Brian On _______

This is my generation's Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer, How the Grinch Stole Christmas and Merry Christmas Charlie Brown! all rolled into one:

* supposedly

Webster's Dictionary defines "lame" as:

• Crippled or physically disabled, esp. in the foot or leg so as to limp or walk with difficulty
• Impaired or disabled through defect or injury: as in, a lame arm.
• Weak; inadequate; unsatisfactory; clumsy: as in, "Webster's Dictionary defines _____ as _____" is a lame rhetorical device.

Can't we all put aside our difference and agree that no one beyond middle school is allowed to begin a thought with such a lame, LAME phrase?

They say you learn something new everyday. Today's lesson, boys and girls, is that just because you've only received one ticket for "excessive vision reduction materials" in the past three years, it doesn't mean you can safely assume it'll be another three years before some bored highway patrolman pounces.

When this happened back in June, I decided that I would just keep my 85 percent tint (the legal limit is 65) and take my chances. I'd been driving in Missouri for more than three years, had had a cop inspect my vehicle after that gay hit-and-run garbage truck AND driven alongside literally dozens of highway patrol cruisers each day (the MOHP HQ is on my way to work) AND had two safety inspections with no problems. One stop in three years? I'll pay the $83 and keep my awesome windows.

As it turns out, I only had three months, not three more years before it caught up with me. I acknowledged that I'd been stopped for this before (better to admit it than to have him punch it up on the computer) and he asked me why I hadn't removed it. "Cashflow" I said, which is mostly true. I resent having my cash paid to remove something so petty. He said I could pick it off with my fingernail so there was no excuse. For the record, I picked at the entire time he was writing me the ticket and couldn't remove a single speck. I guess I'll have to go at it with a razor blade.

So yeah. I'm frustrated with myself (it's embarrassing to admit you ignored the law because you thought you'd get away with it), mad that I have to drop $83 and even more annoyed that I'm going to have to figure out a way to lose my tint.

I know I broke the law (twice) and I certainly didn't argue with the offericer. I'll dutifully sign the line, plead guilty and pony up the $83. But come on. TWICE now you've crossed the median and chased me down for tint? I'd understand if I had been speeding (even a little bit) and you tacked it on, but come on.

If you're reading, President-elect Obama, I suggest that your new economic stimulous package include a moratorium on tint tickets. YES WE CAN! YES WE CAN!

Guess who totally scooped Slate.com... by more than three weeks, no less! That's right, David Plotz, that's right. You and your staff may be exponentially better writers than I can ever hope to be, but I've been all over this story since mid-October. (Never mind the fact that it was the Omaha World Herald that tipped me off and the story itself is more than a year old. The important thing is that I beat you.)

Wow, first Rolling Stone's Peter Travers plagiarizes one of my reviews, and now the web's best magazine is looking to me for content. There just might be something to this blogging thing.

Late afternoon on Sunday found me sitting in my garage trimming my hair. This isn't an entirely out of the ordinary occurrence, and I'm actually pretty good at keeping things even. Of course, that plastic depth guard helps. The thing the evil hair clipper manufacturer fat cats fail to mention is that you should ALWAYS double-, no, triple-check that said guard is on the clippers.

Should you fail to triple-check, there's a surprisingly high probability that your noggin will end up with a bald strip the width of the clipper blade.

The sad thing is that this the second time this has happened to me. The first time I gave myself a reverse mohawk, carving a valley right down the middle of my head. Luckily, the hair on the tippy top of my head is thin anyway, so once I'd trimmed the rest to 1/8 inch, it didn't look that bad. The really sad thing is that since I don't have to cut my hair that often, I've only done it 10 or so times. That means I have a 20 percent failure rate.

This time, I accidentally shaved (and believe me, "shaved" is the right word) my right temple. I didn't think I could rescue the situation by myself (plus I'd lost my 1/8 inch guard) so I called up Chris to see if he and Katie would be willing to help me decide on a new do. I was pretty sure he'd be willing, since one of his all-time favorite stories is when I showed up at his door with my new un-mohawk and a sheepish grin. (When I called to see if I could come over, all I had to say was "so I was cutting my hair and..." and he started laughing.)

Anyway, they helped and despite looking like I have 3-day stubble growth all over my head, it actually looks pretty good and - most important - intentional. Chris and Katie tried to persuade me to go ahead and "bic it," but I'm not ready to make that commitment yet. I have this sneaking suspicion I have a funny-shaped head with odd lumps here and there.

Even though I'm not ready make the bald plunge, I did get a chance to think about the potential advantages of being among the follicle-challenged. Heck, I'm 95 percent there already. And that remaining 5 percent is only a matter of time.

• I'm going to save a fortune on shampoo. You can't overestimate the value of frugality in today's economy.
• Washing my hair will take a cool 13 seconds. Styling it will take zero seconds.
  
• If I go ahead and bic it, I can finally donate to Locks of Love.
• Just think how much more aerodynamic I'm going to be! I'm going to be setting land speed records left and right.
  
• I look good in hats.
• I can further cement my new nickname: "The Bald Eagle."
  
• The line between me and Vin Diesel is further blurred.
  

Regardless of who we elect today, the real winner is:

a) The People
b) The American Dream
c) Democracy
d) None of the above

The answer is d) None of the above. Who is the real winner? The winner is yours truly.

I have successfully exorcised the McDonald's-Monopoly Demon!

Where, O oily hash brown, is thy sting? Where, O deceptive chance at a Dodge Viper, is thy victory? Yes, you were strong, Ronald McDonald! Yes, you were mighty, Uncle Pennybags! But I was stronger! I was mightier! Gaze in crumpling, awestruck defeat as I beat my chest in a primal rage and let out a hair-raising roar of defiant victory. I am Free Will. I OWN YOU, Monopoly at McDonald's! I OWN YOU! May the glorious victory chant echo through the chambers of eternity: I are the Champions, my friends / I kept on fighting, till the end! / No time for losers, / 'cause I are the champions... of the world!

Don't expect the liberal media to report this little news item. They're too obsessed with this so-called "historic" election. Journalism is dead. Sigh.