Jack McCoy never saw this coming.

Yet one more reason I wish Law and Order were still on the air, "ripping stories from the headlines" like this one.

Maybe it's me - okay, it's definitely me - but I'm positive that if I were up on 24 counts of law-breaking related to various misdeeds that took place while I held a pretty responsible public position in government, the last thing on my mind would be "tweeting" everyday about the hours I spent in Court.

The question is: are the tweets protected? Can the prosecution use them? Isn't this akin to trying your case in the court of public opinion?

Adam Schiff would never stand for it. And he'd never, ever use the word Tweet.

Hope you enjoy today's column.

Stories like this convince me I'm not quite as insane as I usually think I am.

If anyone reads this blog regularly - which is certainly open to debate - they will surely bear witness to the fact that I have issues. Lots of them.

Not the least of which is the self-doubt and nagging thoughts that plague me about how I've irreparably damaged my children, through my own insecurities, incompetence and just plain old mistakes I've made over the years. On my worst days, I truly believe they don't have enough hours left in their lives for the therapy they'll need to overcome my "parenting."

Then - just when I'm about ready to weep, I read something like this and it cheers me up considerably. I may have made mistakes - in the thousands by now - and I may have lost it from time to time, and I may have said or done some things I regret, but by God I never once thought about the fashion statements my children were making with their diapers. Not once.

That has to count for something, right? Score one for me?

Here's the link to today's Daily Caller column. And if you buy and love these diapers, I really want to understand why. I've clearly missed something here.

Gag me.

I adore this quote. I really do, courtesy of Levine Breaking News:

"My schedule is such that I don't get very much time to eat. But I certainly don't have an eating problem.

A little MDMA [Ecstasy] once in a while never killed anybody, but I really don't do drugs. I don't touch cocaine anymore.

I don't smoke. Well, maybe a single cigarette - with whisky - while I'm working, because it just frees my mind a little bit.

But I care about my voice. The thrill of my voice being healthy on stage is really special.

I take care of myself."

Let's deconstruct that for a second, okay?

Not getting very much time to eat = no eating problem.

Not doing drugs = taking Ecstasy once in a while.

Not smoking = a cigarette with whisky, while on the job.

All of this = freeing your mind + taking care of yourself.


Just two days later, I read this story one on MSN's homepage:

"...she never touches cocaine and that her habit of collapsing may be related to the tests for lupus she's undergoing.

...she also admits to taking prescription medication -- and the occasional hit of ecstasy -- to keep her "tortured" thoughts at bay."

Translation:

"habit" of collapsing = medical tests

Prescription meds + occasional ecstasy hit = good mental health

The winner of this month's "I want to be Amy Winehouse" award is Lady Gaga.

For God's sake, is this what makes icons these days? Is this what we admire in our "artists?"

Let me admit right here, right now that I have no idea who Lady Gaga is. None. I haven't heard a note of her music - on purpose anyway - nor have I seen her perform, nor have I heard so much as one word of an interview she's given. So yes, maybe that makes this post extremely snotty and judgmental. Maybe it's condescending and ill-informed. I grant you all of that may be true.

So grant me this: she's hardly an admirable person. Nor does she particularly need to be. No one has to hit a certain IQ minimum to get a record contract. No one takes an ethics test in order to become a pop sensation. She doesn't need to be sober, or drug-free, or healthy to gain fame and build an enormous fan base.

I don't expect my favorite performers or musicians or artists to be perfect. But it helps if they seem somewhat centered and solid, at least in terms of their art.

Even that doesn't really work, though, does it? The list of artists who are - sometimes - fatally flawed, is long and eclectic. They've had trouble with alcohol and drug abuse, sex scandals or various other addictions.

It just seems to me - and this is only one theory - that years ago, before a celebrity could start to succumb to the temptations of money and fame, they had to be living a life of money and fame. How is it that these days, the first thing - okay, the second thing - we hear about some celebrities are the demons they're battling? Really? You're there already?

Ugh. It's feels almost like the faster you fall, the bigger you are. And if you spend years atop the mountain, enjoying your fame and building on your success without the drama, the rehab, the arrests, the custody battles, the acting out, the jail terms, the accusations, or the cheating, you're never going to get the money and publicity of the quasi-talented celebrities who command the headlines daily.

But you probably sleep at night. You probably know how to have real relationship with people who aren't part of your entourage. And you'll probably still be working and doing what you love long after these other 'stars' burn out.

Yes, one more scrap of proof that I have issues.

Although in this case, twenty years can't be wrong.

I started watching Law and Order when my first son was born in 1990. I have clear memories of bravely fighting sleep at 10 pm, and making it through the arrest before falling asleep on the loveseat. I don't think I saw anyone prosecuted (10:30 pm - 11 pm) until at least 1995.

I also remember startling myself awake one night to the sound of a baby in distress and starting up the stairs to check on him. My husband stopped me and said, "It's on TV." Ah - Law and Order; got it. This is partly why I could watch the show for years and they were all new. I never saw the second half.

My attraction to the show never faded; in fact I've shared the experience with my boys, who agree that Jack McCoy is fiercesome.

All this to say, it's the end of an era. (Note: a brief but sincere "thanks for trying," to James.) I'm not sure I'll be literally wearing a black arm band on Monday, but I'll want to. As my brief homage, I offer today's Daily Caller column.

Enjoy.

Why are you like this? (Don't answer that.)

If someone asked you to describe your children in just a few words, what would you say?

I had a few not so uplifting adjectives occur to me the other night, as we attacked and ultimately subdued the dorm rooms that seem to have exploded in various bedrooms and spilled over into our hallway.

By around midnight, I settled on just the one word that seemed to cover everything.

Today's DC column is attached. For everyone moving someone home, remembering the move home, or dreading that day, enjoy.

This is mostly just questions. Prompted by SATC and too much Tiger in the news.

In Sex and the City, a movie I’m still not sure I like, married couple Miranda and Steve go through a painful separation after he admits he had sex with another woman. According to Steve, he and Miranda had been through a distant period in their marriage with very little intimacy between them and “it just happened once” with someone else and “it didn’t mean anything.” He also shares these sad, plaintive statements: “Don’t know how I could do that to you.” “It just happened.” “I wasn’t thinking.”

I guess that’s exactly what someone says to the spouse they discover they truly love after straying into warmer arms for a night or two or twenty and then harboring guilt and regret. But here’s the thing. I don’t understand how something like this can “just happen.” It “just happens” only when one partner puts themselves in a situation where it can not only “just happen,” it’s very likely to happen.

I have a lot of friends who are men. Not once did I ever find myself in a compromising position with any of them. (I have no idea if any of them believe the “When Harry Met Sally” theory about men wanting a sexual relationship with just about every woman they know.) For me, I have two reasons I’ve never had an affair:

1. I’m married.

2. I have too much respect for my husband, my male friends – and their wives – to ever risk their friendship over an affair.

Many years ago, a (guy) friend of mine told me something profoundly simple: “The easiest way for a man to never, ever cheat on his wife is to never, ever be alone in a room with any woman other than his mother or his sister for any length of time.” [Needless to say, he was true to his word and he and I were never alone anywhere, anytime.] Did we meet to share a drink occasionally; or a lunch; or have a friendly phone call or even an out of town trip or two over the years? Yes; to all of those things. But don’t misunderstand this: his statement wasn’t protesting too much. I never doubted his commitment to his wife and family.

Maybe he sounds kind of extreme; maybe not. We’ve all heard stories about workday trysts in empty conference rooms or in deserted offices or parking lots, stolen moments in the meeting room, the church basement, or near the soccer field, not to mention in out-of-town hotel rooms. Sounds like a pretty good rule to me, for a married man or married woman.

But you know what line I never understand in this SATC scene between Miranda and Steve in the movie? It’s when Steve tries to comfort the distraught Miranda who is rejecting him and their marriage by saying, “It’s still me.”

Miranda answers in the only way that makes any sense: “Is it?”

I think she has exactly the right response to that odd little notion. I need an explanation of his explanation. “It’s still me?” What does that mean? What’s still him? He’s still the guy who will cheat on his wife if he feels lonely or neglected or – you’ll forgive the vernacular – horny? Or he’s still the guy who loves her and desperately wants his marriage to work but his extra partner just happened while he wasn’t thinking? Which guy is he? A lunkhead who couldn’t help himself, who doesn’t know how he could have done this or is he a loyal husband who was seduced by a temptress?

Maybe he means it’s still him, completely familiar and recognizable to his wife but for this one teeny tiny little thing he did that was so startling: cheating on her. In which case, to me anyway – he’s just a little bit different than she ever imagined him.

I’m not saying this is a deal-breaker. That depends on the couple and their own situation and many other variables I can’t begin to quantify or judge. I have friends whose marriages have endured after an affair. I have others who have ended their marriage for the same reason. Again, not my call and I can honestly say I don’t know what my reaction would be in that situation.

But I am saying I’m not sure how in the movie, Steve can be both men at once: the contrite louse who wants forgiveness and the clueless stag who found a convenient and warm bed, even for just one night, although that appears to be his contention. He confesses his indiscretion, an act he deeply regrets; he loves Miranda and wants her forgiveness. The question is: is cheating on her just part of ‘him being him?’ And she’s supposed to forgive it on that basis?

Let me go on record here with one sort of sidebar thought for any married men reading this. I can pretty much guarantee you that if your wife is out in the workplace, or involved in your children’s school activities or volunteers with the church group or has a weekly bowling night out with her girlfriends, a man has hit on her. Yes, it’s true. Read that again: your wife has in all likelihood had a guy approach her in a sexual / romantic way, flirt with her or in other ways send her signals that he was interested in her. Maybe he was even someone you know.

What’s that? She never told you? No kidding. You know why? Because the idea of having an affair was so nonsensical she couldn’t be bothered to share it. She declines (almost of the time, women do decline) and moves on with a little something she calls reality. Flattering? Maybe. Kind of intriguing? Sure. Tempting? I’m guessing at least sometimes, yes. Something she will act on? Maybe, but unlikely.

Tiger Woods and Ashley Madison.com notwithstanding, turns out that most men and most women don’t cheat on their spouses. A study by the National Opinion Research Center concluded that a mere 3% of married women and 4% of married men have cheated on their spouses. Alternatively, the “American Sexual Behavior” survey concluded that 22% of married men have cheated and 15% of women. I could go on here but you get the point. Studies are flawed and statistics are skewed. No one knows the real stats behind infidelity. But even with these wide disparities, we’re not finding a majority either way.

Look, I fully acknowledge that some marriages are loveless, distant, cold and unsatisfying to the partners for any number of reasons. I fully acknowledge that there is such a thing as “irreconcilable differences.” I know that some people enjoy the illicit nature of an affair and love the excitement surrounding new love and the romance of it all. This might be easier on everyone if we just acknowledged this: you’ll probably meet some fascinating, interesting, attractive people throughout your life – despite being a happily married adult. Even the most loyal among us have to acknowledge a fleeting “crush” that goes nowhere and then fades.
But when a marriage is broken and irreparable, staying together is pointless and debilitating to everyone in or around the marriage.

What I can’t work out is how one partner can do something hurtful, know that it’s hurtful, and then explain it with something as pathetic as “It’s still me.”

If that’s the case, then maybe you just gave your partner a really good reason to walk away. As they leave you behind, they can honestly say, “It’s still me…just without you.”

Why is it that the only people who "take responsibility" these days are almost always the bad guys?

In an effort to view the headline landscape surrounding us daily, I did a few quick searches online. Then I remembered something I had written about 5 years ago and was struck by the difference.

Today's Daily Caller column elaborates on the situation. I don't think I'm imagining this. Reading today's headlines feels like a trip down memory lane. They sound exactly like we did when we were kids and wanted to get out of a bad situation, only the details are different. Instead of arguing about Barbie, or taking turns, or not doing something we were supposed to do, it's about Congress, or BP Oil, or political views. "It's not MY fault!" "She started it!" "They did it, not me!"

Good lord, can't we all grow up a bit and move onto solutions? We seem to be stuck on "who did it," not what can be done about it.

The Merry Month of May

One year ago, the month of May started to take on a new meaning for me. It became “the month college ended and my son would move home.” This year, it has three times as much meaning. It’s the month all three of my sons will end the college year and soon move home. For a little while anyway.

Spending that first school year with my oldest son gone was an adjustment for all of us. My comfort during that time was that my twin sons were still home – but only for one more year before they would graduate. Then they, too, found their way into the college life and now are about to wind up their freshman years.

I find myself wondering who is more different this year: me or them. It was very hard to spend a school year with all my boys gone. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I missed them everyday. Walking by their bedroom doors without entering their rooms and smoothing a bed cover or re-positioning a desk chair that was already squarely in front of a desk, and then eventually walking by with no more than a glance into each room, took me much longer than I expected it would. But I got there, or mostly got there.

Thing is, there’s nothing I want more for them than lives of happy independence. Lives that fulfill them and thrill them. Years ahead where they meet people and travel to places that are full of promise about what might be. So why does it feel like I want to hold on so tightly?

Maybe it’s because I can’t really imagine my role in their lives unless I’m their Mom. I know – that won’t really change except that as the years pass, the definition of ‘Mom’ becomes more and more hazy. When your kids are small, you’re the one who just knows a lot about a lot of stuff. Some of it sort of important, like how to recognize Chicken Pox or “Fifth’s Disease” and some of it trivial, like the names of all the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. When your kids are small, you need to know about cool mist vaporizers and Pedialyte and when to take off the training wheels.

But then one day, you’ve become the smallest person in the house and you wonder: Who are you if you’re not the person who manages and clarifies daily life? Who are you if you’re not the person who asks when they’ll be home and who they’re going out with and where they’re going? Who are you if you’re not the person who worries?

I’ve spent a couple of years now, knowing that they’re leading busy lives, on and off campuses, and not once did I have the opportunity to say “Be careful” as they went out for the evening. I admit to calling each of them during one of this winter’s snow storms and asking them to please stay put and not venture out onto the road. The only thing that makes this mildly amusing is that not one of them had a car on campus.

The truth is, it’s my own fantasy that I’m still in the midst of their lives – when in fact, there are countless decisions – wonderful and terrible decisions - that have been made with exactly no input from me. It appears they have found ways to live among strangers who became friends and strangers who didn’t. I’m guessing they’ve laughed hard and maybe cried hard. They’ve argued and resolved arguments; they’ve forged ahead in some ways and remained stationary in others.

Coincidentally, I’ve spent the last year doing most of that, too. And the only stranger I’ve had to learn to live with was me. I’m no longer the mother of minors, and “responsible” for them in that capacity. I’m the mother of young adults, and we’ve moved beyond some of those “growing up” moments. I don’t listen to the school delays anymore. I don’t listen for car doors late at night.

But that begs the question: what do I listen for these days? That’s hard to say. The good news and the bad; the vague stories with no harm done that don’t get shared in very much detail for everyone’s sake. Phone talk is different than in-person talk but I try to listen “between” the words. The weariness in a voice; the exuberance of a story. The class stories, the dorm stories, the roommate stories. And as I listen, I want to ask: are you happy? Lonely? Frustrated? Tired? Confused? All the things that would be easier to see if I could see you. Everything that would be right there in your eyes if I could look into your eyes.
We don’t ask those things, though, right? “Hi, honey… what’s up? Are you okay?” That’s as close as we get. “Are you okay?”

That may be how I’ve changed. A few years ago, when I asked, “..you okay?” I meant just that. Nothing dramatic, nothing more than a simple question of attitude at that particular moment. We had day and nights, weeks and months to get into the details.

These days, “…you okay?” means “Please feel free to tell me everything. Or mostly everything. Or anything you think I can help you with. Or that will make me laugh or smile or even cry. Or anything you just want to get off your chest or say out loud and leave behind. I’ll try to listen carefully and answer you honestly and help you if I can.” This almost feels like the end of ‘The Princess Bride’ when we learn that the phrase “as you wish” really means “I love you.” “Are you okay?” really means, “I’m still here. Just like always. And listening even harder now.”

It's 'give your dog or cat a hug' day.

I am not - and have no plans to become - an attorney who specializes in First Amendment rights. I have no plans to join any law-making group in the foreseeable future. (I know - that's a relief to everyone reading this.)

But - here's the thing: wrapping yourself in the First Amendment to excuse behavior that society in general (and that's important,) deems unacceptable at best and corrupt and deviant in many cases, is unconscionable.

I realize you could line up ten people on any given issue and possibly get ten divergent views of a topic, an activity or a belief. But on some issues - oh, let's say dog fighting - the views might not be all that different. In fact, the Supreme Court's views were 8 - 1 about this particular case.

Maybe the Court strives to rule for the exceptions, those who push boundaries beyond which most of us would not go, in order to keep all of us free. Maybe. But this decision makes me feel like I need a shower.

I've linked to today's Daily Caller column. Would love to hear your thoughts: am I completely off base about this?

I had this wrong. Turns out, childbirth isn't painful; it's a pleasure. Yes, that kind.

Mothers and fathers to be: Don't go into the delivery room without reading this.

Actual parents: Remember your own delivery room experiences and enjoy.

Moms: Like me, you may have missed something. I'm still laughing about this.

Enjoy.

Radical. Well, that's one word for it.

Just in case it hasn't been obvious to date, my general outlook on things is pretty conventional. It must be the Capricorn in me.

But espousing any world view based on Astrology isn't exactly conventional thinking, right? Which is proof we are all many-layered people with any number of views.

Then again, I'm not sure I could ever embrace of the views depicted in Today's column. Different drum and all that aside, some on this just sounds crazy to me.

Enjoy.

Twist this.

From the “I almost can’t take this anymore” file, we have the following update, courtesy of Levine Breaking News, my absolute favorite daily news feed:

“Kate Gosselin is launching a series that will profile everyday women facing personal challenges "Twist of Kate" will follow the reality star and supermom as she visits the homes and workplaces of her subjects, where she will exchange insights for living. The 12-episode season will premiere in late summer, the TLC network said Thursday.”

First off, a reminder to those who haven’t read this fact previously. I’ve never once watched an episode of Jon and Kate + 8, the “reality” show that catapulted the couple and their many offspring into the national consciousness. But let’s assume for the sake of argument, that it was somehow entertaining and diverting. At the very least, it was a train wreck and many people couldn’t seem to turn away from it week after week.

Let’s also assume that Jon and Kate played their roles very well and the audience found ways to identify with them as characters, in roles, creating drama and tension. Let’s finally assume that the children – as close to voiceless victims as anyone could be – emerge from this bizarre chapter of their lives healthy and relatively unscathed as a result of their parents’ egos and pursuit of fame and fortune based on nothing more than fecundity and fertility drugs.

Kate has since moved on to another venue, a more glamorous train wreck called Dancing with the Stars. Once again, truth: I’ve never watched this, either. But my expert on the show – Howard Stern – tells me she comes off as rude and obnoxious. And that she can’t dance. What a surprise!

The question is: can’t she just go away now? Apparently not. Someone somewhere did a focus group or polling research or some reading of her Q rating and determined that a measurable and significant enough group in America was not yet finished following the adventures of Kate. Which brings us to TLC, which now stands for The Laughable Channel, because what they want us to learn is a joke, and their announcement of the new series.

If Kate is a supermom (hate that; it’s a meaningless term in every way), what the heck is she doing taping a new television show that has her visiting the homes and workplaces of women “facing personal challenges?” Why isn’t she home with her eight children? What on God’s green earth does she have to offer ‘women facing personal challenges’ in terms of brilliance? Oh, sorry – that’s not right. They’ll simply “exchange insights for living.”

Let’s pretend I’m a woman facing a personal challenge and Kate comes knocking on my door. Assuming I didn’t need or value her insights about life because I’m not also the mother of eight children including sextuplets or trapped in a loveless marriage because of a television production commitment, I’d like to imagine my side of the exchange would sound something like this:

“Kate, thanks for stopping by and bringing the entire “Twist of Kate” production crew into my living room; but I don’t know you. I never watched the show about your family and I’ve never watched you try to dance. I haven’t read even one article written about you, your ex-husband, or your children. I didn’t buy nor read your book and I haven’t tuned in to see you interviewed on any program. In other words, your notoriety alone is the one and only reason I have any idea at all who you are.

That said, you seem to think you can help me if we exchange insights for living. Super. Me first: Kindly leave. The day I believe - in even the most far-fetched, inscrutably infinitesimal way - that an ex-reality show “star” who basically exploited her children and private family life in exchange for fame and money could possibly have become elevated and enlightened to the point where she has something worthwhile to share with me about something as critical as "life challenges," based on nothing more than her kind of quasi-celebrity status is the day I take the tailpipe.”

This is what you might call full disclosure. Well, something's full, or looks full, or is spilling over because it's so full.

After years of suffering incredulity, sadness and brooding misery whenever I encountered them, I have to applaud that quintessential “just in case you don’t feel awful about yourself today, here we are, ready to help with that” company: Victoria’s Secret. As noted in previous posts and several newspaper columns, I am finally at peace with old Victoria. Why? The new ad campaign.

I can’t remember every detail. All I know is it promotes yet another new line of underwear called “The Nakeds.” There you go. Finally, the name of the product actually reflects the whole philosophy of the company. There’s never been another company that spent more time, energy, marketing savvy and advertising effort to sell garments that were designed specifically to spend as little time as possible on your body.

And God bless her, Victoria is always coming up with new lines, new approaches, new ways to sell products to women – and the men who love to love women – who want nothing more than to spend upwards of $80 on a fushia colored push-up bra they’ll wear semi-annually. Women who want even more colors and more choices of tiny little panties they’ll never wear on purpose unless everything else is in the laundry basket. Women who love looking at themselves sideways in the mirror to calculate exactly how much their stomachs don’t resemble the ones on the models in the commercials. Wait – you mean not everyone does that? Never mind.

But honestly, I love the idea of a whole collection called The Nakeds. I mean, you can’t call Victoria deceptive. Victoria’s Secret may want to but they can’t exactly sell you “naked” because that would mean a store full of empty hangars. But they can sell you a bra and panties called “The Nakeds” that seemingly will help you get naked, or want to get naked, or something similar in short order.

Maybe they’re really comfortable. Maybe they’re designed so well you feel naked wearing them. In fact, that seems to be the promise: “Bras and panties so light, so bare you’ll wonder if they’re even there.” They’re “smooth and seamless” under clothing. The woman on the home page of the website looks like she is enthralled – that’s one way to describe her expression - with the lightness of her garments.

So there you are. For just $42.50, you too can feel Naked, courtesy of Victoria. Don’t want to feel Naked? You can buy ”Second Skin.” Or something from a line called “Pout.” Or a weekend bralette. (Nope – don’t know what that means.) Or let’s just forget subtlety altogether and purchase something from the Very Sexy line.

I may have aged out of Victoria; I recognize that. All I know is that several years ago, the company reported that their best-selling undergarment was a plain, white bra. This news restored my faith in the good sense of women the world over. I like pretty and sexy and adorable as much as anyone but please. Buying underwear because its label reads “Very Sexy,” or “Second Skin” or “The Nakeds” may just make us look just a little pathetic, right?

It's good to be the Queen. Now go be your regal, wonderful self.

I'm thrilled to be able to use my small megaphone here to help spread the word about a new book I love.

Before sending you to the link, let me just add this: if you're a woman who smooths moisturizer over your skin every morning, staring at your neck as you do so, pulling back your face around your jawline to inspect the improvement, then contemplates wrestling on the Spanx in your drawer before settling for comfort instead, and wondering why you never once appreciated your 25-year-old body when you were in it 25 years ago, I salute you and send you a big, big blog hug.

If you're a man living with a woman who does some or all of the above fairly regularly, stop reading right now and go give her a real hug.

Enjoy.

Comedy is tragedy + time. Even just a few seconds.

Okay. This is about the funniest thing I ever encountered on the street in New York City. Thing is, whether you laugh or not tells you a little something about my sense of humor (and me a little about yours) but so be it. Here we go.

I’m walking from Borders Book Store in Columbus Circle toward Port Authority, straight down 8th Avenue at about 9:15 pm on Wednesday night. (Yes. I missed the 8:30 Bieber Bus and was stuck with the 10. Super.) The street, as always, is teeming with pedestrians and onlookers, some looking for something quite specific as it turns out.

In front of a store, I encountered a young man, apparently down on his luck, asking everyone who passed by for some spare change. That’s sad and troubling, but not all that uncommon in midtown, especially around Times Square. But here’s what struck me as unusual, and ultimately very, very funny. He shook his cup, and asked: “Spare some change so I can buy some Chinese food?”

I took a few steps past him and thought: Wait. Chinese food? So you could buy Chinese food? It’s not enough for him to ask, “Spare some change for dinner?” Or, “Spare some change so I can eat tonight?” Or even, “Spare some change (for reasons I won’t go into in great detail about right now?)”

Then again, you have to give him points for specificity. But if you’re going that far, go all the way: “Spare some change so I can buy some General Tso’s Chicken and an egg roll?” “Spare some change so I can get a plate of dim sum?”

What if I handed over my spare change and said, “I’m only giving this to you so you can go pick up a Gyro or a slice of pizza.” Would he hand it back?

Yes. I know. Being hungry and on the street isn’t funny but I’m so sorry; this is, right?

Not to mention, what I really wanted to say was, “Chinese food? Really? You’ll just be hungry again in an hour.”

Badumdum.

I tried. God knows I tried. Well, sort of.

In the spirit of journalistic honesty, I hopped online and attempted to read the healthcare bill. What follows is a very brief recap of my experience.

Enjoy.

I'm ethical. And I love London. So sue me.

Please review this list and get ready for today’s quiz:

Argentina

Belize

Chile

Ghana

Lithuania

Namibia

Poland

Seychelles

South Africa

Suriname

What do these ten places have in common? No, they’re not the latest countries to host American celebrities who are adopting children or the places bidding on the 2028 Olympics.

They are the developing world’s top ten ethical destinations in the world, according to Ethical Traveler. Wondering what the heck it means to be an ethical traveler? I was, too, so here you go, and it isn’t exactly intuitive. Forget about being polite, tipping appropriately and not taking the hotel shampoo. Ethical travel is mindful travel: an awareness of our impact and responsibilities as we explore the world. That certainly is mindful. Because I have to admit that when I think “vacation travel,” the words awareness, impact and responsibilities are almost never found among my “must haves” when choosing where to go and how to get there.

I get the feeling this makes me ‘the ugly American.’ The kind of person who runs around the globe, wreaking havoc and ignoring the cultural differences that exist from place to place and nationality to nationality. The kind of person who tries to find a McDonald’s in Rome or visits Eurodisney.

Not true. But it feels true.

Let’s get back to the list. How is the list determined? Three general categories get considered and scored: environmental protection, social welfare and human rights. If that sounds kind of dry and almost grim, that’s because it is. The list also considers more light-hearted categories like experiencing nature, and interacting with “local people and cultures in a meaningful mutually enlightening way.”

For God’s sake. Let’s consider just a couple of things here, okay? If you’re planning trips to Seychelles or Namibia or Suriname or Ghana, you’re a traveler. Developing nations don’t generally attract novice travelers. If you fly to Lithuania, it’s probably because you’ve already visited Sweden and Germany. If you land in the Seychelles, you’ve already been to Madagascar, Kenya and Mozambique.

You starting to see a pattern here?

Let’s also consider this. Because of the land mass and other considerations, about 90% of the earth’s population lives in the northern hemisphere. Ninety percent! And even that 90% is concentrated in about 20% of the earth’s land mass. Can we agree that most travelers flying to at least half of these locations (found in the southern hemisphere) will leave quite a significant carbon footprint?

I hate the sanctimonious nature of lists like this. You like to travel but enjoy such pedestrian destinations as Western Europe, the Caribbean or Asia? Poor, unenlightened you. Your ethics are obviously lacking.

Then again, even this year’s report acknowledges some anomalies and seems to look the other way under certain circumstances. In Belize, Seychelles and Namibia, homosexuality is a crime, although it’s not “zealously enforced.” South Africa has a wide gap of rich vs. poor and a high crime rate. And some of last year’s most ethical destinations have been removed from the list entirely because they are leading the world in sex tourism or in trafficking children in to the sex trade: Costa Rica, Bolivia and Bulgaria. Nicaragua was removed because of fraudulent elections and both Croatia and Estonia basically outgrew the list by virtue of their economic success and classification as High Income Economies.

So in 2008, Costa Rica was on the list and travel there was encouraged. Now it's off because it rivals only Thailand and the Phillippines when it comes to prostitution and sex trade. Did this happen in basically two years? Really? That’s quite an accomplishment.

This is why lists like this are specious and pointless. How about this instead? Travel honestly. Don’t make a mess or cause any mayhem. Obey the rules. Respect the people around you, their surroundings and their traditions while you’re in their midst. Be kind. Don’t be judgmental while visiting another culture. There. My suggested rules around ethical travel. So go where you will - that’s entirely up to you - and enjoy.

Okay. Sometimes you can make this stuff up.

And I have the post to prove it, considering this post. I wrote it ages ago. If you want, take a look and then come back for the latest.

So today, I'm on my favorite homepage - MSN - and what do I see but a story about Demi Moore, and her latest "news."

For God's sake. It's not enough that she and her ilk inflicted the entire idea of "cougars" on us, and that a network produces a television show about older women and younger men. She's not satisfied that a dating service called Cougarlife.com exists only to create older woman / younger man couples, if only for a night or two. Now that the word has become part of the early 21st century lexicon, in no small way due to Demi's antics, she now labels 'cougar' a distasteful term. (Demi Moore determining what is or isn't distasteful is kind of funny if you think about it.)

May I ask why? Maybe it's because when she was the only one out there - the only older woman from a certain generation of Hollywood leading ladies that had attached herself to a younger husband - that being identified as a cougar was fun and unique. Maybe she doesn't want to belong to a club that would have her, although in this case she was not only the Founder and President, she was the Senior Publicist.

That's all in the past. Now she's a self-identified Puma. How sweet. I want to know the difference between a Puma and a Cougar, other than Demi's dismissal of the latter. Maybe Pumas are snobs? That may have first welcomed others like them but now look down on the cougars that surround them? Perhaps they pretend to be part of a group and then when too many others join they break off into their own new, better, more exclusive group.

God knows. If anyone finds any of the details surrounding this very vital differentiation, I'd be delighted if you'd share them here. Otherwise I'll be forced to imagine more of them. And not one bit of it will flatter any member of the feline family.

Isn't just being invited exciting enough?

At the risk of offending readers' sensitivity, I offer today's Daily Caller column.

Suffice it to say, I would have thought that most men would be delighted just to be asked to the party, so to speak. I'm positive not one of them would complain or be disappointed about the lack of decorations they found upon arrival, if you see what I mean.

A new low in self-esteem has been reached. Who could have imagined it would be so sparkly?

What passes for integrity in Georgia these days?

Many years ago, before we had children, I used to accompany my husband on a golf outing once a year. No, we weren’t golfers – at least, I wasn’t. Our trips were work-related. He spent several years working as a videographer for a number of clients, attending PGA tour events annually from April to August.

Because of a personal friendship with one tournament’s producer, I was invited to accompany my husband to that particular event every spring. While my husband worked as a cameraman, following specific golfers around the course, or shooting every stroke on specific fairways or greens, I held such important jobs as labeling videotapes and driving the cart. Clearly, not exactly something that needed my personal touch but it did give me the opportunity to spend a long weekend on a gorgeous course and watch some great golfers once a year.

I remember one specific exchange that happened on the course one year, and in light of Mr. Woods’ return to Augusta next month, I think it bears some contemplation. As I sat down – inside the rope line, mind you, courtesy of my “press” credentials – I slipped off my sandals to revel in the gorgeous spring weather and feel the soft, warm grass under my feet. No sooner had I touched a baby toe onto the carpet that covers a golf course when one of the “officials” stepped over to me and quietly requested that I slip my feet back into my sandals and keep them there, thank you very much.

Because of the horrified look on his face, I have to assume that sitting barefoot on a golf course – especially during a PGA event - was simply not done by anyone with any sense of decorum. It wasn’t appropriate or accepted behavior. It wasn’t polite or properly respectful of the course and the people surrounding me. This wasn’t a weekend at the beach, for God’s sake. This was the PGA! Have some pride, woman! A little dignity!

Now, I’m well aware that a bare foot on a tournament observer, even if she is “working” at the event, is a far cry from shocking behavior but it sure felt like it was. And as I said, I can’t help but remember this feeling of humiliation as Mr. Woods is about to step foot onto Augusta National Golf Course and claim his place back on the tour. Sure, he’ll be wearing shoes but what about everything else he did to sully the dignity of the game?

My husband tells me my logic is flawed here. Whatever Woods did – he did off the course. He didn’t exactly debauch Magnolia Lane or the Amen Corner. Had he done so, tournament officials – even the PGA itself – may have been well within their rights to request that he remove himself from their event, even if only for a probationary period. Plus, he’s not exactly the first pro-golfer who turned out to be a cheating scumbag, despite a pristine reputation.

But my contention is that at this point in Woods’ career, it’s difficult to separate the professional golfer from the very highly compensated spokesperson he became as a result of his athletic prowess. From the admirable, upstanding family man he conjured up for the viewing public, which is about as far from reality as you could get with this guy.

So the question is: if a prominent person acts in a way that is morally questionable (at best) in personal life, must they somehow make up for that behavior by bowing out of the public life that helped them achieve their prominence? Depends on the person, I guess. And the act. Elliott Spitzer resigned his governorship. John Edwards withdrew from political life. Senator John Ensign resigned his committee leadership after admitting an affair with a campaign worker. Governor Jim McGreevey resigned after admitting his sexual orientation and his affair. ESPN fired commentator Steve Phillips following his disclosure of an affair with a younger co-worker.

On the other hand, Letterman is still behind his desk. Mark Sanford is governing South Carolina. Bill Clinton never resigned for God’s sake after having an extra-marital affair in the workplace, aka The Oval Office, with a much younger associate.

Maybe none of this would bother me so much if I didn’t remember the look on that guy’s face when he more or less asked me to behave myself and cover my bare feet. If golf is so pure; if it’s so respectable and mannerly and played by gentlemen, how could it ignore Tiger Woods' cheating? Why is it so easy to separate the athlete from his actions?

According to the PGA website, it makes enormous sense for Woods to rejoin the tour in Augusta. The Masters Tournament is among the most restricted sporting events in the world. “Media credentials are limited even in normal circumstances, and the club has tight control over who gets in. Some fans with season badges risk losing them forever for violating rules, such as being caught with a cell phone or a camera. Among the rules: No running.

Most players expect Woods to be heckled, although not as much -- if any -- at the Masters.

"That's why Augusta makes such good sense…There's less of that than anywhere else. Everyone is afraid to lose their ticket. The etiquette and behavior is far better than anywhere else because of the fear factor."

Legendary Augusta stories abound, including the (possibly exaggerated) one about sportscaster Jack Whitaker referring to the Augusta fans as a “mob” and subsequently being asked to remove himself from the proceedings by club president Clifford Roberts. Augusta National and the Master's Tournament refused television sponsors for more than two years after the national outcry about having no women among their members. Says a little something about the club's ability to finance a network broadcast from its own resources.

Augusta can be prickly but it seems to be consistently prickly. If anyone in the world of professional golf had had the guts to shun Woods and make a statement about honor and integrity, it would have been Augusta National. But they didn’t. And that’s just a little disappointing.