ST. PAUL -- Here in Minnesota, our governor has gone under cover, so far as we can figure out. The governor — who I will refer to as Larry so as to throw terrorists off the trail — had a fit in New York recently when he flew there for a photo op at Ground Zero, a trip paid for by ABC-TV, which then got exclusive rights to film the governor's grief and concern. When a few Minnesota reporters questioned him on these arrangements, Larry said he would never speak to any of them ever again. Later, he amended this to say that he would speak to some of them but never with tape recorders present.

Then Larry announced that his schedule of public appearances would be kept secret because he — along with the Mall of America and the Humphrey Metrodome and perhaps the statue of Paul Bunyan in Bemidji and the famous Lift Bridge in Duluth — might be high on the terrorists' list of targets.

Now he has amended that to say that his press secretary will inform some of the press of what the governor is doing, but this information cannot be disseminated to the general public. The governor thus achieves four public announcements in less than a week without ever having actually done something.

The stealth governor is an innovation in politics, and Larry is the one who can make it work. He was elected to the post, after a career as a pro rassler, because he spoke plainly and plenty of people are tired of the political boilerplate. His slogan was "Retaliate in '98," which seemed to promise something new. Since his election, however, he has taken a sharp right turn away from all that and become a pretty good, quiet caretaker governor. At hands-off governance, Larry is as capable as you or I.

The problem with being a caretaker is that you have very little to show for it, no large ideas to proclaim, no triumphs to celebrate, no ribbons to cut. You're just a guy sitting in a boat in calm water and not tipping it over. After a while, people's attention wanders.

Disappearance is a great way to attract attention, to become the Garbo of governors, the Pynchon politician.

It is no great thing to stand in the governor's reception room at the state Capitol and shake hands with a delegation of 4-H'ers from Kandiyohi County. It raises the occasion to a heroic level to welcome them secretly, with the governor surrounded by highway patrolmen ready to search the 4-H'ers for pitchforks. Thus does a Midwestern governor of modest talent become part of America's war against terrorism.

Before Larry, governors of Minnesota didn't bother with security. They traveled around in a midsize car, accompanied by some young staff person to spare the Honorable the embarrassment of having to drive around and around looking for a parking space. A governor used to be a guy you'd see at University of Minnesota basketball games and walk up and say "hi" to at halftime.

When Larry ascended into office, he demanded a security detail, with round-the-clock service. And now he has introduced the idea of semi-secret public appearances. Occasionally he may show up somewhere, but suddenly, like the Masked Man of the Plains.

The logical next step for him is to leave town for the duration of the war and not tell anybody. Perhaps he already has. Perhaps Larry even now is hunkered deep in a Minuteman silo in North Dakota, sitting at a control console in front of an electronic map of all 87 counties of Minnesota, running state government via a secure telephone, secret couriers disguised as seed salesmen bringing him state papers concealed in burlap bags. We do not know.

While he's there, he could let his hair grow back and lose a few pounds so as to lessen his visibility and be able to return home for the holidays. I wish I knew where he is so I could tell him.

Garrison Keillor is host of "Prairie Home Companion" and author, most recently, of "Lake Wobegon Summer 1956."

My long passed-away grandfather's birthday is coming up and for me, it is a time to reminisce about the long walks and the long drives we used to take. He would make special trips to pick me up so that I could spend the weekends with him. Oh, and the advice he used to give! Too bad much of it was wasted because I was relatively young when he died. If he were alive today and passing down his gems of wisdom you could bet I'd be a better man. Some of the pearls he'd given me I've never forgotten. I would accompany him on his daily walk and he would point out various things worth noticing. "That tree there is a Japanese elm. They grow fast." or "During the great depression I fed every wayfarer that crossed our doorstep." Those things were well and good, but the thing I remember most, the jewel in the crown of grandfatherly advice came as we were weeding his garden. We were working around the hot peppers when he paused, looked me in the eye and said, "Don't marry a woman with big hands. It makes your dick look smaller." 

9/20/2001Saddam Hussein had a dream and called President George W. Bush to tell him about it. "I had a dream about the United States. I could see the whole country and over every building and home was a banner," said Hussein.
"What was on the banner?" asked Mr. Bush.

"LONG LIVE SADDAM HUSSEIN!" answered the Iraqi president.

"I am so glad that you called," said President Bush, " because I too had a dream. In my dream, I saw Baghdad and it was more beautiful than ever, totally rebuilt, and over every building and home was a big, beautiful banner."
"What did the banner say?" asked Saddam.

"I don't know," answered President Bush, " I can't read Hebrew."

An amateur photographer was invited to dinner with friends and took along a few pictures to show the hostess.  She looked at the photos and commented "These are very good!  You must have a good camera."  

He didn't make any comment, but, as he was leaving to go home he said "That was a really delicious meal!  You must have some very good pots."

9/14/2001

Dusty goes to the Patents Office with some designs. He tells the clerk, "I'd like to register my new inventions, the first one is a folding bottle".

Clerk: OK,  what do you call it?

Dusty: A fottle.

Clerk: That's a silly name, I sure hope you can come up with another one before it goes on the market?

Dusty: OK I'll try, my second invention is a folding carton.

Clerk: And what do you call that?

Dusty: A farton.

Clerk: That one will have to go too, if you tried to sell Fartons you would be the laughing stock of the country.

Dusty: Gee, something tells me that you're not going to like my folding bucket.

8/25/2001

A couple of Arkansas hunters are out in the woods when one of them falls to the ground.  He doesn't seem to be breathing, his eyes are rolled back in his head.  

The other guy whips out his cell phone and calls 911. He gasps to the operator, "My friend is dead!  What can I do?"  

The operator, in a calm soothing voice says, "Just take it easy. I can help.  First, let's make sure he's dead."  

There is a silence, then a shot is heard.....  

The hunter says, "OK, now what?"

8/18/2001

Having just wrestled (unsuccessfully) with an upgrade, I find this essay almost more true than funny: 


INSTALLATION SETUP 

How to Install Software - A 12 Step Program by Dave Barry from his book "Dave Barry In Cyberspace" 

1. Examine the software packaging until you find a little printed box that explains what kind of computer system you need to run the software. It should look something like this: 

SYSTEM REQUIREMENTS 
2386 PROCESSOR OR HIGHER 
628.8 MEGAHERTZ MODEM 
719.7 MB FREE DISK SPACE 
3546 MB RAM 
432323 MB ROM 
05948737 MB RPM ANTILOCK DISK-BRAKING SYSTEM DRIVER AIR-BAG NOTE: This software will not work on your computer. 

2. Open the software packaging and remove the manual. This will contain detailed instructions on installing, operating, and troubleshooting the software. Throw it away. 

3. Find the actual software, which should be in the form of either a

    3.5-inch floppy diskette (little bigger than a credit-card) or 

    CD-ROM (like a shiny 33LP), located inside a sealed envelope that says: 

LICENSING AGREEMENT: 

By breaking this seal, the user hereinafter agrees to abide by all the terms and conditions of the following agreement that nobody ever reads, as well as the Geneva Convention and the U.N. Charter and the Secret Membership Oath of the Benevolent Protective Order of the Elks and such other terms & conditions, real and imaginary, as the Software Company shall deem necessary and appropriate, including the right to come to the user's home and examine the user's hard drive, as well as the user's underwear drawer if we feel like it, take it or leave it, until death do us part, one nation indivisible, by the dawn's early light, ..finders keepers, losers weepers, thanks you've been a great crowd, and don't forget to tip your servers. 

4. Hand the software to a child aged 3 through 12 and say, "(Name of child), please install this on my computer." 

5. If you have no child age 3 through 12, insert the software in the appropriate drive, type "SETUP" and press the Enter key. 

6. Turn the computer on, you idiot! 

7. Once again type "SETUP" and press Any key. If you don't have an Any key, one can be purchased via 1-800-424-3468 or 
1-800-IBI-DIOT. For now press the Enter key. 

8. You will hear grinding and whirring noises for a while, after which the following message should appear on your screen: 

The Installation Program will now examine your system to see what would be the best way to render it inoperable. Is it OK with you? Choose one, and be honest: YES, NO, ??? 

9. Regardless of your selection, you will hear grinding and whirring for a very long time while the installation program does who knows what in there. Some installation programs can actually alter molecular structures, so that when they're done, your computer has been transformed into an entirely new device, such as a food processor. At the very least, the installation program will create many new directories, sub-directories, sub-sub-directories, on your hard drive and fill them with thousands of mysterious files with names like "puree.exe," "fester.dat," and "doo.wha." 

10. When the installation program is finished, your screen should display the following message: 

*** CONGRATULATIONS *** 

The installation program cannot think of anything else to do to your computer and has grown bored. You may now attempt to run your software. 

If you experience any problems, electrical shocks, insomnia, shortness of breath, nasal discharge, or intestinal parasites, you should immediately *!@!$)$%@&*^^)$*! 

11. At this point your computer system should become less functional than the federal government, refusing to respond even when struck with furniture. 

12. Call the toll-free Technical Support Hotline number listed on the package and wait on the line for a representative, who will explain to you, in a clear, step-by-step manner, how to adopt a child aged 3 through 12 or why you need to buy an upgrade.

8/7/2001

The 10 Rules of Housekeeping 

1. Vacuuming too often weakens the carpet fibers. Say this with a serious face, and shudder delicately whenever anyone mentions Carpet Fresh. 

2. Dust bunnies cannot evolve into dust rhinos when disturbed. Rename the area under the couch "The Galapagos Islands" and claim an ecological exemption. 

3. Layers of dirty film on windows and screens provide a helpful filter against harmful and aging rays from the sun. Call it an SPF factor of 5 and leave it alone. 

4. Cobwebs artfully draped over lampshades reduces the glare from the bulb, thereby creating a romantic atmosphere. If your partner points out that the light fixtures need dusting, simply look affronted and exclaim, "What? And spoil the mood?" 

5. In a pinch, you can always claim that the haphazard tower of unread magazines and newspapers next to your chair provides the valuable Feng Shui aspect of a tiger, thereby reducing your vulnerability. Roll your eyes when you say this. 

6. Explain the mound of pet hair brushed up against the doorways by claiming you are collecting it there to use for stuffing handsewn play animals for underprivileged children. 

7. If unexpected company is coming, pile everything unsightly into one room and close the door. As you show your guests through your tidy home, rattle the door knob vigorously, fake a growl and say, "I'd love you to see the den, but Fluffy hates to be disturbed and the shots are SO expensive." 

8. If dusting is REALLY out of control, simply place a showy urn on the coffee table and insist that "THIS is where Grandma wanted us to scatter her ashes ..." 

9. Don't bother repainting. Simply scribble lightly over a dirty wall with an assortment of crayons, and try to muster a glint of tears as you say, "Junior did this the week before that unspeakable accident ... I haven't had the heart to clean it..." 

10. Mix one-quarter cup pine-scented household cleaner with four cups of water in a spray bottle. Mist the air lightly. Leave dampened rags in conspicuous locations. Develop an exhausted look, throw yourself onto the couch, and sigh, "I clean and I clean and I still don't get it finished." 

8/6/2001

Someone elses rants...

Will Rogers said that the way to end highway congestion is to have the government build the cars and private industry build the highways. 

Democrats are the only reason to vote for Republicans. 

With all the political hysteria being whipped up this year about school shootings, more children are killed each year by bee stings -- and far more are killed by airbags mandated by the government. 

If we could take our great grandparents around on a tour of America as it is today, they would not only be astonished by all the things we have, they would be even more astonished by all the whining because we don't have more. 

While obituaries of George C. Scott rightly featured his classic performance in "Patton," he also starred in a hilarious comedy called "Movie Movie" that no one seems to remember. 

In the debates about when life begins, one of the more extreme positions is that life begins when a man and a woman sit down to share a glass of wine. 

By being too squeamish to punish "first offenders," we are being cruel in the long-run. 

Instead of nipping some criminal careers in the bud, we let young people think the law is a joke -- which can then lead them into more crimes and eventually hard time in prison. 

When my daughter recently asked me what the Department of Energy does, it was hard to answer. What she really meant was: "What does it accomplish?" The answer is practically nothing, except creating a nuisance with regulations and red tape. 

One of the worst things done by the vast expansion of the welfare state is that it has created a whole class of hustlers who spend their time extracting what others have produced, rather than producing anything themselves. Like other hustlers, they range from the ordinary streetwalker level on up to the level of the Hollywood madams -- from welfare cheats to smooth-talkers running all sorts of boondoggle programs with the taxpayers' money. 

I admire courage in a boxer and cowardice in a pilot -- especially if he is piloting a plane that I am in. 

Those who are being stampeded into supporting government programs to deal with "urban sprawl" need to understand that the growth of government is far more dangerous than the growth of cities. If you have to worry about something, worry about government sprawl. 

At the height of McCarthyism, there was not as much blacklisting of people as there is today by leftists in academia against scholars who do not share their vision of the world. Try finding a Republican in a sociology department. 

Politics is about power -- not about compassion or any of the other mushy stuff that politicians use to get power. 

Nothing is easier than to get photographed in the midst of smiling children as both the Clintons so often do. Even Hitler and Stalin were photographed in the midst of smiling children, so it is an insult to our intelligence to pull this old ploy again at this late date. 

The estate tax is a monument to envy. It wreaks havoc with families where parents try to leave something to their children, but it brings in little, if any, money to the government. Some people claim that the government actually loses money, on net balance, from estate taxes, but these taxes remain popular because they allow a blow to be struck against those who are envied. 

Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. Today, we sell our birthright of freedom and independence for political promises of pottage. The Social Security mess shows how much those promises are worth. Esau made a good deal -- compared to us. At least he got the pottage. 

If you want a real expert on welfare and poverty, try Robert Rector of the Heritage Foundation in Washington. 

"Conservatives are wasting their time, energy and votes if they stay in the Republican Party. No more than the Democrats do the Republicans honor the Constitution. They merely violate it at a slower pace." -- Joseph Sobran 

Guys and Malls
Sometimes the best shopping strategy is to just whomp the yak
By Dave Barry
Sunday, July 25, 2004; Page W32


I can't shop with my wife. The problem is that she almost never has a clear objective. I always have a clear objective. Without a clear objective, you're just wandering randomly around a store, which is not the point of shopping. This is not just my opinion: This is the opinion of literally thousands of Nobel Prize-winning scientists whose names are available upon request.

These scientists have traced the origins of shopping back to prehistoric times, when "shopping" was called "hunting," and primitive man would make out his "shopping list" by drawing, on his cave wall, a picture of his objective, usually a large wad of meat in the form of, say, a yak.

He would then go out into the wild, locate his objective and make the "purchase" by whomping the yak on the head with a club. This primitive shopper did not dillydally. He did not ask whether the yak was on sale. He did not try to accessorize the yak. He did not summon his primitive male friends and ask them if they thought the yak made his hips look big. No, he just whomped the yak, and then he dragged it home, stopping only to whomp the primitive sales guys who appeared out of nowhere and tried to force him to purchase the service agreement.

This is the biological basis for shopping. And this is why, even today, most men, when they shop, are yak-whompers. They do not wander: They go straight for the kill. I know I do. When I enter a store, I have a definite, practical, no-nonsense objective in mind, which is to locate and secure an electronic gizmo that I already have, except that the new one has more features. For example, recently, in a surgical shopping strike so blindingly fast you would need slow-motion replay to even see it, I located and secured a new cell phone that, in addition to being a phone, receives e-mail and takes extremely low-quality photographs. It has changed my life. Now, when I'm not using my phone's telephone feature ("Hello? Hello? Hello?") I can use the camera feature to record precious moments that I can share with others. ("Here's a picture of my daughter's ballet recital. Or the Grand Canyon.") And thanks to my phone's e-mail feature, even when I'm away from my computer, I can receive the literally hundreds of urgent messages I get every day from people wishing to enhance my manhood.

My wife does not understand why I needed this phone. Yet every guy I show it to immediately agrees that it is a vital necessity. I have a friend named Robert who has a similar phone, and recently we discovered that, theoretically, I could "beam" my address and phone number from my phone to his phone through the air. I say "theoretically" because we could not get it to actually work, although we spent a good 10 minutes standing about a foot apart, pointing our phones at each other and fruitlessly pressing buttons. Several women watched this with some amusement; they suggested that -- get this -- it might be quicker for me to just tell Robert my address and phone number, which would have represented a wanton and reckless disregard on our part for the beaming feature. These women also suggested that we look at our owner's manuals, which of course is out of the question. For a guy, reading the manual is tantamount to admitting that, manhoodwise, he is in the hamster category. But my point is that I acquired this phone via the standard guy method: in a bold, decisive, lightning-quick stroke. You're in; you're out; you're done! (I'm talking about shopping here.) Whereas my wife, when she gets inside a store, routinely takes astoundingly long periods of time to accomplish, essentially, nothing. She just shops!

With no objective! She can spend what feels like days just looking at -- without actually purchasing -- stationery. She's always in the market for stationery because she's always writing notes to her female friends, who are always writing notes back to her thanking her for her note, which causes her to write back to them, and so on.

So I can't go shopping with her. It makes me crazy. If I needed stationery, bang, I would grab some stationery and get the hell out of there. Of course I don't need stationery, because, as a guy, I never write notes. If I ever had a message for one of my friends, I would just beam it to him. Or I will, once I have mastered that feature.


© 2004 The Washington Post Company