The rest of the world likely doesn't care too much, but for Cuban exiles (and their blogging children stuck in the Great White North), the news of Fidel's transfer of power to his little brother, the spry Raul Castro (a mere 75 years young), is cause for celebration. Miami is on the verge of declaring a holiday. Sure, the transfer happened on Monday night, but that's Cuban Time for you. I shouldn't have to explain it again.

Can you imagine the party when The Beard finally cashes in (if he hasn't already)? The following events could all happen in the same year and the celebrations would pale in comparison the No More Fidel Fiesta on Calle Ocho:

• The Miami Dolphins win the Super Bowl.
• The Miami Heat win the NBA Championship.
• The Florida Marlins win the World Series.
• The Florida Panthers win the Stanley Cup.
• The state of Florida learns to vote.
• Peace is declared in the Middle East when all the countries agree to settle their differences on a shuffleboard court in Boca Raton.
• An anti-hurricane device is invented.
• Paris Hilton trips in a trendy nightclub while dancing on the bar and falls into the liquor bottles causing damage that's not enough not to kill her, but enough to disfigure her such that she never shows her face in public again.
• All retirees in Florida become good drivers.

Put all of that together and still it's not going to be as exciting as The Beard Has Been Shaved Day. If we're lucky, that'll be any day now. In just ten days, Fidel turns 80. I'm counting on you santeros to make sure that scraggly bastard doesn't see the big eight-oh. Don't let me down, or else I'll put a curse on you.

Just kidding! (Please don't hex me.)

Don't get too excited and target the wrong beard.

Today is "Poached" Day! If you were outside for more than 5 minutes, then today is your day.

The NSA's list even introduces some new levels of granularity that Santa can use in determining how much coal is to be left in a stocking or how much cyanide to stealthily pour into morning coffee. The two traditional extremes, Naughty and Nice, still exist, of course. However, now there's also Evildoer, Suspected Evildoer, Probability Greater Than Zero Evildoer, Evildoer's Friend, Evildoer's Mailman, Evildoer's Second Cousin's Roommate's Long-Lost Pre-School Classmate, Probably Not An Evildoer But Let's Check Anyway, and American. This may seem like it introduces a lot of complexity back at the North Pole, but Santa gets the NSA's list with the aforementioned coal and/or cyanide recommendations already done for him. On with the elf flogging!

Speaking of elves, those little folks reproduce at a rate that makes even rabbits say "take a break!" Santa Corp. can't possibly feed, train, and employ the booming elf population on its own, and so the NSA comes to the rescue once again. That cushy list-creating contract has created many employment opportunities for the agency, and elves help fill those those roles economically since they're paid in marshmallows. It actually works out quite well, marshmallow paychecks aside. Who better to poison coffee than a two foot tall nimble being with super-sensitive hearing, cat-like night vision, and peppermint flatulence? Plus, the elf-spies love the gig since they're not forced to wear bells on the tips of their curly shoes. It's a win-win situation -- if you're part of the NSA or a Christmas elf.

The rest of us, however, should take care when calling our grandmas to tell her that her oatmeal cookies are "the bomb" and that they "hijacked our tastebuds", lest our coffee taste a little funny the next morning.

Our attempts at infiltrating Elf-Spy Training School were quickly foiled.

Today is "Long Distance House Call" Day! See if you can convince a doctor to fly 1,200 miles today.

First, I need to mention that I'm not talking about a computer mouse with a bunch of dirty needles attached to the buttons. As fun as that sounds, that product has been on the market for three years and is used exclusively for treating those with a computer addiction or for those who visit S&M websites. Sure, I happen to own one of these mice, but I won't reveal for which of those two reasons.

Back to the topic at hand, the diseased mice in question now being sold are the real live kind. Rodents, if you will. Apparently, the healthy mouse market has teetered off so business-folk have turned to the next logical area, which is, of course, diseased rodents. Peruse, at your leisure, the following from CNN.com:

Mighty mice for sale -- mighty expensive at least

A mouse with arthritis runs close to $200; two pairs of epileptic mice can cost 10 times that. You want three blind mice? That'll run you about $250. And for your own custom mouse, with the genetic modification of your choosing, expect to pay as much as $100,000.

At first you may think, "$100,000 for a custom mouse! That's crazy!" Crazy like a diseased mouse! But I think there are some mouse modifications that could be worth that much. Hell, I'd pay twice the price for some of these.

• Invisibility -- But I'd need a way of knowing that I wasn't just sent an empty box.
• Tourette's Syndrome -- $100k for a mouse with a mouth like a sailor? Okay!
• Functional Gills -- That would really freak my fish out!
• Tap Dancing Skills -- Four legs all tap-tap-tapping furiously. Shweet!
• Alcohol Immunity -- It could be my designated driver. Oh wait, first...
• The Ability to Drive -- Okay, now it could be my designated driver.

By the way, you can really see economies of scale in practice if you would like a bigger rodent with all of the above non-custom mentioned maladies and more. For the price of a plane ticket to New York City, you can find one of these whiskered gold mines in NYCs own "mines", the subway system. If you see something slightly larger than a cat scurrying by, grab it! There's a 98% chance it's your dream diseased product.

As for NYC residents, you folks really are sitting on a fantastic business opportunity. You just pay the subway fare once, load up on whiskered gold mines and sell them on the internet for $50 less than the plane ticket. You'll clean up! eBay anyone? As of this writing, no auction listings exist for "diseased rodent" nor "whiskered gold mine". Now's your chance!

Gene Simmons's custom dog-mouse.

Today is "St. Eatlotsofmeat" Day, but only if tomorrow is "St. Mandatoryfishfry" Day for you.

Please keep those folks in your hearts, thoughts, prayers, fortune cookies, etc.

Click away...
American Red Cross (ResellerRatings Donation Match)
Salvation Army
Habitat for Humanity

Food for the Hungry
Feed the Children
Save the Children

America's Second Harvest
American Friends Service Committee
AmeriCares

Baton Rouge Area Foundation
Mercy Corps
Noah's Wish

Operation USA
Samaritan's Purse
World Relief

Today is "Labor Day!" Have a nice one!

My car, unfortunately, isn't quite so lucky. That's one reason why I've been neglecting it the last couple of days. Another reason is because the weather hasn't quite been of the "sulfur and brimstone" variety recently. I walked to work yesterday and this afternoon I rode my house-puma to the supermarket. All he (the puma) requires is seven pounds of kibble and a whole chicken per day and he's good for at least a few hundred miles. That may sound expensive, but it tallies up to a mere $12 a day. That's what a pint of gas costs up here!

Okay, there may have been some hyperbole in the previous paragraph. I either exaggerated the price of gas or the price of feeding Pancho (the aforementioned puma), but not both.

The cost of automated transportation is getting pretty out of hand. I just saw on the news that NYC taxis are thinking about throwing an additional $1.50 or more surcharge on all fares to cover the rising gas prices. It's a good thing, too, because apparently people in NYC were living too richly and eating warm meals five times a week. Oh, the opulence!

Other public transportation in other cities can't be far behind. Taking a bus downtown? That'll be $10! This is a good time to be a student in a college where tuition also pays for unlimited public transportation. I think CMU (speaking of sulfur and brimstone) instituted that policy in my sophomore year. They were never very attentive to their students' needs. I had high-speed internet from day one, sure, but I only enjoyed the "bonus" of hot water in my final semester. Hyperbole again? Nope!

Well, the weekend is upon us, and a long weekend at that. Enjoy it! It's Labor Day on Monday, and if I blog, then at least the "Today is" part's already done. But no guarantees! Until then, I'll be stuck at home watching "Night Court" and playing XBox. Hmm... that's doesn't sound too bad, actually.

You'd think it couldn't get any worse.
You'd be wrong, Colonel Sanders.

Today is "Chair-Sitters" Day! If you sit on a chair at work, live it up! But do it sitting down.

FBI Agents' 'Wedding' Is a Bust for Guests
By Josh Meyer
Times Staff Writer
Posted August 23 2005

WASHINGTON - After their wedding guests had streamed into Atlantic City, N.J., for the festivities Sunday aboard the yacht Royal Charm, the happy couple surprised them all - by having them arrested as part of an alleged international Asia-based organized crime syndicate.

Unbeknown to the attendees, many of whom came from China for the occasion, the supposed bride and groom were FBI agents. The government said Monday that the pair had spent four years investigating a sophisticated racketeering enterprise suspected of smuggling into the United States vast quantities of black-market cigarettes, high-tech weapons, Ecstasy, counterfeit Viagra and virtually undetectable counterfeit $100 bills.

A few thoughts occured to me when I read this:

• The "reality TV disease" has spread to Hollywood and blurred the line between films and life, kind of like The Last Action Hero but not "bite your arm off at the shoulder" bad.
• Josh Meyer must have been drunk, rented Donnie Brasco and The Wedding Singer, and then written this article.
• I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
• I don't think Paddy O'Wife has Irish Mafia ties because we didn't get any thick envelopes full of hundred dollar bills and shamrocks. O'bummer.
• If I ever had even the slimmest chance of going to Harvard, it's gone now.

Apparently some of the Chinese mob's activities were bootlegging pirated movies. Did they bother watching the camcorder-recorded version of Donnie Brasco? It's all right there! You know that guy that looks like Edward Scissorhands? He's a fed!!

I know the quintessential downfall of drug dealers is that they dip too much into their own stash, but I don't think that applies to movie bootlegs. I doubt it would ruin a criminal empire to pop a CD-R into your Fony Vaio laptop once in a while. They should do it just as a matter of quality-control -- if the copy is too nice, then tack another $0.50 onto the price before it hits Canal Street.

Or maybe they did see Donnie Brasco, but they just forgot about it.

"Forget about it" is like if you agree with someone, you know, like "Raquel Welsh is one great piece of ass, forget about it." But then, if you disagree, like "A Lincoln is better than a Cadillac? Forget about it!" you know? But then, it's also like if something's the greatest thing in the world, like "Mingia those peppers, forget about it." But it's also like saying "Go to hell!" too. Like, you know, like "Hey Paulie, you got a one inch pecker?" and Paulie says "Forget about it!" Sometimes it just means forget about it.

They registered for the red Cuisinart instead of the white!?
Forget about it!

Today is "Onomatopoeia" Day! It's sponsored by Rice Krispies' troublesome trio.

What .. the ... hell ... !?

If you broached the subject of "final arrangments" with me anytime since 1999, you'd know that my wishes are simple and original: I want to be shot out of a potato cannon. In the past year I ammended these wishes to allow the possibility for me to be cremated first and then put into some Tupperware before being shot out of the aforementioned potato cannon. Strange? Yup. Original? I thought so. Still possible? No.

My whole potato cannon idea was like a backup plan for fame. If I'm not world-renowned by the time I cash in, then at least I could have been "that crazy guy who had his remains shot out of a potato cannon." But now people would write me off as "that crazy guy who tried to something like legendary gonzo journalist and author Hunter S. Thompson did at his 'burial'". The optimist in me might think that people would see a potato cannon and fireworks as sufficiently far-enough removed. However, the realist in me thinks, "Great, I need a new burial plan."

I think Hunter S. Thompson could have given me this one. He was, afterall, already a legendary gonzo journalist and author. He didn't need to add "had his remains shot into the air" to his repertoire. At the moment, all I have is "gets an average of twelve readers a day on his blog." That's not even good enough for a filler-mention on the local Poughkeepsie, NY news. But the potato cannon? That would have been a full 60-second intern's segment. Maybe even 90-second! Alas...

Well, Thompson, you've won this one. Enjoy it, you admirably-crazy loon.

Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men's reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of ''the rat race'' is not yet final.
--Hunter S. Thompson (1937 - 2005)

THWUMP!

Today is "Like A Record" Day! So spin right 'round, baby, right 'round.

From Yahoo! News:

Goat crowned King of Ireland at ancient festival
By Kevin Smith
Wed Aug 10, 4:00 PM ET

DUBLIN (Reuters) - A wild mountain goat was crowned King of Ireland on Wednesday in an ancient annual ritual whose origins are lost in the mists of history.

For three days, Charlie, a grey male goat with brown trimmings, will reign over this year's Puck Fair -- one of Ireland's oldest and best-loved street festivals -- in Killorglin, in the southwestern county of Kerry.

"Nobody really knows how it came about or when," said Jean Kearney, a spokeswoman for the festival, which is expected this year to attract more than 100,000 visitors for a marathon of music, drinking and dancing.

"It has been traced back to the 1600s, but some say it dates back to a festival held in pagan times."

One theory is that the event pays tribute to a wild goat that alerted the town to the advancing armies of military leader Oliver Cromwell in the 17th century.

Another is that it stems from the pagan Celtic festival of Lughnasa, when feasting and sacrifices marked the start of the harvest season, and that the goat is a pagan fertility symbol.

"For the people round here it's no exaggeration to say the Puck Fair is almost as important as Christmas," Kearney said.

"It attracts thousands of tourists but it's also a huge homecoming for Kerry people who have moved away. The atmosphere is just magical."

Charlie, or King Puck to give him his official title, will later be raised up on an elevated platform in the centre of the town square where, from a height of 50 feet (15 metres), he will look down on his loyal subjects for the duration of the fair.

On Friday he will relinquish his gold crown and return to the mountains of Kerry where he was captured last week by local man Frank Joy -- chief goat catcher for the past 15 years.

The festival, which also includes a traditional horse fair, open-air concerts, and firework displays, is expected to generate around 7 million euros (4.8 million pounds) for the local economy.

Silent Bob needs to get back to writing movies.

Today is "Barbecue" Day! Not BBQ. Not Bar-B-Q. Barbecue, damnit.

DORITO BANDITO

Right next to the headline was a picture of Saddam Hussein and a bag of a Doritos. It seems that ol' Crazy Beard 2 loves his Doritos. Can you blame him? Doritos are awesome! Even those gross-looking green guacamole ones are good, and I'm not just saying that because you insist that I'm Mexican. If I was an elderly, deposed despot (Mexican or otherwise) serving time in an international jail and had one comfort granted to me, I think I might just opt for a neverending supply of Doritos. Think about it -- it's not so bad having time to reflect on your past while crunching away on crisp, flavorful tortilla chips.

(crunch) I remember that time I invaded a smaller, (crunch) weaker (crunch) country to take their oil. (crunch) That was (crunch) fun. (crunch) Illegal, sure, but (crunch) my friends and I (crunch) got rich. (crunch) Damn, these Doritos (crunch crunch) are good!

POP QUIZ: The above inner-monologue belonged to:

1. Saddam "Idaho SCUDs" Hussein
2. George W. "Iraq and I Roll" Bush
3. All "of the" Above

I used to think that the only people who didn't like Doritos were insane, murderous dictators and Toucan Sam. It seems that I was only half right.

Contrary to what you may be thinking, this entry was not sponsored by the good folks at Frito-Lay, makers of Doritos. I will, however, gladly take payment from them in the form of -- you guessed it -- cold, hard cash.

In summary...
Saddam Hussein: love Doritos, hates Froot Loops.
Toucan Sam: hates Doritos, loves Froot Loops.

Toucan Sam's a punk! Doritos 4 LIFE!

Today is "Vampire Buffet" Day Night! Give blood, get a lollipop. POP!

Come to think of it, where is Tom Cruise? Probably off somewhere listening to the continual cracking of his fragile psyche while Katie Holmes watches in terror from the chair Tom has tied her to. It's not a pretty picture, but it's probably not terribly inaccurate, either.

Elsewhere in the news, the runaway bride is now the rich runaway bride. Rumor has it she got a half-mil for her Couric interview and a half-mil for selling the rights to her "adventure" to a media company. Meanwhile, the police recovered about one third of the expense they spent playing Hide 'N Seek with her. And the folks in her hometown who volunteered their time searching for clues got a big F and a big U. They don't even get the rest of the letters. How generous of the bug-eyed psycho.

Here's a joke: What do you get when you cross a goat and a sheep? GEEP!

No, that wasn't incredibly laughable. But that's because I gave Letterman my best material.

Tom Cruise's favorite chair,
which Katie Holmes is tied to.

Today is "4WD" Day! If you have four white doves, set them free at midnight!