Good news, Steve: you now have something in common with arch-feminist Naomi Wolf. Apparently, her mailman hates her too! (But clearly not as much as Wolf hates some of us!)

Lots of political mail arriving at Berea-Rose lately, which is fun to survey. Just about all of it from the Ohio Dems. Fascinating stuff. They must have a mole working in their offices because every giant postcard they send makes me more solidly against them. And when the last one arrived, I quickly read its large-print scream about energy policy and actually thought it was delivering a pro-drilling message.

"Ah," thought. "Finally some GOP mail."

But then I read closer and it said it wanted to achieve energy independence by taxing U.S. oil companies and not drilling. Which seemed counterintuitive, to say the least. I checked the fine print. Yep, another Dem mailer.

I have also been tracking, from afar, the slow-motion implosion of my beloved N.Y. Mets. I haven't seen a game on TV since I was at Guido's a couple of weeks ago; it is now looking quite possible that I shan't see another Met game until next season. And hell, even if they do get into the playoffs, I will likely only be able to watch the first few innings of the games -- staying up past midnight just ain't working anymore.

Oh well, I suppose it's time to focus on football anyway. Around here, people are insane with the sport. Which I suppose makes sense since the Browns appear to be awful enough to drive any fan crazy. I haven't watched any games myself so far this season, which leaves me with very little to talk about when the locals gather to talk about what's on their minds.

Margo and Jenia steamed up to Jacksonville last night to entertain Alane, stuck as she is at work-related meetings. I understand everyone in Jacksonville is named "Jackson." I dared Elna to turn from the phone and call out "Hey, Jackson!" to people walking by to see how many turned to answer. She seemed to think I was joking.