"An event with a one-in-a-million chance of happening to any American on any given day will, in fact, occur 260 times each day in this country."

- Mathematician John Allen Paulos in today's New York Times

 

     My school teachers taught me from a very young age that the excitement never ends when one lives in Ohio.  
     Here are just a few of the many recent confirmations of this fact.
 

     "Someone's just shot through my front window!"

     That's what our neighbor across the street told us on the phone about 5 pm Saturday.  By the time my wife and I had slipped into our "Going To A Shooting" clothes and made it over there, two separate squad cars had disgorged two separate law enforcement officers.  Together with our neighbors to our east, we all proceeded to investigate the situation exactly as we'd learned to do on TV.
     First focus: The large picture window in the front center of the house.  
     Second focus: The roundish hole, about an inch in diameter, which was clearly visible near the picture window's left-right center and perhaps 10" down from the top.  
     Third focus: Four or so long cracks radiating from the hole - clearly not a manufacturing error, since they seemed closely related to the hole itself.
     Our neighbor told us she'd been sitting in her living room when she'd heard a loud noise and then discovered the hole.  We had no reason to doubt her story despite the lack of witnesses.  She did not appear to have been drinking.  She is not given to epileptic fits.
     Closer investigation revealed that her picture window actually had two panes of glass: A main inner pane, and an outer storm window.  
     Only the outer pane had a hole.  
     Only a few scratches were apparent on the main pane, opposite the hole.
     Only bits of glass and a shriveled up dead spider could be seen on the sill between the two panes.
     After a half hour of meticulous examination and mulling, we came as one to a single conclusion:
     We had no idea what had made the hole.
     A bullet would've gone through both panes.  A BB would have made a different kind of hole.  A bird would have left blood or feathers behind, if not its dead body.  The spider wasn't packing heat. 
     I did discover an oblong rock in the yard, maybe 1.5" long, maybe 10' away from the glass.  A line drawn between it and the hole would have formed perhaps a 25 degree angle.  
     Had a passing truck kicked it up?  A boy with a slingshot?  Was it the remnants of a meteorite?
     But the house was a good 50' from the road...  It was hard to imagine a boy being so brazen as to use a slingshot near a busy road at 5 on a Saturday afternoon...  and meteorites always glow after landing, then crack open to reveal world-devouring aliens....
     My best guess: A violent matter/anti-matter collision at the sub-atomic level.
     Official police conclusion:  "Gee, lady - we have no idea."
     Now, which alternative do you think most viewers of "Unsolved Mysteries" would find more satisfying?
 

     "And do you consider yourself white, black, or other?"

     Last night - also about 5 pm (cue that old "Twilight Zone" theme) - I got another call.  
     From a woman in Florida this time.  
     After asking me a series of increasingly personal questions culminating in the cringe-inducing one quoted above, she asked me to keep a special personal diary for her.  I said I would, since she only asked me to do it for a week, she had a sexy voice, and I just might change American pop culture in the process.
     Thus did I agree to become a Nielsen family.
     Yes, for the last week of the critical November sweeps period, I'll be keeping meticulous track of my TV viewing habits.
     Or, in other words, I'll be watching lots of "Masterpiece Theatre" and skipping the Flintstones marathon just to increase my admittedly abysmal chances of scoring with women in Florida.
     Or do Florida women prefer men addicted to the Lifetime channel?
     Anyone with any information that might help me out here, please let me know.  I just might be persuaded to boost the ratings of your favorite show in exchange.
 

     "Don't forget to turn your clocks back one full hour before going to bed tonight!"

     Somehow between matter/anti-matter explosions and agreeing to change the face of American TV, I found the time to once again engage in one of the most physically demanding activities of my year: Changing the clocks in observation of the end of Daylight Savings Time.  I sure wish they'd come up with an easier way to observe this occasion, like wearing funny hats and eating chocolate (or other things I do, anyway), but no - they demand that I actually and physically turn all my clocks back.  
     Turning them forward an hour in the spring is as nothing compared to having to turn them back in the fall.  For one thing, it goes against nature.  For another, I tend not to want to stop.  I always end up turning my clocks back a full 25 hours, and the powers that be are apparently too incompetent to tell the difference.  As much as this undermines my faith in their ability to lead us into a better future, it's a wonder I don't turn my clocks back even further.
     The fact that I have to deal with no fewer than 22 time-keeping devices may have something to do with it.
     Is that above average?  How many do most people have to deal with?
     I have 2 in the bathroom (an analog clock on the wall and a digital clock radio in the commode), 3 in the bedroom (another clock radio, a separate digital alarm, and one in the TV), 2 on the front porch (a wall clock and a timer on a lamp), 2 in the living room (wall clock and VCR - not to mention one in the cable box, which the cable company automatically messes up for me), 3 in the kitchen (clock radio, wall clock, light timer), 2 in my wife's office (desk clock, answering machine), 1 in my office (wall), 2 in the laundry room (both wall clocks - I don't know why, since it's Jester's room and he apparently can't read either), 1 in the basement, 1 in the garage, 1 in the car, and 2 wristwatches (one for inside, one for when I'm in the yard).
     The two office computers take care of themselves, as does the garden sundial (though the latter now seems a few seconds off).  
     It used to be worse.  I used to have a row of 6 red clocks along the top of a wall in my office with labels underneath, just like the WJM newsroom on "The Mary Tyler Moore Show."  Only instead of the labels listing various world cities, mine listed "Living Room" and "Patio" and "Basement" and "Closet" and so on.  All 6 clocks displayed exactly the same time.
     No one got the joke, so I took them down.
     Every time I look up and see the 6 nail holes they left behind, I kick myself for not just changing the type of people I invite into my office instead....

     
     "Is that 'Birtcher' with a 'V'?"

     Today is election day.  I've already voted.  Because my wife won't be home until late, we got up early and voted before 7 am.  
     Amazing.  They won't let you vote if you're falling down drunk, but if you're sleepwalking, no problem.
     Democracy - ya gotta love it.
     Do you think if they let us vote falling down drunk, turnout would increase?
     Drunk or sleepwalking, in my case it doesn't matter.  I just apply my usual rules every time.  Doing so helps me save my thinking for good.  Who knows - maybe it'll be worth something someday.
     The rules I use are simple:  1) If someone is running unopposed, leave the space blank in protest; 2) If someone is running against someone else, always vote for the person with the shorter name - it'll make the local newscasts go faster, and save on newspaper ink; 3) If there's a tax levy, always vote for it - the government always needs a new fire truck or a new school building more than I need another bag of potato chips or video game; 4) Vote for and against amendments to the state constitution at random, then laugh at all those smart experts who appear the next day to explain the "deep reasons" behind my vote.
     Oh, and one more that I'll call 0) since it comes before all these others: Always tell the poll worker that they're mispronouncing your name when they ask you to sign in.  Today, I decided "Birtcher" should be pronounced "Vagner" just to make things interesting.  It's a pretty unimaginative person who always demands that his or her name be pronounced the same way, after all, and it helps to tell which poll workers are drunk and which are merely sleepwalking, too.

     That's all for now, but I'm sure more excitement lurks right around the corner.
     I mean, the day is young and this - this is Ohio!