The Super Bowl, Super Tuesday and a groundhog’s search for order in chaotic times

"Today is groundhog day, and up to the time of going to press the beast has not seen his shadow." – published in The Punxsutawney Spirit in 1886, noting the first celebration of Groundhog Day in the United States.

Earlier this week, Punxsutawney Phil emerged from his hole on Gobbler’s Knob and spotted his shadow, thereby predicting six more weeks of winter. Phil’s prediction was itself predictable—historically, the probability of Phil predicting six more frigid weeks has been about 80%. Considering that the low temperature during the six weeks following Groundhog Day tends to range from 26 to 35 degrees, Phil is generally on safe frozen ground.

Once in a while, though, events occur that even a prognosticating groundhog cannot foresee. Phil predicted six more weeks of winter in 1945 and exactly six weeks later, the temperature reached an improbable 82 degrees.

Since Phil generally makes safe bets, it's reasonable to believe that he probably didn’t wager on the New York Giants winning Super Bowl XLII, Eli Manning being named the game’s Most Valuable Player or John McCain becoming the likely Republican nominee for President of the United States. Not all that long ago, these events seemed as likely as an 82-degree day in March. The few Giants fans anticipating flights to Arizona were the ones wearing blue Krylon paint in lieu of shirts, Eli Manning wasn’t even the most valuable player in his family, and John McCain’s Straight Talk Express was waiting in the switching yard for a crew to board.

There are days when a groundhog should stay in his hole even though thousands of people, multiple television cameras and men dressed like the guy on a Get Out of Jail Free card are waiting for a prediction. Phil’s happened to arrive on the first day on October.

On October 1, 2007, the New York Giants had an uninspiring 2-2 record. On the same day, John McCain came in third in the Rasmussen Reports Weekly Presidential Tracking Poll, trailing Rudy Giuliani by 13 percentage points.

(The symmetry is interesting, and is even more interesting if you recall that the New York Giants last reached the Super Bowl in 2000 but lost both their mojo hand and the game, while John McCain led all other Republican candidates for a time in 2000 before losing his own mojo hand and withdrawing from the Presidential race.)

McCain didn't become a serious contender until the week of January 13, 2008, the same week that the Giants beat the Dallas Cowboys by a score of 21-17 and were one game away from being serious contenders to win the Super Bowl.

The last Rasmussen Reports Weekly Presidential Tracking Poll before Groundhog Day showed John McCain and Mitt Romney deadlocked with 26% and 25% respectively, followed by Mike Huckabee with 17% and Rudy Giuliani with a truly uninspiring 12%. Exactly eleven months earlier, Giuliani had been the front-runner, but this was before he adopted his own variation of the groundhog strategy. Having held a healthy lead over the other GOP candidates, Rudy Giuliani capitalized on his momentum by doing absolutely nothing.

Betting heavily on a win in Florida, Giuliani essentially ignored Iowa, New Hampshire, Nevada, Michigan and South Carolina, a strategy was proved to be enormously successful assuming that the objective was to ensure that someone not named Giuliani would move into the White House after the general election. It is possible to be competitive and finish second, and Giuliani did neither. Giuliani withdrew from the race on January 30 after attracting a meager 15% of Florida’s GOP voters and winning exactly zero delegates. Even Ron Paul, whose campaign staff appears to consist of two interns and a photocopier, has won five delegates to date.

When the clear frontrunner nosedives, groundhogs preferring safe bets get upset. But at least JoinRudy’08 lasted until Super Tuesday, even if pretty much no one actually joined Rudy in ’08. That is more than can be said about the presidential aspirations of Fred Dalton Thompson.

Back on September 5, 2007, Fred Dalton Thompson used his appearance on The Tonight Show to launch his bid for the presidency. Apart from being strangely timed—memo to future presidential candidates: if your strategy is to enter the race late and skip a debate in New Hampshire to appear on The Tonight Show with Jerome Bettis and Travis Tritt, remember Fred Dalton Thompson—Thompson’s announcement revealed some shortcomings of the English language, particularly with respect to verbs. To say that Thompson launched a campaign was definitely wrong, as the word implies characteristics that Thompson’s campaign lacked, such as ignition. There was speculation about a possible Thompson run—again, wrong verb—as early as April, he quit Law and Order in May, and he was expected to make a formal announcement around the Fourth of July. As anyone who has worked on an internal combustion engine knows, if there’s no spark, the Chevy is staying right where it is. Ther was no spark. Between the Fourth of July and the fifth of September, the phrase most often used when discussing Thompson’s candidacy ended with the words “…or get off the pot.”

Language matters. Saying that Thompson was “running” for President was wrong; Thompson wouldn’t have run if he had dropped a lit match on his pajamas and set himself on fire. “Walking in the general direction of the White House” might have been a more appropriate choice of verb and prepositional phrase, as Thompson successfully conveyed the energy and momentum of someone heading somnambulistically toward the refrigerator to see what might be there.

A song called “I Wish I Was A Mole In The Ground,” is running through Punxsutawney Phil’s mind. Bascom Lamar Lunsford, the Minstrel of the Appalachians, recorded it in April 1928, but the song is much older; Lunsford learned it from Fred Moody in 1901 and no one knows where or when Moody learned it.

…I wish I was a mole in the ground…if I was a mole in the ground, I would root that mountain down.

Eli Manning is that mole. Rudy Giuliani, Fred Dalton Thompson and now Mitt Romney are not moles, and they are not going to root that mountain down. Mike Huckabee is that mole. He may not root that mountain down but, to his credit, if he fails, it will not be because he didn’t try.

According to the Chinese calendar, or the paper placemats in the local Chinese buffet, the year of the rat has just begun. There is no year of the mole, but if there was one, 2008 just might be the year of the mole. This idea does not appeal to Punxsutawney Phil.

A groundhog that has made the same weather prediction 97 times in 121 years prefers order to chaos, and as Punxsutawney Phil reaches for the Stoli, he wonders whether any meaning can be found in a series of events that occur through random chance.

As the Krylon-painted guys in the Meadowlands will tell you, sometimes even groundhogs get the blues.

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Taking a moment to appreciate Oscar Peterson

Jazz musician Oscar Peterson, one of the world’s most proficient pianists, was born in Montreal on August 15, 1925. He died last Sunday in Mississauga, a suburb of Toronto. He was 82.

Mr. Peterson recorded prolifically. In one three-year period, from 1950 to 1952, he released 25 albums, and he continued to record frequently throughout his life.

The musicians with whom Mr. Peterson played would fill an encyclopedia of jazz history. The list includes trumpeters Louis Armstrong, Roy Eldridge, Clark Terry and Dizzy Gillespie; guitarists Barney Kessel, Herb Ellis and Joe Pass; and bassist Ray Brown.

His accomplishments include fourteen Grammy awards, including a lifetime achievement award, and sixteen honorary degrees. He was the first living person other than a reigning monarch to be honored with a commemorative stamp by Canada Post.

I am listening to recordings that Mr. Peterson made in 1973, a year when many jazz musicians were exploring new sounds. By 1973, Joe Zawinul, who had recorded with Duke Ellington’s tenor saxophonist Ben Webster ten years earlier, was playing synthesizers in Weather Report; Chick Corea, who had played with Sarah Vaughn, Stan Getz and Blue Mitchell, had formed Return to Forever; and Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis’ former pianist, had recorded Head Hunters. Jazz was changing.

Oscar Peterson did not change. He preferred to play the music of Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart, and Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II.

The album I am listening to features violinist Stephane Grappelli, who was making records in France with Django Reinhardt in 1934, before Mr. Peterson’s tenth birthday. The songs that Mr. Peterson recorded with Grappelli—“Autumn Leaves,” “My Heart Stood Still,” “My One and Only Love”—have been recorded countless times, but Mr. Peterson’s recordings with Mr. Grappelli sound like none of the others. I have not found a record on which Mr. Peterson plays more exuberantly and, more than thirty years later, it is still a pleasure to hear.

Among Mr. Peterson’s other recordings are collections of songs by Cole Porter, George Gershwin and Irving Berlin.

Oscar Peterson chose to play good songs and played them extraordinarily well. That is not a bad way to spend a life, and his was a life worth remembering.

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At last, the ghost that has haunted us since 1964 has moved on

“Wait until 2050.”

These are not the words that anyone in New York wants to hear today, but no one leaving Connie Mack Stadium on a Sunday afternoon in 1964, exactly forty three years ago, said, “wait until 2007.”

The ghost of the 1964 Philadelphia Phillies has haunted this city’s streets, bars and all-night diners for decades. It has been seen riding the Market-Frankford El and buying magazines on Broad Street. It can be heard on call-in radio programs and its words have appeared in the Bulletin, the Daily News and the Inquirer.

Among the current players, only Jamie Moyer was alive forty three years ago when the failing Phils folded like an origami butterfly, yet when the team lost seven of ten games in August, the ghost emerged from the fog in the same way that the USS Eldridge supposedly appeared in the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in 1943.

The 1964 Phillies were in first place for 112 days. On Thursday, September 17, they beat Don Drysdale and held a 6-½ game lead over the St. Louis Cardinals but one day later, their mojo hand went missing and, without it, they lost 12 of their next 15 games. When Jim Bunning, now a United States senator, beat the Cincinnati Reds on the last day of the season, it no longer mattered.

The 1964 Phillies fared somewhat better than the crew of the USS Eldridge—if nothing else, there were no reports of inexplicable madness or mysterious disappearances among the infielders, outfielders, catchers or pitchers—and the team began the 1965 season with more or less the same starting lineup. The manager, Gene Mauch, came back, as did Bunning, Dick Allen, Johnny Callison, Clay Dalrymple, Tony Gonzales, Chris Short, Tony Taylor, Bobby Wine and Rick Wise. Taylor and Wine eventually became coaches; Dallas Green and Pat Coralles became managers. Dallas Green is still the only Phillies manager to win a World Series, and Ruben Amaro’s son is an assistant general manager.

The ghost remained in the shadows, emerging periodically from the fog over the Delaware River near the docks, the warehouses and the shipyard.

Mitch Williams saw it, briefly, peripherally, during the 1993 World Series.

Only thirty eight pitchers have ever saved more games than Mitch Williams and only two have saved more games for the Phillies, but this thought did not comfort Williams when he lost the fourth game of the World Series and the death threats began to arrive. In the sixth game, the ghost watched Williams toss a pumpkin to Joe Carter in the bottom half of the ninth inning. Williams was traded to the Houston Astros less than six weeks after Carter’s three-run, game-winning, series-ending home run caromed off an outfield seat in Toronto’s SkyDome. Squirrels ate the pumpkin and the ghost was satisfied, at least temporarily. A few years later, Williams threw his last pitch as a member of the Atlantic City Surf.

The 2007 Mets were in first place for 140 days and held a seven-game lead on September 12 before the ghost appeared and the Mets lost twelve of their last seventeen games. (This might sound familiar.)

On Sunday morning, the Phillies and Mets had identical records. For the Phillies to reach the playoffs, Jamie Moyer—who probably does not remember a night in 1964 when a full moon rose over the fence at Connie Mack Stadium—needed to win. For the Mets to reach the playoffs, Tom Glavine had to win. Moyer did, Glavine didn’t and the ghost was gleeful.

In December 1988, Mitch Williams was part of an eight-player trade between the Texas Rangers and the Chicago Cubs. Williams went to the Cubs and Jamie Moyer went to the Rangers. If the Phillies reach the World Series this year, Moyer will pitch in at least one game. If Mitch Williams is watching, he will be thinking of a two ball, two strike pitch to Joe Carter. The ghost will not let him forget.

“Wait until 2050.”

These are not the words that anyone in New York wants to hear today.

Some ghosts linger longer than others, but a few facts are undeniable. Connie Mack Stadium is long gone; the Mets are going to hear a ghost whispering in their ears for the foreseeable future; and Cole Hamels, who was not alive forty three years ago, will throw the first pitch of a playoff game in South Philadelphia in a few hours.

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The 22 Most Corrupt Members of Congress

This is a list of the 22 most corrupt members of Congress compiled by Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW).

A few observations. Note that over 80% are Republicans, including five in California (one being a presidential candidate) and three in both New Mexico and Alaska. These three states have half of the the most corrupt members of Congress. Well done, voters!)

The 22 Most Corrupt Members of Congress are:

Sen. Pete V. Domenici (R-NM)
Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-KY)
Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-AK)
Sen. Ted Stevens (R-AK)
Rep. Ken Calvert (R-CA)
Rep. John T. Doolittle (R-CA)
Rep. Tom Feeney (R-FL)
Rep. Doc Hastings (R-WA)
Rep. Duncan Hunter (R-CA)
Rep. William J. Jefferson (D-LA)
Rep. Jerry Lewis (R-CA)
Rep. Gary G. Miller (R-CA)
Rep. Alan B. Mollohan (D-WV)
Rep. Timothy F. Murphy (R-PA)
Rep. John P. Murtha (D-PA)
Rep. Steve Pearce (R-NM)
Rep. Rick Renzi (R-AZ)
Rep. Harold Rogers (R-KY)
Rep. David Scott (D-GA)
Rep. Jerry Weller (R-IL)
Rep. Heather A. Wilson (R-NM)
Rep. Don Young (R-AK)

Dishonorable Mention:

Sen. Larry E. Craig (R-ID)
Sen. David Vitter (R-LA)

(Link: http://www.citizensforethics.org/)

New polls indicate that Thompson has either tied Giuliani or he hasn’t, or maybe he’s ahead

In the week since Sen. Fred Thompson announced his presidential candidacy on the “Tonight Show,” he has caught up with former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani, according to a CNN/Opinion Research Corp. poll. The poll shows Giuliani and Thompson in a statistical tie with Giuliani holding on to a 27% to 26% lead by his fingernails.

Thompson’s quick success has been remarkable, as his campaign has already had its share of problems including fundraising difficulties and staff defections. For a time, it was unclear whether Thompson would enter the race at all. Yet after only a few days, he is well positioned atop a crowded field of Republican candidates.

Or is he?

A USA Today/Gallup poll seems to describe a completely different race, one in which Thompson’s entrance has had little impact. According to the Gallup Poll, Giuliani still holds a 12-point lead, and the percentage of voters favoring Thompson has not changed significantly since his “Tonight Show” appearance.

How can two major polling organizations reach such different conclusions, particularly when both polls were conducted at the same time?

In truth, there may be no discrepancy at all. The Gallop poll has a margin of error of +/-5%. The CNN poll did not specify its margin of error; assume that it is also +/-5%. Suppose CNN underestimated Giuliani’s support and overestimated Thompson’s support. Give another 5% to Giuliani—within the margin of error—and take 5% from Thompson. The results are now almost identical to the Gallup poll’s, and they are consistent with other polls, such as a CBS/New York Times poll that also estimated Thompson’s support at 22%, five points behind Giuliani.

These are not the only recent polls that have reached incongruous conclusions.

A Brown University survey conducted at the same time as the CNN and Gallup polls found Sen. Hillary Clinton leading her closest competitor, Sen. Barack Obama, by 19%. However, the analysis failed to note that Clinton, supported by 35% of Rhode Island voters, is tied with “don’t know/no opinion.” That is a very high percentage of undecided voters. By comparison, only 8% of the people who responded to the CNN and Gallup polls had no opinion. With that many votes up for grabs, Clinton could win Rhode Island’s primary in a landslide, or the race could be competitive. But how is it that so many Rhode Island voters have no opinion?

Finally, a Rasmussen Reports survey released last week concluded that Clinton is the most electable of the Democratic candidates, at least in the eyes of Democratic voters. However, if being electable is defined as being able to beat the other party’s candidate, a somewhat different picture emerges. According to the survey, Edwards wins every general election match-up, usually with a wider margin of victory than Clinton’s. Edwards beats Giuliani by 8%, Thompson by 14%, Sen. John McCain by 4%, and Governor Mitt Romney by 11%. By comparison, Clinton beats Thompson by 4%, McCain by 2%, and Romney by 11%, while losing to Giuliani by 4%. Obama also loses to Giuliani, and his margin of victory over Thompson is only 4%. Therefore, by this standard, Edwards may actually be the most electable Democrat.

Rasmussen Reports just released its daily presidential tracking poll. It shows Giuliani’s support falling to 20% and gives Thompson an 8-point lead. Naturally, the mayor is considered the more electable candidate. Each new day brings a fresh perspective.

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Defending the border, wherever it is (or The Onion Farm Cattle Ranch War)

George W. Bush, October 2006: "It's what the people in this country want," Bush said. "They want to know that we are modernizing the border so we can better secure the border."

Perhaps one small step towards modernizing the border might be to find out where it is.

From AP:

U.S. border fence protrudes into Mexico

The 1.5-mile barrier along the U.S.-Mexico border was designed to keep cars from illegally crossing into the United States. There's just one problem: It was accidentally built on Mexican soil.

Now embarrassed border officials say the mistake could cost the federal government more than $3 million to fix.

The barrier was part of more than 15 miles of border fence built in 2000, stretching from the town of Columbus to an onion farm and cattle ranch.

James Johnson, whose onion farm is in the disputed area, said he thinks his forefathers may have started the confusion in the 19th century by placing a barbed-wire fence south of the border. No one discovered their error, and crews erecting the barrier may have used that fence as a guideline.

"It was a mistake made in the 1800s," Johnson said. "It is very difficult to make a straight line between two points in rugged and mountainous areas that are about two miles apart."

The Mexican government was notified and did what any landowner would do: They sent a note politely insisting that Mexico get its land back.

"Our country will continue insisting for the removal (of the fence) to be done as quickly as possible," the Foreign Relations Department said in a diplomatic missive to Washington.

When the barrier was built in 2000, the project was believed to cost about $500,000 a mile. Estimates to uproot and replace it range from $2.5 million to $3.5 million.

(http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070629/ap_on_re_us/misplaced_barrier)

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The Very Threatening Kitty of Winnipeg

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

We can’t argue with that. Our postman has just withstood the formidable challenge of walking down a tree-lined street on a sunny day with low humidity to bring us mail. Notice that we did not say it was our mail. But we digress, more about that later.

Canada has had mail delivery for over 500 years. The Hapsburg Empire’s first Postmaster General, Franz von Taxis, was given the exclusive right to deliver the royal mail in 1506. (Incidentally, and this is true, mail was only delivered to paying customers. You didn't get your mail if you didn't pay von Taxis.) Dog sleds were used to deliver mail in the Yukon Territory.

After half a millennium, Canada’s mail delivery service has been thwarted by a kitty.

This is a quote from the Winnipeg Free Press: “Canada's postal system has stopped delivering mail to a home in Winnipeg, Manitoba, after a mail carrier was scared away by a "very threatening cat…"

The Very Threatening Cat, whose name is Shadow, is eight years old and has been declawed. Shadow’s owner says that Shadow "likes to eat and sleep and cuddle.”

The mail carrier’s fear is understandable. What could be more frightening than a sleepy cuddly declawed kitty?

More from the Winnipeg Free Press: “A Canada Post spokeswoman said the agency was concerned about the safety of its carriers, although it hoped for an amicable solution."

Canada's postal system hopes to negotiate an agreement with a cat amicably?

A word of advice for Canada’s postal system: negotiate with the cat in good faith, but get the agreement in writing. If the settlement includes a catnip mouse, your mail carrier may escape relatively unharmed. That is as amicable as it is going to get. If you wait too long, the cuddly declawed kitty may be asleep, and where does that leave the mail carrier?

The mail we received today is addressed to a lady who lives in a bungalow two blocks away. We have never met her but because we have her mail, we now know that she reads The New Yorker and prefers John and Kira’s chocolates. We will deliver her mail this evening, after we feed the cat, and we expect that we will like her. John and Kira’s are really good chocolates.

Almost forgot to mention that the mayor of Winnipeg, home of the Very Threatening Kitty, is Sam Katz.

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For heaven’s sake, buy a new pair of pants, Mr. President

A friend sent us a photograph taken during the Queen’s recent visit to the United States. In the photograph, standing at the top of a staircase are, from left to right, Prince Philip, Laura Bush, Queen Elizabeth II, and George W. Bush. The Bushes are smiling.

Prince Philip is not. He clearly wants to be somewhere else and the expression on his face says that it doesn’t really matter where that somewhere else might be. He would prefer to be reading a biography of Winston Churchill, watching CSI: Miami, or having toes amputated. It wouldn’t matter to him. Laura Bush is wearing an aqua-colored dress that makes her look like a mermaid with hips as wide as a Greyhound bus.

The Queen is not smiling in this photograph. She is looking at W’s trousers. They don’t fit. Unless W’s legs have become two inches shorter, they are not his trousers. When we post the photo, look at his left leg. Either he hasn’t had them hemmed or he has borrowed pants from someone considerably taller.

This was the dinner menu:

Spring Pea Soup with Fernleaf Lavender
Chive Pizzelle with American Caviar

Newton Chardonnay “Unfiltered” 2004

Dover Sole Almondine
Roasted Artichokes, Pequillo Peppers and Olives

Saddle of Spring Lamb
Chanterelle Sauce
Fricassee of Baby Vegetables

Peter Michael “Les Pavots” 2003

Arugula, Savannah Mustard
and Mint Romaine

Champagne Dressing and Trio of Farmhouse Cheeses

“Rose Blossoms”

Schramsberg Brut Rosé 2004,

Mr. President, when you are having dinner with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, is it too much to ask that your trousers fit? Go upstairs and change your pants, and take your mermaid with you.

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Monster Bunnies

We couldn’t help noticing these headlines:

MSNBC drops Imus simulcast
No More Monster Bunnies for North Korea

North Korea’s possession of German-bred monster bunnies is the more interesting story, if for no reason other than that it explains North Korea's dependence on China: "China currently holds the biggest...carrot" (Yale Online). Unfortunately, there is speculation, but no proof, that North Korean officials may have eaten them. The giant monster bunnies, that is, not the carrot. (We are not making this up: “A German rabbit breeder sold 12 rabbits to North Korea to breed giant bunnies said he won't be exporting any more to the reclusive communist country because he suspects they have been eaten.” (http://www.spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/0,1518,475218,00.html)

But while we love finding news involving German monster bunnies, we also love pointing out bad writing and people who have plainly gone walnuts.

Perusing one of Ann Coulter's blogs is like visiting Francisco Scaramanga’s island in the James Bond film The Man with the Golden Gun, a trap where perceptions are distorted by mirrors and trickery, it is not always clear what is real and what is not, and a midget cackles at you.

We know from personal experience that certain drug interactions will convince you that large black birds are flying straight into the windows and that the pattern on the wallpaper is moving and occasionally forming words. Ann Coulter's bookshelf must not contain a copy of the Physician's Desk Reference because there is no other way to explain how someone with the cognitive capacity to put shoes on the correct feet could equate Don Imus insulting a women's basketball team with Winston Churchill defending England from the Germans. (No, not the German monster bunnies.) This is from a post titled Ho Ho Ho, Merry Imus, in which Ann Coulter argues against courteousness.

“Say, does anyone remember if Winston Churchill was "nice" in his public pronouncements about Hitler?”

Was Reagan "nice" to the Soviets? They certainly didn't think so. The Soviets constantly denounced Reagan as "rude," and our dear friends at the BBC upbraided Reagan for his "rude attacks" on Fidel Castro, Nicaragua and the Soviet Union…'"

“Oh dear! Reagan wasn't "nice." No wonder he never accomplished anything.

(http://www.anncoulter.com/cgi-local/welcome.cgi)

Discourtesy saves the world! Again! We are so ready for the monster bunnies.

But even a monster bunny would fail to root out the metaphorical carrot in this garden. Insulting a women’s basketball team is somehow analogous to the British fighting the Germans in the Second World War? Impoliteness defeated the Nazis? Civility extended the Cold War?

(Pardon us for a moment; if our heads explode, perfectly good hats will be ruined, and it is hard to find good hats these days.)

We have no idea what carrot Ann Coulter is gnawing on. If we were feeling really bitchy, we would point out that she has just compared the Rutgers women’s basketball team to the Third Reich.

You could explore Ann Coulter’s ocean of murky thinking in a bathysphere without sinking to depths low enough to find anything meaningful. Don’t try it.

At that depth, there’s no light.

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Listening to the Owls

The people of Crawford, Texas, may know The Decider better than the rest of us, Ti-jean. "Sometimes, you just have to be by yourself," said Bill Johnson, owner of the Yellow Rose souvenir shop at the one-light crossroads in Crawford. "You've got to get out of the rat race, get some peace and quiet. He can just go and sit by the lake and hear the owls."

That explains a lot. The Western screech owl is a vicious, merciless killer without an ounce of pity in its heartless body. A Western screech owl carries it's prey up to its perch and rips it apart. They protect their nests, and they occasionally attack people for no apparent reason. If this sounds like another resident of Crawford, Texas, Ti-jean, it is not a coincidence.

Ti-jean, there are places in this world where strange and inexplicable things happen. To give you an example, migratory birds can fly hundreds of miles without consulting a map or asking other birds for directions. However, there is a village in India called Jatinga where, on dark foggy nights near the end of the monsoon season, migratory birds—tiger bittern, black bittern, little egret, pond heron, Indian pitta and kingfishers—fly straight into the ground and the villagers tear them apart for their meat. For reasons that no ornithologist has been able to explain, this phenomenon occurs only within a very limited area and only affects birds that should be familiar with the topography.

Something similarly strange and inexplicable is occurring in the Dali-esque landscape of the Justice Department, where gyroscopes do not work, the magnetic field is so distorted that compasses are useless, and the thick fog makes it impossible to navigate by the stars.

After the 2006 monsoon season, Harriet “The Hawk” Miers flew over the Justice Department scavenging for the weak and sickly but did not swoop, leaving the prey alive, momentarily, for the owls who hunt for small terrified creatures in complete darkness. The first eight field mice were ensnared and consumed by Owlberto Gonzales and his department of predatory birds who tend to be most active on Friday nights, when no one is looking.

Then, at the end of the monsoon season, knowing that larger owls prey on other owls, or maybe just succumbing to gravity, the smaller owls started to hit the ground.

Kyle Sampson, Owlberto’s Chief of Staff, plummeted on March 12; Michael A. Battle, Director of the Executive Office for U.S. Attorneys, fell to earth on March 16; Monica Goodling, the Justice Department's liaison to the White House, indicated that she would not hoot and jumped from her perch on April 6.

Most recently, three owls in Minnesota flew into the ground rather than spend sleepless nights listening to the new owl’s screeches.

Owls have natural predators, but newts are generally not among them, so it was a bit of a surprise to hear Newt call for the Owl to meet his taxidermist: "I cannot imagine how he is going to be effective for the rest of this administration…”

Salamanders are among the defenseless creatures that the Western screech owl preys upon. How fitting that a Newt takes on the Owl.

Ti-jean, it is a dark and foggy night. Sitting here by the lake, you can hear the owls screech, and you can hear the impact when they collide with the ground.

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