have more to keep myself busy than just being Americas First Man.”

So, as 2008 draws nigh and the inevitable blizzard of questions to her on who she hopes to name as her running mate go discreetly unanswered, just remember you heard it here first that the resourceful husband and wife team plan to make another run for the White House.

Given the current state of Americas feelings about the comeuppances of the Republican tenure, there is actually a very high likelihood that the dedicated duo could once again be frolicking in the realms of Presidential empowerment. Only this time we would, of course, have President Hillary Clinton and Vice President Bill Clinton.

While Democrats cheer, Republicans may double over with wails of dread, while they reach out with hopeful hands for the now-flirtatious Rudy or the ever-coy Jeb.

As you no doubt have read, he lost a narrow race to a left-of-center challenger, who the deep-pocketed Berlusconi outspent many times over. Although Berlusconi continues to contest the vote, the Italian court ruled in favor of his opponent.

Since Mr. Berlusconi seemed to bring a bit of spice to Italian politics and will now be replaced by a relatively bland serving of leadership, one cannot help but feel some remorse at his departure from the generally pallid troupe on the current stage of world politics.

One would think that an apparently bright guy like Silvio would know that a penchant for provocative speech and sartorial splendor are two of the most likely ways to inspire the average voter to take him down a peg. Apparently, being the effective but humble servant of the citizenry is not his cup of espresso.

Since Berlusconi was a forthright ally of our struggles in Iraq, we must now face the prospect that the newly elected Prime Minister will beat a speedy retreat.

So we better get ready to duck. The second plate of spaghetti may fly our way.

Google Founded in 1923 the Google Corporation originally produced radiator hoses and casino chips before entering the lucrative internet search market in 1997. Google is like a thesaurus, simply type in words and it will give you a list of related words from inside your computer and beyond. People who are good at Google (known as Hardcore Googlists) have even discovered that some of these words open up whole new websites, and sometimes even pictures. Google is now so widespread that none other than Leonard Nimoy was once overheard to say “you can find anything on google you really can, may the force be with you”.

MySpaceThe fact that you’ve made it this far down a Beginners Guide probably means you think that making a wonderful informative website such as this one is beyond your meagre skills. We don’t hold that against you, you probably know more about footy or booking holidays in high street travel agents than us, takes all sorts doesn’t it really. Well not any more, MySpace is the great leveller, the democratisation of the internet, now anyone can stick their photo online and surround it with flickering animated hearts floating across a purple background with yellow text talking about how you like to go out, watch telly and listen to music. Or maybe you are part of a subculture and you want your page to feature crunchy guitar music on a black background with pictures of you heavily made up to look like a vampire porn-star. Actually though MySpace is a game, you see other MySpace users can make virtual friends and then their picture appears under the “friends” list on your page. The game is to get your face on as many MySpace pages as possible, the one with the most displayed photos at the end of space and time wins and gets to become a baron of the afterlife. So don’t get left behind, get on MySpace, get flirting and ego massaging and exchanging naked pictures with people who’s age you can’t be sure about or you might regret it for eternity and then some. MySpace is now so widespread that none other than Leonard Nimoy was once overheard to say “I’ve got 28 friends already I really have, may the force be with you”.

After day five of this I could only imagine the maids reaction.

Staring, she said, What are you, some kind of a lizard?

To me, bathrooms are like Greek temples, made of stone and cool marble, reassuring, serene, little worlds of their own, a place of refuge, shut away from the world and its problems.

Such places thus earn the more dignified name of rest room.

For example, if you hate your dead-end job, and you share a communal bathroom down the hall with the employees of other companies in the building, chances are youll spend more time here than you should, away from a threatening, dishonest boss, ringing phones and mountains of paperwork.

I admit Im selfish. When I use the communal john, I want it all to myself—alone.

I also dont want my imitation Greek temple sullied. Therefore, I never perform major bodily functions here (the only time I ever did I was sick).

Theres this guy. Every morning at 8:45 a.m. hes seated on the throne. Now, I fully know this is not a common subject for a column, and I dont want you to think Im strange. But Im truly curious about this guy, perplexed, baffled, whatever.

Since its only 8:45 in the morning, he cant have been at work very long, not much more than an hour. Why cant he hold it longer? Why cant he do his disgusting business at home before he comes to work?

What does he do, process food like a goose?

Now, we all drink coffee, which I admit goes through you pretty fast. So Im not against use of the john for small calls of nature. But Im thinking of posting a sign, which reads, This Facility Used for Minimal Body Functions Only.

Dont foul my Greek temple with your digesting bowels.

More bathroom palacial.

Bathrooms like restaurants should be rated in travel books as to how good they are. For instance, weve all seen gas station bathrooms in truck stops on Labor Day where the unflushed facility hasnt been cleaned and the globs of stuff in there are so putrid you think they may reach out and grab you.

Such places assign us lower on the scale of evolution.

Disgusting!

Then there are bathrooms like the one I saw at Pebble Beach Resort. The heart soars. You could eat off the floor. Little, moist cloth towels hanging from silver trays for cleaning your hands. Embossed toilet paper. Gleaming brass and silver fixtures.

A dream come true.

I was in tears.

Copyright 2004 by SammonSays.com

Evidence to the contrary exists. Bat visitations have occurred regularly in all three of my country homes. Each was a different style house, in a different town with different surroundings. No way am I the only person this is happening to! Ill believe the annual summer bat inundation isnt a part of normal life when butter is fat free and Smuckys Electric gets back to me with that wiring estimate they promised just prior to the Mammoth die off.

One of my sisters in particular gets a kick out of telling people I am a witch attracting bats to my home like anorexics migrating to the Cannes Film Festival. She does it to be ornery a competitive sport in my family. Of course, I could get even by pointing out right here in my very public essay that she is my OLDER sister by a DECADE. However, I am too peaceable and well centered for such adolescent behavior. Besides, you are here to learn another fine country skill the Bat Ejection Technique (BET).

Lesson 1 Why BET

Rural dwellers should all master BETs. Realtors will never admit to the Coloptera inundation plaguing the West. Property values would tumble! Amidst all this denial, a seamy cover-up has formed. Copies of Bat Removal for Dummies are burned at country BBQs and members of the Society of the Dead Elk deliver bat traps to farms under cover of darkness.

As my towns resident City Idiot, I chose to break ranks. If Cidiots are not taught to deal properly with winged rodentia, both will suffer. Bats will be baseballed into walls with brooms. If not, Cidiot homes will overflow with wiggling blankets of screeching critters. Folks will be driven back to the burbs in droves. Quite selfishly – I need newbies to stay in the country. Please dont leave me alone out here! Take notes.

Lesson 2 – History of the BET

For whatever reasons bats enter homes in pairs. My hypothesis is; one holds the dog door open while the other flies through and vise versa. Attempts to document this behavior have been hampered by the presence of innumerable dogs kissing my eyes shut when I stake out the laundry room floor. Nonetheless, like bats to Noahs ark, they arrive by twos.

Throughout history Novice Bat Ejectors dispelled unwanted intruders with the pacifistic Zero Interference Technique (ZIT). For a true ZIT open all windows and doors and cower on the floor waiting for the bats to fly back out. I researched the effectiveness of this method at my first country home. There are three problems with this technique:

Bats never leave as easily as they enter. A person could learn Arabic before the ZIT clears matters up.

Heat leaves houses quite quickly resulting in cold ZITs.

Bats tend to turn up in the middle of the night. Sleep deprivation is a direct side effect of ZITs.

Lesson 3 Modernization

Athletic newbies frequently combine the open window/door approach of a ZIT with a more proactive approach. They jump around with a blanket in an attempt to herd bats outside. This is the Comforter Herding Ejection Technique (CHET). A good CHET take two people. Even then CHETs are hard.

Bats do not know they shouldnt fly around the blanket.

The technique is rendered totally ineffective when your husband, who is suppose to hold the opposite side of the blanket, does a stop, drop and roll every time he spots a bat from thirty yards away.

At night neighbors can see you, but not the bat. So there you are running amuck in your PJs. The doors and windows are wide open as you spiraling over furniture with your flag-like fabric in tow. Meanwhile your underwear-clad man is having what is apparently some version of repeating epileptic seizures. And you, you cold-hearted bitch, you just keep on dancing.

Lesson 4 BET Evolution

Bat invasion number three of year number two was a turning point for me. For some bizarre reason I was washing the morning dishes. We must have been out of coffee. Obviously I was not quick-witted enough to get out of dish duty. Suddenly, I heard the high-pitched chatter of a bat straight over my head.

The space over my cabinets is where all my gigantic jelly-making kettles are poised. Grabbing the step stool, I hovered near and listened. Something was in my stoneware dark, like a cave, the crafty little bugger. Please, dont let it get airborne. I have to go to town this morning, I thought. There was no time for the traditional CHET dance.

My cerebral light bulb clicked on. Hey, Its easier to catch bats when they arent moving. A Nobel Prize for would be mine. Apparently washing dishes has some net value after all. I slid a plate over the stoneware rim and took my captive out side.

Plate removed, an upside-down shake and plop. The bat was on the ground. I watched for a moment making sure my sons devil cat did not turn up. Finally, the bat orientated itself and flew off with chatter. Dam, Im good, I mused. Then I turned and took two steps towards the door. Gasp! Leap! Curse!

Something bad hit my bare foot. Reflexes took over. I went for a field goal. Another bat had been in the jar. Curse! Hebbie Jebies! Will I never learn? Twos, always twos! Scratches, tiny claws on my foot – it was all to early. First dishes, then this.

The traumatized bat landed several feet away. It took a good five minutes before the winged menace recovered enough to fly off. Headed for town, I left a note for my son. Finish the dishes.

Lesson 5 BET Mastery

I learned two things that morning. First, generic dish soap sucks. Second, a motionless bat is the best bat to catch. Chasing them in flight is a fools game. In retrospect Samuel, my Great Pyrenees, had attempted to point this out earlier that spring.

Hearing one of the midnight riots, I ordered all my dogs out. There was no need to look for the cause. I knew by then what the combination of barking and a synchronized chase meant at 1 a.m. Ho hum, more bats in the house. The other dogs complied. Sam however stood there looking sleepy, stubborn, sad and guilty.

Anyone who owns a Pyrenees knows this is their natural state. Just as I demanded, Samuel, go! I spotted the diminutive little wing sticking out from under his massive front paw. Here Mom, a motionless bat is the best bat to catch. He is a genius!

BET Summary

Grab a teacup or the aquarium net and a saucer

Wait for a landing

Cup/net over the Bat

Saucer or magazine carefully slid under

Out the door it goes

Hee Haw! With practice youll be back in bed before the underwear-clad epileptic knows your gone. You can BET on it.

Now, The National Basketball Association has come to realize that the trend to tall has demoralized people of who fall within the usual range of human height and that it has positively devastated short people.

Compared to the slam-dunking ways of the seven footers, these distressed athletes just cant get people interested in watching them hoop it up. As a result, interest in the game as a participation sport has waned, and the association is concerned that, as fewer people work up their excitement about playing it, fewer of them will pay to see it.

In an effort to return basketball to the widely poplar place it held in the minds and hearts of the American public before it became the exclusive province of players whose mothers are suspected of stretching them as infants, the association is considering legitimizing a court just for people of average height, with a special accommodation for shorter people. The basic plan calls for the basket to be lowered by one foot for players from 5 6 to 6 6 and two feet for people who are even shorter but still imagine slam-dunking the ball and hanging from the hoop in a celebratory manner.

When the new rules go into effect, virtually everyone will finally be able to play the game in as dramatic a fashion as todays seven footers.

For now the plan calls for limiting the innovation to amateur players, but the association confides that if fans once again take an interest in watching average-size people play the game, there is the potential to establish an entire new league, made up of speed merchants who are only eye-high to a current pros elbows.

Baby boomers, who exercise more than any generation before them, have been flocking to orthopedic surgeons to tend to their aching tendons and joints.

As news of the growing need for surgical intervention spread, a number of boomers have found the willpower to moderate the intensity of their workout routines.

Personal experience has also confirmed the wisdom of moderation. For example, one inveterate marathoner was shocked by the surprising perception that there were not a lot of senior citizens dashing across the finish line in the New York Marathon.

He began to wonder if at a certain age less strenuous activity might actually be, not only the better part of healthcare, but all thats generally possible. He also began to ask himself if seniors who persisted in intense physical challenges like the marathon were absent at or near the finish line because they literally dropped by the wayside. He dismissed that possibility, because it really brought into question his hope for up-to-the-last-minute youth.

He shared the possible advisability of moderation with a fellow boomer, who happened to be his girlfriend. She agreed to take it into consideration but required proof of the astonishing comeuppance. So, while working out at her gym, she looked around and noticed, to her amazement, that there were not a lot of seniors sweating along with her, especially on the running track and in the weight room.

Most unsettling of all, she noticed that a confounded lot of the runners looked younger than she did.

She dared to break the stunning revelation to a friend, who told her boyfriend. Since hot news has a way of making it through the boomer vine, soon the bewildered generation was abuzz with the invitation to moderation.

Being serious about their health, many have researched the bone-crushing consequences of persistent over-exercise and have discovered that that they really should take it a little easy on themselves, especially since many of them are flirting with age 60. It seems that if they can persuade themselves of the wisdom at least some moderation they will go a long way toward preserving their knees, ankles, and assorted joints, tendons, and muscles. They could also save on visits to the surgeon.

As expected, however, hard-line boomers are adopting an over-exercise-until-you-drop attitude.

As one recalcitrant member of the group said, Hey, its like exercising came with the genes. I cant change my routine anymore than I can change my feet, which wake up every morning, ready to run for miles.

This group is so determined they plan to exercise excessively, even if it means hobbling into old age due to self-inflicted hobbling. As another member of the over-exercise or youre over-the-hill group stated, Look, if Im going to need a knee replacement or two, I might as well be one of the first in my generation to get one.

The Boston Pops Orchestra, which commissioned the piece, left the stage to make way for the performance.

Stagehands then wheeled out a popcorn-making machine and prepared it for the performance by filling it with dry corn, butter, and salt.

When the machine was tuned, the composer entered to conduct his own work. Taking the podium, he raised his baton and the machine was switched on. When the first kernel popped, he gave a firm downbeat and then continued to conduct as the kernels popped away. The piece concluded when all the popcorn had contributed its sound.

In an interview prior to the concert, the composer told us, Its a new piece for percussion. As you know, there have been more additions to the percussion of the orchestra than to any other one. Take, for instance, the brake drum and the ratchet, which is really just a noisemaker. My hope is that the success of my new piece will make the popcorn machine a standard ingredient of the symphony orchestra.

Would you consider it to be a tuned or an untuned percussion instrument, we asked, indulging the wayward simpleton.

Im not sure yet, he told us. While the individual pops do have different pitches, theyre impossible to control.

After savoring the performance, this observer began to long for the once-scandalous composition by John Cage, called 4’33″, in which, as you probably know, a pianist enters, sits down at the piano for four minutes and thirty-three seconds,, and does absolutely nothing. Then he gets up and exits.

Who would have though a concert would come when one reconsidered Cage’s work an instance of generous reticence?

A federal audit on the spending proclivities of people who were issued debit cards by FEMA during the Katrina disaster indicates that some of them were swimming in champagne and good stuff, too.

Among the survival rations that were purchased, we find a $200 bottle of champagne, used as a life-saving device at the hurricane shelter known as Hooters. The establishment, upon hearing of the purchase, has nobly agreed to refund the amount to FEMA.

Other items that emergency cards were used to purchase are the following:

A flotation device of questionable effect, called diamond jewelry.

An escape route from the rising waters to a vacation in the Dominican Republic.

Salvation from a divorce lawyer by paying off a $1,000 legal bill.

Drying out at a strip club, where the recuperative process required $600.

Recuperation with $400 of adult erotica products.

The auditors concluded that such purchases were “not necessary to satisfy legitimate disaster needs.”

Greg Kutz, a GAO forensic auditor, said one “fraudster” way up in West Virginia received a rental assistance check by using the address of a cemetery in New Orleans.

Another application, employing a vacant lot as an address, found favor in FEMA for a payment of $2,358 in rental assistance.

The relief organization also paid $8,000 and then $5,000 more, in a double-dip into rental assistance, to help a long-suffering recipient survive at a resort hotel in Honolulu.

The GAO also found that FEMA lost track of 750 debit cards, worth a total of $1.5 million.

As a result of the debit-card debacle, FEMA itself has been scheduled to receive federal disaster relief.