Nshima & Curry

Michael Jackson was one of a kind

Where were you when you heard the news, when you realized that the world had lost its greatest entertainer? I was in my living room, watching TV, shaking my head and wondering what life would be like without George Carlin.

That was a year ago. I just couldn’t believe the brilliant comedian was gone.

I had the same feeling when I heard that Michael Jackson had died, a feeling that the world had lost a talent it would never see again, at least not for another millennium, when someone develops a time machine.

Jackson was to my generation what Neil Armstrong was to the previous one. Armstrong was the first man to walk on the moon, but until Jackson came along, many of us had never seen the moonwalk.

He was no astronaut, of course, but nobody could rocket up the music charts like him. During his peak, he had more No. 1 singles than anyone else, more hits than the entire lineup of the Chicago Cubs.

He became known as the “King of Pop,” easily outshining all contenders for the title, even that Indian man who had set a world record for bursting balloons.

He gave us an album called "Thriller" –- and what a thrill it was, the best investment a music fan could make, aside from taking Madonna on a date.

His mega-hit “Beat it” soared to No. 1 on several charts around the world, so popular that Ayatollah Khomeini, concerned about the influence of American popular culture, instructed the youths of Iran to stop “beating it.”

Nothing like a plum ambassadorship

Barack Obama promised to bring change to Washington, but did you see whom he selected as ambassador to Belize? His old college buddy Vinai Thummalapally!

The folks in Belize had better give me a call. For only $9.99, I'll help them learn how to say "Ambassador Thummalapally."

Thummalapally, in case you're wondering, has no experience as a diplomat, but he did pass Obama's foreign service exam, which consisted of a single question: "How much money did you raise for me, bro?"

The correct answer for Thummalapally was "more than 100 grand -- and I also told the media that you're the best thing to happen to America since Slim-Fast."

The Colorado business executive also donated $4,500 of his own money for his pal’s presidential campaign, while his wife, Barbara, gave $2,800. There were no strings attached, of course, just a note from Barbara that said: "Dear Barack, Vinai and I believe in you so much, we're giving you all the money we had saved for our vacation in sunny Belize. I told Vinai that Belize can wait. Poor guy, he really had his heart set on going. He even read the Lonely Planet Travel Guide and bought a really nice beach umbrella."

Well, perhaps Barbara didn't send a note, but she and Vinai were probably aware that raising money for Obama's campaign could result in an ambassadorship.

Vinai: "We've raised only $50,000. We need to raise more. I don’t want to be sent to Cote d’Ivoire."

Barbara: "Yeah, me neither. That would be as bad as going to Ivory Coast.”

Vinai: "If we raise a little more, we could go to Belize, Jamaica or even Namibia."

Barbara: "What's so great about Namibia?"

Vinai: "I’m not sure, but that’s where Angelina Jolie goes to give birth. Did you know that she’s the UN Refugee Agency’s Goodwill Ambassador?”

Barbara: “She must not have raised much money for the agency. I’d rather be a Macy’s or Saks Fifth Avenue Ambassador.”

Flying much safer than driving

Whenever there's a major plane crash, people get anxious about flying. They postpone their vacations  or try to drive to faraway destinations, overwhelming Yahoo and Google with search terms such as "driving distance from West Virginia to Hawaii."

But here's what everyone needs to know: aviation accidents are extremely rare, even if we include all those accidents we never hear about, such as when the drunk guy pulls a muscle getting off the sink in the washroom.

In fact, flying is MUCH safer than driving. In 2007, for example, air crashes in America killed only 44 people, while car accidents killed about 44,000. It should be obvious to you that if you are traveling by plane, you are one thousand times more likely to arrive at your destination, generally speaking, than your luggage is.

So why are we more likely to panic on a plane than in a car? Here are a few reasons:

1. Someone else is in control -- and we usually haven't met him or her. For all we know, Coco the Chimp might be sitting in the cockpit. Serves us right for flying Air Coco.

2. We're afraid of heights. It doesn't help that the pilot insists on telling us how high we are: "We are now cruising at an altitude of 35,000 feet. If you look down to the left, you will see the Rocky Mountains. And on the right, you will see Yao Ming."

3. We are always being reminded what to do in an emergency. "In case of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a floatation device, the plastic cups can be used as goggles and the in-flight magazine can be used to beat off sharks."

Imagine how my kids would feel if I made an announcement before every car trip: “Kids, in case I accidentally steer our car into a lake, please calmly remove your seat belts, move quickly to the front of the car and stop your mother from hitting me on the head.”

Tripping out with the kids

If you're planning to drive across the country with children aged 10 or younger, let me give you some advice: go and see a psychiatrist immediately. You need help! With a little therapy or medication, you may be able to control this urge to inflict pain on yourself.

I wish I had seen a psychiatrist before my recent 14-hour drive to Edmonton with my three kids, Lekha, Divya, and Rahul, also known as the PASSENGERS FROM HELL.

The trip was partly for business -- my wife needed to make a presentation at a conference -- and partly for pleasure -- the kids were looking forward to having lots of fun, which is why it wasn’t long after she sat in the car that Divya asked the question, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet,” Lekha said. “Mommy’s still checking if she turned the stove off.”

Divya paused, waited a little while and asked the question again.

“We’re getting closer,” Lekha said. “I just saw the sign at the end of our street.”

In her defense, I should mention that Divya is only 5 and didn’t really have a concept of where we were going, why we were driving such a long distance to visit some guy named Ed Minton.

Many parents have DVD players in their vehicles, so the kids can watch movies during a long trip, movies that, with any luck, will put them to sleep. We decided not to take a DVD player along, partly because we wanted our kids to do some creative stuff on the trip and partly because, like most good parents, we were suffering from brain damage.

So many ways to prove your manhood

There comes a time in every man’s life when he needs to prove his manhood, he needs to show that he’s a “real man” –- or about to become one. For the typical male, this isn’t a one-time act, but something he feels compelled to do every few years, just to reassure himself, just to calm one of his greatest fears –- that his manhood is shrinking.

The first act of proving his manhood usually happens early in life, when he’s still a teen-ager. He looks in the mirror, discovers that he has grown a mustache and, with great pride and excitement, shaves it off and applies aftershave. He purchased the aftershave five years earlier in anticipation of this historic moment. He forgot to buy a razor, but thankfully he has no trouble finding his sister’s.

If he lives in certain parts of the world, this first act may be starkly different. It may involve circumcision, a word that’s derived from Latin and literally means “Ouch! My manhood!” (Trust me, there’s no more painful way of proving your manhood than losing part of it.)

It may involve fighting and defeating a large, ferocious animal –- a lion or bear or professional wrestler. In some African tribes, you aren’t a real man until you’ve gone to the forest and come home with a lion, preferably a dead one. Bringing home a lion is a daunting task, needless to say, especially if you can’t afford the prices set by the local entrepreneur, the one who has a chain of Rent-a-Lion stores.

Newspapers are a treat, not a tweet

It's been a tough year for the newspaper industry in America. So tough that one major newspaper has printed its own obituary (rest in peace, Rocky Mountain News), another has ended its print edition (see you online, Seattle Post-Intelligencer) and a third is writing its last will and testament (you’re like family to me, San Francisco Chronicle).

Many other newspapers are taking drastic steps to prevent their demise, such as cutting their staff, publishing fewer times per week, and combining the "Sports" and "News" sections into a single section called "Spews."

Yes, newspapers in America are in deep trouble. They’ve given President Obama so much love, but what does he do? He kisses the auto industry’s rear bumper.

I don't know about you, but I really hope my local newspaper keeps arriving at my doorstep. My wife doesn't like it when I take the computer into the bathroom. I don’t know why I bothered getting a computer desk with wheels.

Actually, I usually use a laptop, which is small and light, but still not bathroom-approved. Even if I used a Blackberry, it probably wouldn’t give me the same satisfaction as turning actual pages –- or sticking an editorial onto the toilet roll.

There’s something special about a newspaper that laptops or Blackberries or iPhones will never replace. When Obama won the presidency, millions of Americans saved the next day’s newspaper, realizing that it was a copy of history that their grandchildren or great-grandchildren would one day be able to auction off.

Let the women do the driving

My wife, Malathi, has a driver's license and thank goodness for that, because if she didn't have one, she wouldn't be able to buy any beer.

You have to be 18 to shop at the liquor store. Malathi is much older than that, but it's still conceivable that a sales clerk might ask her for ID, considering all the liquor fumes in the store. And when you're standing in line with a bunch of hip youngsters, who are listening to their iPods or texting their friends on their iPhones, the last thing you want to be doing is whipping out your passport.

Passports are the uncoolest form of ID. You might as well bring your mother to the store to say, "This is my daughter. She is older than 18. Would you like to see some of her baby pictures?"

Yes, the driver's license comes in handy, though, in Malathi's case, it ought to be called a drinker's license. Not that Malathi drinks a lot. She has a little wine or beer occasionally. A couple of times a month, which means that she does a lot more drinking than driving. Unless you count the type of driving that involves me and a wall.

When she goes to work, she takes the bus. It’s convenient, economical and less stressful. She gets to do some reading on the bus — and more than just all the tattoos.

When we go out as a family, guess who does the driving? Yes, Mr. Imbecile. That’s me. Malathi sits next to me and tells me what I did wrong: “Weren’t you supposed to turn left over there?” “Weren’t you supposed to slow down for the yellow light?” “Weren’t you supposed to stay out of the ditch?”

Give yourself an edge in the job market

These are tough economic times in America and elsewhere. If you're like me, you're saving money any way you can. I've cancelled my cable, invested in a good pair of binoculars and started watching my neighbor’s TV. Desperate times call for desperate  measures.

In this harsh economic climate, it's important to have a job, any job. But finding a job isn't easy, especially since so many companies are giving their employees –- even the male ones –- pink slips. Competition for jobs is so intense that chess champ Vishwanathan Anand has been flooded with applications, all because someone wrote that he has “good openings.”

With all the competition, it's vital for job seekers to give themselves an edge. That's why I've decided to offer a few tips to help people stand out from the crowd. Some of these tips may seem obvious, but, trust me, they're often overlooked.

Tip #1: Learn to speak English. When the economy was strong, some folks were able to find decent jobs in America by knowing just three words of English: "Me want job." Others, realizing the importance of grammar, tried a little harder: "Me wants job."

These days, three words of English aren't enough to secure a job in any
part of America outside Miami. Job seekers must learn at least six words, particularly these six: "Would you like fries with that?"

They may seem like easy words, but some immigrants really struggle with them. A few have been fired from fast-food restaurants for repeatedly asking customers, "Would you like flies with that?"

The restaurants, as you can imagine, received many customer complaints, such as the one from a West Virginia man who threw his meal at the manager, shouting: “I thought I was getting flies with my burger, not fries."

Tip #2: Go easy on the tattoos and body piercing. Two or three are OK, but when your entire body is green, the only people you’re likely to impress are environmentalists. Well, perhaps a few others too, but they probably won’t offer you a job, unless one of them is a farmer and, with planting season coming around, needs another scarecrow.

(Yes, I know: some tattoos are works of art. In fact, Leonardo Da Vinci first tattooed the Mona Lisa on a friend's backside. Unfortunately nipple rings weren’t common in those days, so he couldn’t hang his friend in a gallery.)

The reality of getting a job

Every summer, teams in the National Football League (NFL) bring 80 players to training camp. For about six weeks they compete for 53 spots on the final roster, as well as eight spots on the practice squad and three spots on the water boy crew.

That's 64 coveted jobs up for grabs, so you can imagine how competitive it is. Receivers try to impress coaches by catching every ball that's thrown to them, defensive backs try to disrupt passes and deliver big hits, and running backs try to dart through gaps between autograph-seeking fans.

This year the Dallas Cowboys are trying something different. They're giving one of the training camp spots to someone from a reality show. No, not Simon Cowell, though "Cowell the Cowboy" has a nice ring to it and fans like me would pay big bucks to see if the American Idol judge can make it through training camp with any of his teeth left.

The training camp spot will go to the winner of a new reality show on Spike TV. The show will be hosted by former Cowboys player Michael Irvin, who's one of the NFL's greatest possession receivers -- and I'm not just talking about drug possession.

Six receivers and six defensive backs will compete on the show, which does not have a name yet, though it's fairly obvious what it should be called: "Who wants to be killed at training camp?"

Memo to staff: Very important appointment

To: All staff

From: Barack Obama

Subject: Very important appointment

I have made a number of appointments over the last few weeks, but I still have several more to make, including one that's of utmost importance. I want to make sure we get it right. I want to be able to tell the American public that we spent adequate time evaluating the candidates, checking and double-checking their background, using every tool at our disposal to decide who is the most qualified to serve, for the next four years, as the White House dog. 

Americans will be very disappointed if I announce in a few weeks that the dog we selected just didn't pan out, that it wasn't right for the White House, that we had to show it the door. My opponents would pounce on this news, accusing me of failing to keep my campaign promise to minimize job losses. And there would undoubtedly be protests outside the White House, not just from the American Canine Liberties Association (ACLU), but also the Federation of Independent Dog Organizations (FIDO).

It would be a huge disappointment, of course, to my daughters, Malia and Sasha. As you know, they've been asking for a dog for several years and, over the last year or so, I've sort of made it my pet project. I believe that the more methodical we are, the better our chances of selecting the ideal dog, one that will not only bring honor to our family and the White House, but will also represent us well at various dog functions. In a few months, Italy will host the G8 Dog Summit and I don't want to send just any old mutt there.

Flight of the Obama relatives

Kenya Airways Flight KQ102 had just left Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, bound for London. The chief flight attendant, John Mburu, glanced at the manifest and was pleased to see that almost every passenger on the flight was named Obama. There was a George Obama, a Yusuf Obama, a Miriam Obama, even a Sanjay Obama.

They must all be going to the inauguration, Mburu thought. He had heard that Barack Obama had 1,432 relatives in Kenya, twice as many as he did before the election.

It made him feel proud, like he was part of history, serving the new president's relatives on the first leg of their journey. Perhaps, when things were quieter in the cabin, he would ask one of the Obamas if they would bring back a souvenir for him, such as an official 2009 Presidential Inauguration bottle of wine.

He couldn't believe how loud it was in the cabin. It was almost midnight, but there was so much chatter and merriment, he could barely hear the engine of the Boeing 777. He decided to walk slowly down the aisle, pretending to check the overhead compartments, hoping to catch snippets of conversation.

“I don’t understand him at all,” a middle-aged man was saying to another in the first row. “He hasn’t offered us any jobs. What kind of African politician is he?”

“That’s the problem,” the second man said. “He isn’t an African politician. He is an African-American politician.”

“But he is African first, then American. Otherwise he would be American-African.”

“You are right, brother. We need to remind him of that. What position would you like?”

“Oh, that’s easy. United States Ambassador to Kenya. What about you?”

“I want to be Special Envoy to the Oprah Winfrey Show.” They both laughed.

An exclusive interview with the shoe thrower

His name is Muntazer al-Zaidi and he’s the toast of the Middle East and many other parts of the world. Never before has anyone achieved so much acclaim for throwing a pair of shoes. He threw them at President Bush, of course, an act that he's somewhat embarrassed about, as I learned during an exclusive telephone interview.

Me: "Muntazer, thank you for taking my call."

Muntazer: "I did not know I could take calls. How much are you paying the prison warden?"

Me: "I'm giving him a pair of shoes."

Muntazer: "You can send them to me. I will deliver them for you."

Me: "No, thanks. I saw your last delivery."

Muntazer: "You are right, my friend. It was a bad delivery. A very bad delivery. I'm embarrassed about it."

Me: "People say you are a hero. Do you consider yourself a hero?”

Muntazer: "No, I am not a hero. I missed the target. It was a bad delivery. I should have thrown harder and lower. I did not practice enough."

Me: "You mean you practiced for this?"

Muntazer: "Of course I practiced. I spent many hours at the shoeing range."

Me: "Shoeing range? You mean there's a special place where you can practice throwing shoes?"

Muntazer: "Yes, we have many shoeing ranges here. They provide us with hundreds of shoes, as well as cardboard cutouts of President Bush."

Column: What would you do with a 97-year-old fruitcake?

Around this time of year, Christmas cake or fruitcake can be found in almost every grocery store in North America -- and in many other parts of the world. Some people even go to the trouble of making it at home. "Fruitcake is like no other treat," a 78-year-old Chicago woman said. "I like to serve it to my guests at Christmas. And when they've left, I put it back in the box for next year."

Though I've often made jokes about it, I do buy fruitcake occasionally, especially when I'm trying to get my kids to eat something. "You'd better eat your vegetables," I say, "or I'll make you eat some fruitcake." It works like a charm.

The fruitcake does eventually get eaten. When you're hungry, you can't be too picky. At least that's what I say to the neighbor's dog.

I'm kidding, of course. I don't have to say anything to the dog. Like most dogs, he'll eat just about anything that looks remotely like food, which may explain why there’s a big hole in the fence. It comes in handy, of course. I throw the fruitcake through it. And he throws it back. Then he realizes it might be food, jumps through the hole and takes a bite. Then he pauses, looking at me suspiciously with an expression that says, “Are you sure this is food? It’s soft and chewy, but not quite as tasty as the fence.”

Truth be told, my wife and I do eat some fruitcake ourselves. We like to have it with our tea, whenever we want the kids to give us some time to ourselves. What's great about fruitcake is that it has a long shelf life. The fruitcake we've bought this year will be good until the year 2098. My great-grandchildren would be able to feed it to their dogs.

Column: Let's hope it wasn't India's 9/11

The terrorist attacks on Mumbai have been called "India's 9/11" by a number of media outlets. That scares me. If this was India's 9/11, does that mean that sometime in the future, America is going to have a 11/26? I hope not. I’ve looked at the statistics and, trust me, Americans are quite good at shooting each other. They don't need any help from foreigners.

What scares me even more is the war that might result from India’s 9/11. I mean, haven't the people of Iraq suffered enough? They really don't need another country invading them. It would be a shame if American troops left Iraq in 2009 and Indian troops replaced them in 2010. That might seem like a positive outcome for President Obama, but he’d have trouble convincing Americans that he wasn’t just taking outsourcing to a whole new level.

You might think it's ridiculous to believe that India would invade Iraq. But let’s face facts: Iraq was just as responsible for India's 9/11 as it was for America’s. So don’t be surprised if, sometime in 2011, Indian soldiers do what Americans did several years earlier: pull Saddam Hussein out of a hole and put him on trial. (Chances are, he’ll be a lot more cooperative this time.)

Column: The principle of making Obama jokes

A school principal in La Vergne, Tennessee, recently wrote a humor column that poked fun at President-elect Obama and found himself in so much hot water, he decided that it would be wise, as well as efficient, to skip his weekly bath.

Stephen Lewis, principal of Rock Springs Elementary, has been writing a weekly humor column for The Murfreesboro Post for about two years. In fact, it would be accurate to say that he's the Post's principal humor columnist.

But he was virtually unknown outside his county until he wrote his post-election column, in which he did something rather original: created a parody of "The Jeffersons" theme song. In his version, Obama was "movin’ on up ... to a deee-luxe pimp pad," "jetting with P. Diddy" and "chewin’ on the government fat." Obama's supporters and others found it extremely offensive, naturally, that Lewis would even suggest that Obama hangs out with P. Diddy. (Never mind that 10-year-old Malia Obama wears a T-shirt that says "Daddy loves Diddy.")

P. Diddy, for those of you who don't know, is the stage name of a popular rap artist and should not be confused with Diddy P., the question I ask whenever I check my little son's diaper.

Obama TV: All Obama, all the time

CHICAGO -- Talk show host Oprah Winfrey has announced a new venture for her company, Harpo Studios: Obama TV (OTV).

"Over the last year or so, I've noticed that America just cannot get enough of Barack Obama and his family, so I thought to myself, 'Why not have a 24-hour network that covers everything Obama?'" Winfrey said, speaking at a press conference in Chicago. "It's a historic time in America and many people have told me that they don't want to miss a single moment of it, except of course when the Oprah Winfrey Show is on."

Financial guru Mani Pundit predicted that OTV would turn Winfrey from a mere billionaire into a zillionaire. "It's a brilliant idea," Pundit said. "CNN's ratings shoot up every time they show anything about Obama. Why else would they have 10 analysts debating whether Obama uses Crest or Colgate?"

Harpo released a tentative daytime schedule for OTV, which will promote itself with the slogan "No drama, just Obama."

6 to 7 a.m. -- Fitness with Obama: Get in shape with a series of moves that the president is promoting, including belt-tightening, budget-stretching and figure-massaging. Just an hour a day will do wonders for your fiscal fitness.

7 to 9 a.m. -- Obama Today: A hard-hitting news show that will keep you informed on all the latest Obama news, including when the president woke up and what he had for breakfast. Regular features on the show include "Obama Agenda," "Eloquent Quote of the Day" and "Kenya Relative Report."

9 to 10 a.m. -- Meet the Dress: Fashion experts discuss the latest dress worn by Michelle Obama. Handbags, shoes and other accessories will also be critiqued. Viewers will have the opportunity to call in and suggest what the First Lady should wear the next day.

Oh Mama, it's President Obama!

As the results trickled in, the tears trickled down. Millions of faces glistened with tears on election night. There were tears of joy, as many Americans celebrated Barack Obama's historic victory; tears of sorrow, as many Americans lamented John McCain's loss; tears of gratitude, as many Americans got down on their knees and thanked God that the presidential race was finally over.

"No more negative ads, no more debates, no more promises they can't keep!" screamed a 40-year-old Detroit man, running into the street in jubilation. "And no more red and blue maps on TV!"

For African-Americans, especially those who had lived through the Civil Rights Era, it was a once-in-ten-lifetimes occasion, one that seemed unimaginable just a couple of years ago. "I don't believe it, I just don't believe it," said an 80-year-old Chicago man, rubbing his eyes. "A black man in the White House! And he's not carrying a broom!"

Column: There's something interesting in every Cabinet

Stephen Harper, Prime Minister of Canada, recently announced his new cabinet, giving portfolios of all sorts to 38 people. The cabinet includes Bev Oda, Minister of International Co-operation (formerly known as the Minister of Peace and Goodwill), Rona Ambrose, Minister of Labor (formerly the Minister of Labor and Childbirth), and Jim Prentice, Minister of the Environment (formerly the Minister of Ice and Snow).

Stockwell Day is the Minister of International Trade, which explains why there's a sign inside the Canadian Superstore that says: "Thanks to Stockwell Day, it's a well-stocked day."

Also in the new cabinet are Peter Van Loan, Minister of Public Safety (it's important to keep the public safe) and Christian Paradis, Minister of Public Works (it's important to keep the public working). Van Loan, as you can guess from his name, was also under serious consideration for the position of Minister of Vehicle Rentals.

The cabinet has four ministers in charge of "affairs": Gregory Thompson, Minister of Veterans Affairs, Josee Verner, Minister of Intergovernmental Affairs, Lawrence Cannon, Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Chuck Strahl, Minister of Indian Affairs (yes, Indians have affairs too). Cannon's appointment is a significant one, because it's been more than 50 years since Canada used a Cannon to handle Foreign Affairs.

Also appointed to the cabinet are Lisa Raitt, Minister of Natural Resources, Gail Shea, Minister of Fisheries and Oceans, and Helena Guergis, Minister of Backyard Pools. Actually, Guergis is Minister of State, Status of Women, a promotion from her previous position: Minister of State, Status of Babes and Honeys.

Cabinet positions vary considerably from one country to the next, as you can imagine. In India, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's Cabinet includes Lalu Prasad, Minister of Railways (also known as the Minister of Train Delays), Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi, Minister of Information and Broadcasting (also known as the Minister of Censorship), and Sis Ram Ola, Minister of Mines (also known as the Minister of Yours).

Column: The key to a happy marriage: hiring a private detective

When youngsters ask me for career advice, I tell them to drop whatever they're doing and become private detectives. They'd never run out of clients, especially if they specialize in marriage-related investigations (MRIs).

While the other kind of MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) helps you find out what's wrong with your body, this kind of MRI helps you find out what's wrong with your spouse.

It's increasingly common, in America and other western countries, for married people to hire private detectives to find out if their spouses are being unfaithful.

Detective: "Yes, Mrs. Spitzer, your husband is definitely cheating on you. I got word that he had booked a room at the Ritz-Carlton, so I rushed over there and, 15 minutes later, an attractive young blonde walked out wearing high heels, fishnet stockings and an inviting smile."

Mrs. Spitzer: "What about my husband? When did he leave?"

Detective: "I'm not sure. I went with the blonde into another room. I had to dust her for fingerprints."

In India, people are, seemingly, a little smarter. They hire the private detective BEFORE the wedding. Pre-wedding investigations are so common these days that a man isn't considered an eligible bachelor unless he has several detectives following him around.

Private detectives are usually hired to verify claims made by a prospective bride or groom or their parents. These claims often appear in matrimonial ads, which are sometimes so full of lies and exaggerations, they sound like political speeches. "If you choose me, your life will improve dramatically. Trust me, I am the best man for the job. I will be ready on Day One to satisfy you. I'll balance our budget (I have an MBA from Wharton), I'll improve our healthcare (I have an MD from Harvard) and I'll protect us from anyone who might try to harm us (I have a black belt from Lee's Gym). Forget about the other guys. They aren't as qualified as I am -- and they have too much experience. I've never even looked at a woman. I've been saving myself for you, waiting for you to walk into my life. I'm ready to sweep you off your feet. I'll entrance you like Hrithik Roshan, romance you like Shahrukh Khan, finance you like Mukesh Ambani."

Column: John McCain loses an important constituency

Senator John McCain spent much of the third and final presidential debate insisting that Senator Barack Obama's tax plan, unlike his, would hurt an Ohio man named "Joe the Plumber." But McCain suffered a major setback in his bid for the presidency when, moments after the debate, Joe the Plumber endorsed Obama.

"I don't approve of Senator Obama's tax plan," Joe the Plumber told the New York Times, "but I love the way he talks about it. He just expresses himself so well."

One political analyst called it a fatal blow for McCain's campaign, saying he'd be unable to recover from losing Joe the Plumber's vote. "It's over," proclaimed CNN analyst David Gergen. "It looks like Joe the Plumber has made sure that we'll soon see Joe the Vice President."

A Gallup/USA Today poll, taken right after the debate, found that 53 percent of likely voters plan to cast their ballots for Obama, 41 percent for McCain and the remaining 6 percent for Joe the Plumber. "It's unbelievable," Gergen said. "He's in third place and hasn't spent a dime. He's beating the pants off Ralph Nader."

Column: An elevator ride that's lasted eight years

My wife and I just celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary and let me tell you, I haven't been this happy since my dentist announced his retirement. We made it past seven years! Our marriage didn't fall victim to the dreaded seven-year itch, which has broken up more relationships than Jack Daniel's and Johnnie Walker combined. (Trust me, it's not a good idea to combine them.)

Some of you, I know, have been married for more than 50 years and are obviously unimpressed. If you're a man, you're probably saying to yourself, "Eight years is no big deal. I've been married so long, I've spent a total of eight years just waiting for my wife to get out of the bathroom." If you're a woman, you're probably saying to yourself, "Eight years! That's how long it took my husband to figure out the hooks on my bra."

Well, here's a confession: I'm still trying to figure out a lot of things. For example:

1. When a woman looks at her wardrobe and complains that she has "nothing at all to wear," does she really expect her husband to be concerned about the prospect of her wearing nothing at all?

2. When a woman talks to you during a football game, is it better to just nod your head and pretend you're listening or say something polite such as, "I don't mind if you talk during the game, dear, but please don't expect me to take the cotton balls out of my ears."

3. In which of these situations is it reasonable to say 'no' to a woman? (a) When she asks you to go to a department store to pick up a feminine hygiene product; (b) when she enters a fitting room in a department store and asks you to hold her handbag; or (c) when she enters a fitting room and asks you to pick up a feminine hygiene product while holding her handbag.

Sarah Palin's emails revealed

WASHINGTON - Hackers broke into the Yahoo! e-mail account that Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin used for official business as Alaska's governor, revealing as evidence a few inconsequential personal messages she has received since John McCain selected her as his running mate. -- Associated Press

---

Hi Honey,

I know you're very busy today, but I just have an important question: do I put the clothes in first or the detergent first? And is it okay to use the Spray ’n Wash on your Victoria's Secret thong?

Love you more than ice-fishing,

Todd

---

Dear Governor Palin,

I know you've been brushing up on your foreign policy, but Senator McCain wanted me to give you a few pointers, so the media doesn’t trip you up.

1. Russia is currently at war with Georgia. Whenever you get an opportunity, please express your solidarity with Governor Sonny Purdue.

2. If someone asks you about your thoughts on Africa, just say "Mugabe" and shake your head.

3. Africa is not a country – it’s a continent. Africa consists of a number of countries, such as South Africa, North Africa and West Africa.

4. People in Iran are known as Iranians, but people in Iraq are not Iraqians. They are “civilian casualties.”

6. People in Thailand speak Thai, but people in Iceland do not speak Ice. They speak Icelandian.

7. The president of Iran is Ahmadinejad. The preferred pronunciation is A-MAD-INJURER.

8. Libya has had only three leaders over the past 40 years: Gaddafi, Khadhafi and Qadhafi. The current leader is Qadhafi. His successor is expected to be Cadarfi.

9. People from Europe are not called Euros. They are called Europeans, a Greek term that, literally translated, means “slave to the Euro.”

10. Israel is our best friend. Please don’t tell Britain.

Hope that helps.

Ross McSwain

Column: Walking to the White House with the senior vote

It's a Friday evening and the cafeteria at Bethel County Retirement Home in Alaska is noisier than usual, as residents discuss the big news of the day. The two ladies seated in the corner, who often spend meal times grumbling about the lumpy gravy or unmashed potatoes, find themselves drawn into the excitement.

"Did you hear the news?"

"Of course I heard the news, Esther. I'm old, but I'm not deaf. I still can't believe it. Our governor, heading to the White House."

"Not the White House, Mildred. The other house. I dunno what it's called, but I'm sure it's big. Dick Cheney lives there, you know."

"Dick who?"

"Cheney. You know, the guy who shot his friend while hunting."

"Oh, that fella. Is Sarah Palin going to be safe, moving in with him?"

"She's not moving in with him. He's going to move out first."

"Oh, that's a relief. I was starting to wonder whether it was worth it for her to be president."

"Vice-president, Mildred. The only way she'd become president is if John McCain ... you know ... croaks."

"John who?"

"McCain. You know, the guy who's old enough to move here with us."

Column: The speech that left them speechless

What a fabulous speech Barack Obama gave at the Democratic National Convention in Denver, Colorado. It was so good that Bill Clinton turned to his wife, Hillary, and said, “What do you think, honey? Wasn’t that the best speech you’ve ever heard that I didn’t give?”

“It was a great speech,” Hillary replied. “Almost as great as the one I would have given.”

Decades from now, people will still be raving about Obama’s speech, not just die-hard Democrats but also the die-easy ones. Many will wish they could have been at the convention in Denver to witness history. Never before have so many people, not sitting on a Chicago street, held signs asking for “Change.”

History was also made, of course, when Obama became the first African-American to accept the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination, saying, “With profound gratitude and great humility, I thank Hillary Rodham Clinton once again. She is a champion of working Americans and an inspiration to my daughters and yours, showing them that with hard work and determination, they too can finish second.”

Obama was quick to attack his Republican opponent, John McCain, branding a McCain presidency as an extension of George W. Bush’s eight years in office. “On November 4, we must stand up and say: ‘Eight is enough,’” Obama said, borrowing the title of a popular 1970s television series to appeal to older voters.  “We must ‘Get Smart’ and climb aboard ‘The Love Boat’ for some ‘Good Times’ and ‘Happy Days.’”

Column: The Olympics give us reason to hope

If you're like most people, you didn't watch enough of the Beijing Olympics, partly because there were just too many events happening at the same time and partly because, having a full-time job, you had to spend a little time every morning coughing into the phone.

Considering everything that happened at the Olympics, I probably watched only one percent of the action. I completely missed the badminton and table tennis competition -- they must have been on TV while I was asleep -- and I caught only a little of the rhythmic dancing (Usain Bolt sure knows how to shake it). But I did watch quite a bit of the Jamaican sprint events, as well as the tiny tot gymnastics and the always-popular bikini show (disguised brilliantly as beach volleyball). And I got a thrill out of watching swimmer Michael Phelps make Olympic history, winning eight gold medals and setting a world record for total amount of chest exposure on TV. (Eat your heart out, Janet Jackson.)

These Olympics certainly left us with many unforgettable moments, starting with the spectacular opening ceremony that mesmerized people all over the world, even causing one family in West Virginia to pose for photographs next to their TV screen. I don't know about you, but I won't soon forget the awesome fireworks display, almost too amazing to be true, as well as that cute little girl who did a fabulous job of lip-synching.

Perhaps the most impressive performance at the Olympics belonged to Phelps, who left viewers around the world shaking their heads and asking one question: "How does he do it?" Americans wondered how he manages to break so many world records, while Germans and Russians wondered how he manages to pass all his drug tests.

Column: The shot heard around the world

In case you missed the news, in case you were sleeping under a rock or just got released from Guantanamo, India won its first-ever individual gold medal at the Beijing Olympics, causing 1.1 billion people to jump up and down with joy, touching off a minor earthquake in California and a major interruption in tech support.

Yes, an Indian man won an Olympic gold medal -- and without all his opponents getting injured. Abhinav Bindra, a 25-year-old from Delhi, won first place in the 10m air rifle event, beating 50 other shooters, including that great Albanian marksman Imer Gudschot.

So excited were members of the Indian Olympic Association, so taken in this moment of high-fives and champagne-popping, that some of them checked the official medal table to see if India had moved past America. No such luck, of course, but that didn't stop people from celebrating like it was the greatest Olympic achievement ever. And who can blame them? After all, it was their first individual gold medal since India began competing in the Olympics more than a century ago, back in the days when "catapulting" was an official sport.

"The drought is over!" screamed one newspaper's headline, causing even more celebration across the land, particularly in the farming community.

It was a shining moment for India on the world's greatest sporting stage. As one Indian politician eloquently put it, “Abhinav Bindra has shooted us all into glory!”

Column: Good spelling saves some yelling

Because I'm Indian, many people assume I'm good at spelling. After all, six of the last 10 winners of the National Spelling Bee are of Indian descent and three of them are now making millions on the PSA (Professional Spelling Association) tour.

Unfortunately, I'm a terrible speller. It's a good thing I can do a spell-check on my computer or I'd really embrace myself.

Spelling is a good skill to have -- and not just for writers. If you can't spell words correctly, your boss might give you a peace of his mind. And as a result, you won't have any piece of mind.

Spelling is particularly important in certain professions. If you're a tattoo artist, for example, it's a good idea to know how to spell because -- and I'm going out on a limb here -- few of your customers will be former spelling bee champions. Customers can get quite angry when they discover they have a permanent misspelling on their posterior.

Customer: "You idiot! Look what you wrote: 'My hart belongs to Tommy.'"

Tattoo artist (scratching head): "What's wrong with that?"

Customer: "It's supposed to be Tammy!"

Tattoo artist: "No problem, dude. I'll just change the O to an A. It won't look too bad."

Customer: "Okay, man. And I'll do the same with your check -- change the 0 to an A. It won't look too bad."

Column: Swap a kidney, but don't try to buy one

Anyone want to swap a kidney?

No, I don't need one, but Lois Wilson's husband, Dave, does. The British Columbia woman recently placed an ad on the classified site Craigslist, seeking another couple to swap kidneys with. Basically, if you need a kidney and Lois's kidney happens to match yours, and if your partner can spare a kidney that happens to match Dave's, the kidney swap can take place, as long as the authorities approve and neither kidney files a motion in court.

Thankfully, kidneys can't hire attorneys -- they don't have enough money -- but even so, finding a kidney is a major challenge, almost as difficult as finding a comb in Don King's house.

That's why Lois and others are willing to do swaps. It's officially known as the "live donor paired kidney exchange program" and is legal in at least two provinces in Canada. The "kidney exchange program" is sort of like the "student exchange program" that everyone is familiar with, except that kidneys stay for an indefinite period and are more hard-working.

Kidneys are extremely important to us. According to Wikipedia, kidneys have numerous roles within our bodies, including "excreting waste products, regulating blood pressure, secreting a variety of hormones and ensuring that the spleen feels totally inadequate."

Despite their importance, we tend to take our kidneys for granted. We spend more time thinking about our heart, our lungs and, at least three times a day, our stomach. Even when we go to the bathroom, we hardly ever think of our kidneys, unless we've had too much to drink and run into the towel rack. "Ouch! My kidney!"

Most of us will never have any kidney trouble, will never have to worry about searching for a replacement.  We can concentrate on replacing other things, such as our hair, our teeth and our "Hillary for President" bumper sticker.

Column: Appreciate Mandela while you can

Nelson Mandela will turn 90 soon and, much to my dismay, his birthday has not been declared an international holiday. I have no choice but to declare it a personal holiday and spend it thinking about Mandela and the great example of his life, while sipping beer on the couch. Let the wife take out the trash.

Wife: "What are you drinking at this time of the day?"

Me: "It's not what I'm drinking that's important. It's what I'm thinking."

Wife: "I know what you're thinking -- that you need to do more drinking."

Me: "No, I'm thinking about Nelson Mandela. Did you know that he spent 27 years in prison, then came out and reconciled with his oppressors? That means that there's still hope for Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger."

Wife: "Exactly how much have you had to drink?"

Actually, the only beer I drink is ginger beer. But I do occasionally drink wine and I'm hoping to raise a toast to the great man. Of course, one toast may not be enough. I'll probably have to toast him all day.

Me (raising glass): "To Mandela. May he live until he's 125."

Wife: "Isn't that your 125th toast today?"

Me: "Yeah, but don't worry: I'm going to take a break for breakfast. I'm starving."

Wife: "What are you going to have?"

Me: "Toast, of course. So I can raise it in Mandela's honor."

Column: Letter of Appreciation to Tiger Woods

Dear Tiger,

My name is Baldev Singh (no relation to Vijay) and I too play golf. You may have heard of me. Last month, I won the prestigious Iraq Open. Let me tell you, it was an amazing experience. I've never played on a course with so many bunkers. At first, I was reluctant to go to Iraq. But my friend Mahmoud said to me, "Don't worry, Baldev. Everyone has a blast there."

You must be wondering why Baldev, Iraq Open Champion, is writing you. Well, I heard you will not be playing again this year to recover from your knee injury and, on behalf of other professional golfers, I just want to say this: THANK YOU.

Thank you for giving us a chance. We know you could have kept on playing. You won the U.S. Open with an injured leg -- a torn ligament and two stress fractures -- and you could have won the British Open while lying on a stretcher. You could have made us look really bad. You could have made us read headlines like this: "Woods Wins British Open, Returns to Intensive Care Unit."

But instead, you decided to be a generous man. And we are very thankful for that. Phil Mickelson is so grateful, he plans to mention you in his autobiography "Almost the Best." David Toms is so grateful, he plans to compete in the British Open with the letters "DT" (Dedicated to Tiger) on his shirt. Vijay Singh is so grateful, he plans to donate 10 percent of his earnings this year to the Save the Tiger Fund.

Column: Obama makes history in more ways than one

Barack Obama has apparently clinched the Democratic Party's nomination for president, apparently gained enough delegates to ensure that he will run against John McCain to see who will spend the next four years looking totally incompetent.

I say "apparently" because you can never count out Hillary Clinton, even if it appears that she has dropped out of the race. She just never quits. That's why she's still married to Bill, when most women would have sent him packing after the 159th affair. "Let's keep trying," she says to him, words he's soon whispering into another woman's ear.

Yes, Hillary isn't a quitter. So don't be surprised if, between now and Aug. 25, when the Democrats hold their national convention, 100 Obama-supporting super-delegates mysteriously disappear, only to be discovered a year later at a commune in India, doing yoga and meditation.

But let's assume that Obama will be the nominee. It's important to pause and recognize the historical significance of this. It will be the first time in U.S. history that a major party has nominated a presidential candidate whose name begins with 'O.'

Obama is not only making history, he's opening the door for other 'O' candidates. Now you know why Oprah is so thrilled. And why there's so much excitement among the Irish. "It's wonderful," Irish cricketer Niall O'Brien said. "Everyone in Ireland is so happy that O'Bama won."

Column: Fold your arms and solve your problems

If you're having trouble solving a math problem or beating someone in chess or checkers, perhaps you should stop scratching your head. That really doesn't help you think clearer or make you look confident, though I suppose it's a little better than scratching yourself elsewhere. (I'm not an expert on scratching, though as a man I've done a fair bit of it in my lifetime.)

The best thing you can do, in terms of posture, is fold your arms. A new study has found that just by folding (or crossing) your arms, you'll have more perseverance and a greater desire to succeed. Yes, it's true. Researchers found that university students who folded their arms were more successful and persistent at solving anagrams than students who kept their hands on their thighs. I don't know about you, but I'm going to start folding my arms as much as I can. I want to be successful not just in solving problems, but also in other activities:

--- "Of course I'm in the mood, honey. Do you think we can do it with our arms folded?"

--- "I didn't mean to swerve, officer. My mouth slipped."

--- "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Gupta. Do you mind if we shake feet?"

The researchers, including Ron Friedman of Hobart and William Smith Colleges, got the idea of studying arm-folding while watching former pro basketball coach Pat Riley, who would even go to the men's room with his arms folded. Friedman wondered if Riley was gaining some kind of competitive edge from his posture. It's amazing how the mind of a scientist works. I've watched Riley and his folded arms many times and my reaction was always the same: "Give the man a blanket -- he's feeling cold."

Column: Guidelines for travelers entering America

A U.S. Appeals Court has ruled that airport officials do not need "reasonable suspicion" to download data from a traveler's laptop or personal electronic storage device and keep it indefinitely. Coincidentally, the Department of Homeland Security has issued new guidelines for people entering America by air:

1. By entering the United States, you give us the unqualified legal right to search all your belongings. This includes all items you are bringing to the United States, as well as items you have left behind. Be prepared to provide your home address, a set of keys and a copy of directions from Google maps.

2. By entering the United States, you give us the unqualified legal right to search your body and your clothing, together or apart.

You may be asked to remove any head covering, including but not limited to: (a) skullcaps; (b) turbans; and (c) toupees.

You may be asked to remove any body covering, including but not limited to: (a) shirts; (b) dresses; and (c) plaster casts.

You may be asked to remove items attached to your head or body, including but not limited to: (a) false teeth; (b) nose rings; and (c) cell phones.

3. By entering the United States, you give us the unqualified legal right to use various means to detect explosives, drugs or other illegal substances that you may be carrying or have recently consumed.

You may be subject to an X-ray of various body parts, including but not limited to: (a) your stomach; (b) your brain; and (c) your implants.

You may be subject to a thorough and intense dog sniffing. The sniffing may be directed toward but is not limited to: (a) your luggage; (b) your hand baggage; (c) your backside.

If you are afraid of dogs, you have the option of being sniffed by a lion.

You may also be asked to provide samples of fluids for testing, including but not limited to: (a) saliva; (b) urine; and (c) sweat. (The sweat will be collected during the interrogation.)

Column: Nothing nice about rice price

Rice is extremely popular in our household -- and I'm not talking about Condoleezza. I'm talking about the type of rice that looks warm and elegant at a dinner party.

My wife cooks rice almost every day. And when she isn't cooking rice, she's often making something out of rice, such as dosa and idli. She practically survives on rice. That's why I'm concerned about the rising price of rice, even more than the rising price of gas. I need gas to run my car, it's true, but I need rice to run my wife. Sure, she might operate on wheat or corn for a few weeks. But eventually I'd have to take her to the people mechanic.

Me: "She's been very sluggish lately, ever since I started filling her up with wheat and corn."

Doctor: "You're an idiot! Don't you know that she's got a rice engine?"

Me: "A rice engine?"

Doctor: "Yes, she's highly adapted to using rice as an energy source. Putting wheat and corn in her is like putting beer in your car. Only an idiot would do that."

Me: "Yeah, that's true. Lemonade is cheaper. Will she be all right? Is there any permanent damage?"

Doctor: "I'm not sure. Put her on the jack. I'll take a look under her."

Billions of other people share my wife's affinity for rice -- and that's just in India and China. Many people in Asia eat rice (or a rice product) three times a day. For them, it's not just a staple -- it's the entire stapler.

Column: A vacation you're guaranteed to enjoy

Dear Parents,

Please forgive this intrusion on your time. I know how busy and challenging life can be when you have children. Kids are such a joy! I have three little ones myself and let me tell you, when I'm at work, I'm constantly looking at my watch, counting how many hours are left before the peace and calm ends.

I went on vacation last year with my wife and kids. We spent seven days in Florida, and when we returned home, I was exhausted. I felt like I had run a marathon. Thankfully, I had to go to work the next day. I was able to recover. It occurred to me that I had just spent thousands of dollars on a vacation that allowed me few moments of rest and relaxation, moments that usually ended with someone pounding on the door and saying, "Dad, come out of there! I need to pee."

That's why I decided to form a new company called Vacation Solution Inc. It's what all parents have been waiting for, the solution to our vacation woes. Yes, now you can have a restful vacation, up to seven days and seven nights in a tropical paradise, with someone else's children. Let some other parents take your problems. I mean, children.

Signing up for one of our relaxing vacations is easy. Just go to our website and pick the children you want to vacation with. You'd better hurry! The best children are going fast. (Mine are still available. If you want to take them for a week in December, I'm offering a free high-definition TV.)

Even if you don't get the best children, don't worry. Chances are, whichever children you get, they'll behave better than your own. How do I know this? Well, it's a scientifically proven fact that children behave up to 28 percent better when they're with adults they don't know. People are always saying to me, "Your children are so well-behaved. They're such angels!" And I say to them, "How would you like a free high-def TV?"

Column: Lock up the dissidents, the Olympics are coming

As the 2008 Summer Olympics approach, many people are scratching their heads and asking, "How in heaven's name was Beijing selected as the host city?" The answer is simple: Beijing was chosen because Baghdad was unavailable. Actually, the International Olympic Committee wanted to encourage China to emulate previous hosts and pursue democratic principles. China, in turn, pledged to be good hosts, promising to make athletes and other guests comfortable and, for at least three weeks, suspend all human rights abuses.

It's a good arrangement, really, opening the door for future Olympics to be held in places such as Tehran, Iran, and Pyongyang, North Korea. I don't know about you, but I'm really looking forward to the 2020 Guantánamo Bay Olympics. By then, waterboarding will be an official event.

The Beijing Olympics are destined to be the most successful games in Olympic history. And if you don't believe me, just ask any Chinese journalist who isn't in prison. "Best Olympics ever," they will say. "That's what we've been told."

If you're a foreign journalist who disagrees, that's okay. You have the freedom to say what you want, while people in China have the freedom to believe whatever their government lets them.

Column: Obama belongs to all of us

I have a message for my African-American friends: Stop claiming Barack Obama as one of yours. He's not one of yours. He's one of OURS. In case you haven't checked, Obama isn't just black. He's half-black, half-white and half-Asian. Okay, perhaps he isn't half-Asian, but his step-father was Indonesian, he was raised partly in Indonesia, and most of his clothes are from Asia. So don't you dare laugh when you're driving through Chinatown and see a bumper sticker that says "I'm Voting For Obama. He's Almost Asian!"

If you're Hispanic, you can take pride in him too. Did you know that Obama loves tortilla chips and salsa, and he once sat through an entire Jennifer Lopez movie? Yes, the man has gone to great pains to discover his Hispanic side.

When they make a movie about Obama, you'll see him flying to the White House in a cape, with people gazing up and gasping, "It's a black man! It's a white man! It's everyman!"

Obama identified himself with the African-American community as a young man, partly because he felt a need to belong, and that suits everyone just fine, because we love to put people into neat categories. But his background is quite different from most African-Americans. After all, there aren't many African-Americans who could organize a family reunion and harbor a slight fear that Dick Cheney might show up.

And there aren't many African-Americans who could fly to Africa, host a dinner party for their extended family and have hundreds of people showing up, most of whom are actually related to them.

Column: The billionaire's house that will help everyone

What kind of house does a billionaire build? Well, if you're Bill Gates, you build a $100 million, high-tech house that's full of modern amenities, such as a 17-by-60-foot swimming pool that plays music underwater, a reception hall that seats 150 people and an underground shelter in case the maids and gardeners need to hide from immigration.

If you're Mukesh Ambani, the Indian industrialist, you build a house that has 27 floors, a parking garage for 168 imported cars, and three helipads, so you don't have to drive any of those cars. At least not until they build special lanes for billionaires.

Ambani's house, named Antilla and sprouting on Mumbai's Altamount Road, is costing hundreds of millions of dollars -- as much as $1 billion, according to some reports -- but that's no major burden for one of the richest men in the world. How rich is he? He's rich enough to contribute millions of dollars to Bill and Hillary Clinton, if only politicians weren't so ethical. He's rich enough to buy his very own island in the Pacific, if only Australia were for sale. He's rich enough to immunize and educate millions of Indian children, if only Bill Gates weren't doing that already.

There are many ways to contribute to society, many ways to help the disadvantaged, and one of the ways Ambani is doing it, his supporters have me convinced, is by building a huge house. So before you judge him, before you label his house an appalling and outrageous display of wealth, you need to look at the positive impact the house will have on thousands, if not millions, of Indians. Indeed, some people are already calling it the Mother Teresa of Houses.

Column: Scientific research does wonders for our lives

Where would we be without scientific research? Six feet under, probably. I say "probably" because some of us might still be moving around, the ones who've had their ashes scattered in the ocean.

Yes, scientific research is vital to our existence, almost as important as food, oxygen and coffee. But wait a minute, you might say, the cavemen didn't conduct research and they managed just fine. Well, that's not completely true. They did conduct research -- they just didn't think of publishing it. Oongah the caveman, for example, was able to conclude, from counting all the bumps on his head, that it wasn't good for his health to comment on his wife's weight. His wife, meanwhile, was able to conclude that it was possible to make a man change his ways, without resorting to violence. Just by withholding certain favors, you could get him to bang his head against the wall.

Modern research is more sophisticated, of course, and more widespread. Just do an Internet search and you'll come across thousands of studies that have been conducted all over the world, even in Saskatchewan, Canada. A few recent ones underscore the importance of funding scientific research and keeping researchers happy. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that my wife is a researcher. She has conducted mostly animal research, including an ongoing experiment on what it's like to be married to one.)

Column: The hardest job in the world

Until I became a parent, I didn't know how challenging it could be. I thought it would be easy, like driving in New York City or getting all my teeth pulled. I thought I would just make the rules -- "Don't forget to tidy your room before going to bed" -- and my children would follow them -- "Yes, Dad, we'll do it right away. Would you like us to tidy your room too?"

I didn't realize how much hair-pulling and teeth-gnashing there would be. I didn't realize how often I'd hear the question "Do we have to keep doing this?" and how often I'd have to reply "Yes, dear, I know it's hard, but we can't give up until the kids are 18."

Don't get me wrong. Parenting has brought a lot of joy to my life. One of my greatest joys, for example, is looking at my three children, admiring their sweet, innocent faces, when they're fast asleep. What immense joy. So much peace and calm in the house. The perfect time to do something romantic with my wife, if only we could find the energy.

When I see teen-agers having babies, I wonder if they know what they're getting into. Have they really thought it through or are they just hoping that their children, by some miracle, will be mini versions of Mother Teresa? I wish my children would be more like Mother Teresa. I'd like to send them off to Calcutta.

Column: A fight that's making boxing history

Are you enjoying the big fight? I am. I lost interest in boxing in the 1990s, soon after Mike Tyson fell from grace, but I'm enjoying the sport once again, thanks to all the jabs and fancy footwork in this epic Obama-Clinton clash.

The first round went to Barack Obama, known in boxing circles as The Barackuda. He landed dozens of punches and also followed an unusual boxing tactic: stomping on Hillary Clinton's toes. So dominant was he that when the bell rang, she ran to her corner, sat down and cried. "Boo hoo! He hurt me!"

Everyone thought she'd throw in the towel and run to the locker room, but she's a real fighter. Her trainer, Bill, got her ready, wiping away her tears, treating the cut below her eye and pumping her up with words such as "Go get him, girl!" and "He's a man. Hit him where it hurts!"

Obama came out strong in Round Two with a series of jabs that convinced boxing experts he'd easily win the round. But with a minute left, Clinton stunned everyone with a well-aimed punch that almost floored Obama. Poor guy didn't know what hit him. "Ouch!" he said, staggering into the ropes. "Thank God I wore a cup."

Before he could recover, she nailed him again with an uppercut to the chin, then elbowed him in the gut. “Is that allowed?” Obama asked, but the female referee was distracted by Trainer Bill, who was flashing his undershorts at her. “Hey ref,” Bill shouted. “How'd you like to handle these boxers?”

After splitting the first two rounds, the fighters were determined to win Round Three and came out with a flurry of punches, prompting some boxing analysts to start comparing the fight to the classic 1975 Ali-Frazier clash, known as the Thrilla in Manila. The main difference, of course, was that Ali and Frazier didn't fight dirty.

Column: Don't say no-no to the Nano

Here's some exciting news: The world's cheapest car will soon be hitting the roads of India. Tata Motors recently unveiled the Nano, a car that will surely make many middle-class people happy, particularly Hyundai owners, who will now feel like they're driving luxury cars.

The Nano will come in three models, with the standard one carrying a dealer price of only Rs. 1 lakh (about $2,500), or what Paris Hilton spends on hairspray. As you can imagine, there’s been tons of interest in the Nano, ever since the very first press conference.

Tata spokesman: "We're pleased to announce that we're going to be introducing a one-lakh car."

Reporter: "A one-lakh car? Will it have four wheels?"

Spokesman: "Yes, it will have four wheels -- and even a steering wheel."

Reporter: "What about brakes?"

Spokesman: "Yes, it will have brakes."

Reporter: "Headlights?"

Spokesman: "Yes, it will have headlights."

Reporter: "Air-conditioning?"

Spokesman: "It's a one-lakh car, you idiot!"

The Nano may seem cheap to some Indians, but for others, it's just the right price, enabling them to switch from two wheels to four, to put a roof over their heads. The car is designed to seat five people, which means it's perfect for a family of 12. Three-year-old Raju no longer needs to ride on the crossbar -- he can move to a far more comfortable spot on great-grandma's lap.

Column: 2008 will be a historic year

As the new year begins, I'd like to take this opportunity to wish my loyal readers much happiness in 2008. I hope the year brings good health and prosperity to both of you.

It's going to be a historic year, a year in which we'll see the first African-American elected to the White House. How do I know this? Well, as a committed journalist, I do a great amount of research, looking at surveys, trends and other data. And then I throw it all away and consult a tarot reader. I also gaze into a crystal ball and make a long-distance call to a Zambian witch doctor. Yes, I cover all my bases, which is how I'm able to make bold predictions like this: India will win more medals at the Olympic Games in Beijing than the entire continent of Antarctica.

If you don't think that prediction is bold enough, here's one that will really knock your socks off:  Peace will finally come to the Middle East. Yes, both Israelis and Palestinians will be thrilled to get a visit from British author David Peace.

Here's what else I see in 2008:

• Democrat Barack Obama is elected president of America, beating Republican Mike Huckabee in a landslide. To the delight of his biggest supporter, he announces plans to convert a section of the White House into a studio for The Oprah Winfrey Show. That enables him to appear on the show regularly and gives Oprah a bigger stage to continue leading the American people.

• Osama bin Laden, upset that not enough people are listening to his recorded messages, releases his next video on YouTube and attracts millions of viewers by calling it "Osama's Night With Paris Hilton." But most viewers are disappointed to find Osama lecturing them from the steps of the Hilton hotel in Paris.

Column: The children and the couch: a stained relationship

My wife and I are in the market for a new couch. And by that I mean that she's looking for a piece of fine furniture that will enhance the decor of our living room, matching the other furnishings and creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort, while I'm looking for something long enough to sleep on.

Our old couch has become rather ratty. We don't want to keep it much longer, even if we can get rid of the rats.

Actually, we don't have any rats. We have something worse: brats. Three of them, to be precise. There's a 5-year-old named Lekha who likes to jump on the couch, a 3-year-old named Divya who likes to spill food on the couch, and a 20-month-old named Rahul who likes to jump on the food on the couch. (Someone has to work it into the fabric.)

Rahul hasn't yet learned how to drink from cups, but when his sisters are drinking on the couch, he insists on doing it too. And when he's done, he's often the only one still sitting on the couch, though he'd feel drier and a lot more comfortable sitting on the kitchen sponge.

As you can imagine, Rahul has left a number of stains on the couch. I've tried to have a positive attitude about this. I've tried to think of him as an artist and the couch as his canvas. I've tried to move young Michelangelo around, so he can create a symmetrical pattern.

The problem is, the couch has been partitioned, in much the same way that India was. The left side belongs to Lekha, the right side to Divya, and the middle to Rahul. (I have to give my kids credit: they did a better job than the British.) What this means is that Rahul cannot move around freely, not without getting a visa.

Column: Why gift when you can regift?

If someone gives you a handbag you don't particularly like, what should you do with it? If you have a gift receipt or know which store it came from, you might be able to return it. But if you don't, you have three options: (1) Donate it to a thrift store or charity; (2) Regift it to a friend or relative; or (3) Keep it in a closet and take it out whenever you need to swat a fly.

Thankfully, no one gives me handbags, but I have received a few gifts I didn't like. And though I hate to admit it, I've regifted a couple of them fairly successfully. I say "fairly," because my California friend wasn't too crazy about the long underwear. But at least his wife seemed to appreciate the mustache trimmer.

You may think that regifting is tacky and improper, that it should be done only under extreme circumstances, such as when your pantry is overflowing with fruitcake and there just aren't enough dogs around. But regifting has become more common these days, partly because it solves two problems at once. It allows you to get rid of the unneeded gift while also saving you the trouble of going to the store and searching for a gift for a friend who doesn't really need anything and ought to be satisfied with the Anna Kournikova calendar, so what if he's gay. (Hey, I'm straight and I have a picture of Clay Aiken on my wall. No, wait, it's Meg Ryan.)

Regifting is far more common than you think. In fact, if you happen to receive one of those Chia Pets as a gift, keep in mind that it's probably been in circulation since 1979, probably been tossed out of more homes than an Amway rep.

Some gifts have traveled across the world and back. You give a white hat to Aunt Rani, who doesn't care for it and gives it to her cousin Shilpa, who gives it to her friend Anita, who takes it to India and gives it to her grandma, Archana, who gives it to her maid, Priya, who gives it to her mother, Raji, who glues a few shells on it and sells it for 2,000 rupees to an American tourist, who returns to New York and gives it to her mother, who is rather thrilled to have a replica of the Taj Mahal.

Column: Dear Santa, I'm on your side

Dear Santa,

It’s been almost 365 days since I wrote to you and I want to begin by telling you that the gift you brought me last Christmas just didn’t cut it. I don’t know where you picked up that lousy beard trimmer. I guess it was silly of me to expect someone like you to know anything about beard trimmers.

Before I give you my wish list for this Christmas, I’m sure you want to know whether I’ve been naughty or nice. I’ve been extremely nice, Santa. Unlike you, I haven’t said “ho ho ho” to anyone. I haven’t called a single person “ho,” not even a married one. But I did get slapped in the garden center of Wal-Mart when I asked for a certain digging implement. People are just so touchy these days.

Don’t get me wrong, Santa. I support your right to say “ho ho ho” to anyone you please. People who complain about that are just horrible and hopeless and probably offended that those words begin with ‘ho.’

I’m on your side, Santa, that’s what I want to say. I don’t agree with the U.S. Surgeon General, who believes you’re fat and unhealthy and a poor role model for kids. You’ve always been a good role model for me, Santa. At dinner time, when I’m trying to decide whether to have another slice of pizza, I always ask myself, “What would Santa do?” And then I eat five more.

I also disagree with the people who want you to stop saying “Merry Christmas” because it might offend people of other religions. It’s so easy to get offended these days, Santa. I could get offended every time someone says “What’s up?” to me. Frankly, Santa, I’m getting old and there’s nothing up anymore. Well, aside from my cholesterol, that is.

Listen, Santa, I’d prefer it if you didn’t say “Happy Holidays!” That’s just so dull and insipid. Instead of that, why not say “Merry Christmas!” to Christians and “Happy Diwali” to Hindus? And if you’re not sure if someone is Christian or Hindu, just say, “Merry Chriswali!”

Column: Many reasons to be thankful

I've always enjoyed Thanksgiving in America, because it reminds everyone to be thankful. Just go to any home on Thanksgiving Day and you will meet people who are thankful -- thankful they have an opportunity, in this great country, to stuff themselves with food. Yes, many people spend the entire day being thankful.

I wish everyone around the world could be just as thankful -- and not just once a year. There are many reasons to be thankful. Here are just a few:

Be thankful if you have food on your plate, if you aren't constantly hungry, if you don't lick your lips whenever you spot your neighbor's Chihuahua.

Be thankful if you have an unlimited supply of water, if your plants don't have to be that thirsty, if your children don't have to be that dirty.

Be thankful if you enjoy freedom of speech, if you can write a book portraying the president as a horse's behind, if you don't have to extricate the book from yours.

Be thankful if you have freedom of worship, if you can attend a church, temple or mosque without any fear, if no one stones you when you wear your "Elvis is king" T-shirt.

Be thankful if you're smarter than the average teen, if you can find Oman, Sudan, Kenya and Samoa on a world map, if you don't think they're parts of speech, as in: "Oman, I'm Sudan tired! Kenya give me Samoa water?"

Be thankful if you have health insurance or free health care, if you can see a doctor anytime you wish, if your doctor isn't sitting in front of a web camera in Bangalore.

Column: Don't sag, you might get fined

You may be surprised to learn that a handful of towns and cities in America have passed laws against sagging. But don’t worry, ladies, it’s nothing against you. Unless you wear your pants too low, that is.

That type of sagging has been popular among youngsters for years. It all started in the fall of 1992 when a teen-age boy in Los Angeles, rushing to get to school, forgot to pull his jeans all the way up. The boy happened to be a star on the high school football team, so everything he did was considered “cool.” Pretty soon, dozens of boys were walking around with their pants hanging halfway down their butts, looking like they escaped from the nearby psychiatric hospital. A few girls followed suit, excited that everyone would now know that they wore designer underwear.

What started in one school spread like a disease to many others, all over the world, prompting Ayatollah Khamenei of Iran to give a sermon on the “evil trouser styles of the West.” Signs in many mosques were updated to say: “Don’t swear. Don’t stare. Don’t show your underwear.”

Many adults in the western world were just as displeased about the trend, believing that it fell somewhere between “indecent" and “inane.” While youngsters thought they were making a fashion statement, the only statement adults could detect was: "Duh, my jeans have fallen, and I can't get them up."

The idea of wearing pants so low was particularly appalling to men in their sixties and seventies, many of whom had made it a habit to pull their pants up to their armpits.

Only a small proportion of adults seemed to approve of the fashion trend. Most were middle-aged men who didn’t pull their pants up either, because their bellies got in the way.

Column: Hit the border, the dollar is up

If you just inherited 100,000 dollars from a long-lost relative, you’d better hope it’s from the right country. If it’s Canadian dollars, you can throw a big party; if it’s American or Australian dollars, you can pop some champagne; and if it’s Zimbabwean dollars, you’d better get a hanky.

Yes, the Zimbabwean dollar isn’t doing too well. Your inheritance might still buy you a car, but only if there’s a clearance sale at the toy store.

The U.S. dollar hasn’t plunged quite that far, but it’s starting to resemble Pam Anderson’s neckline. If it drops any further, Dick Cheney might have a heart attack.

At the start of the year, one U.S. dollar would get you 1.17 Canadian dollars, which was a pleasant surprise to American tourists, including the man who exclaimed, “I had no idea those people up north had their own money.”

Today, the U.S. dollar is worth 0.94 Canadian dollars, which has created a lot of excitement among Canadians, especially all the people who like to cross the border to shop. Marketing experts have a term for these people: ‘women.’

Canadian women, even those who don’t know the first thing about finances, are keeping track of the dollar’s value as closely as they keep track of General Hospital. “It’s up by a cent!” they yell to their husbands or boyfriends. “That means, if we convert $1,000, let me see ... we can get an extra set of panties!”

Go to any bank and you’re likely to find someone converting, someone with a big purse and an even bigger smile. There hasn’t been this much converting in Canada since Billy Graham last visited.

Column: Men excluded, us included

They’ve done it in India, they’ve done it in Japan,
they’ve come up with a good plan.

And they’ll be doing it in South Korea too,
sending out the painting crew.

“Ladies only” the train cars will say,
and it doesn’t matter if you’re gay.

You’re not supposed to go in there,
no matter what kind of earrings you wear.

Leave them alone, give them their space;
don’t force them to use their Mace.

They want to be away from certain kinds of men;
they want to have a safe place for Rani, Miko and Gwen.

They want to be away from men who move in too tight;
they want to be away from men who pinch with delight.

They want to be away from men who like to leer;
they want to be away from men who stare at their rear.

They want to be away from men who are big flirts;
they want to be away from men who look down their shirts.