Like 90% of the American public, I am on a New Year’s Regime. No, this time I really mean it. Gone is the junk food stash – over there, in the cabinet no one but I and the cat look in, so don’t even ASK.

I’ve even joined the gym and got a routine that takes me an hour to do. Serious stuff going on there, not for the faint of heart, so move along if you haven’t the right stuff.

Urbie and I have begun to look like the Sprats again. Oh yes, I can hear my mother saying it, which is impetus enough. This haunting.

The trainer who gave me my torture routine also gave me this nifty recipe for oatmeal pancakes. They are an amazing substitue for Dr. A breakfast bars (though higher in carbs, so no pancakes unless there is gym following) and stick with you.

1/2 cup oatmeal
10 egg whites
splenda and cinnamon to taste

Cook on a griddle, like pancakes.

We eat them with no sugar peanut butter. Wow.

Yesterday, a guy in a pickup truck wouldn’t let me in front of him so I could make a right turn. I’d been trying for a while. And he wasn’t going to get there any faster by not letting me in because there was a large, slow tanker truck in front of him.

The pickup was painted flat black. Across the tailgate was spray painted, in red (of course), “Stealth Redneck”. In the gun rack behind his head was an AK-47. One assumes its authenticity as this is Arizona. Frankly, the son of a bitch frightened me and I was not one suckled at the suburban breast. I saw the “unrest” first hand during the ‘68 Democratic Convention and when Martin Luther King was shot. That was just my formative years.

What I’d like to know is what made Mr. “Stealth Redneck” any different from some member of the Jihad? I’ll bet a shiny new dime that each of their views depart radically from The Enlightenment. But otherwise, I’m not so sure there’s a difference, other than a nominal subscription to different prophets.

A little on the humbuggy side, I’m afraid, for I am weary of the bumper sticker fundamentalism and naive theology abroad in the world today. It runs contrary to my Episcopalian upbringing in the sense that all this foisting of belief upon others is, first and foremost, impolite. President Bush has forgotten this and his mother must be beside herself.

And so, at the risk of incurring the wrath of Miss Manners, I just wanted to post these last two paragraphs from Christopher Hitchens’ essay on Slate Magazine:

“Our Christian enthusiasts are evidently too stupid, as well as too insecure, to appreciate this. A revealing mark of their insecurity is their rage when public places are not annually given over to religious symbolism, and now, their fresh rage when palaces of private consumption do not follow suit. The Fox News campaign against Wal-Mart and other outlets—whose observance of the official feast-day is otherwise fanatical and punctilious to a degree, but a degree that falls short of unswerving orthodoxy—is one of the most sinister as well as one of the most laughable campaigns on record. If these dolts knew anything about the real Protestant tradition, they would know that it was exactly this paganism and corruption that led Oliver Cromwell—my own favorite Protestant fundamentalist—to ban the celebration of Christmas altogether.

No believer in the First Amendment could go that far. But there are millions of well-appointed buildings all across the United States, most of them tax-exempt and some of them receiving state subventions, where anyone can go at any time and celebrate miraculous births and pregnant virgins all day and all night if they so desire. These places are known as “churches,” and they can also force passersby to look at the displays and billboards they erect and to give ear to the bells that they ring. In addition, they can count on numberless radio and TV stations to beam their stuff all through the ether. If this is not sufficient, then god damn them. God damn them everyone.”

I skimmed an article today about procrastination, especially in the academic world. A retired psychology professor at York University holds workshops, only to have no shows and sporadic attendance from the participants. Fortunately, the counselor is a chronic procrastinator himself. Everyone is not getting something done in another location.

Each day I resolve, only to become sidetracked and working from home doesn’t help. Neither does the recently installed fast(er) internet connection – I’m getting more not done on wider variety of subjects, including clips from Comedy Central and the BBCAmerica.

But, get me down to the wire, which in this house means three souls* who count on my culinary efforts for sustenance, and just before dinnertime as they stand before me, drooling for attention, amazingly that script I was trying to get to work ALL DAY finally does.

See, that’s the thing. When putting it off ceases to be rewarding, maybe that’s when I’ll focus better.

*The cat sticks to kibble, thank you.

I want to know who the big fat genius was who put a tank outside the house and said, “There! This will do for all our heating and cooking needs!” Phooey!

At least when I had an apartment with a radiator, I could beat on that until the super came up and told me to knock it off as he was working on the boiler.

And therein lies the problem, my friends. I am a creature of Civilization. The kind that has heat, World Markets and a decent dry cleaner.

I am not built for the Back to The Basics Brigade. I want to race with the rats! Darling, I love you, but give me Park Avenue

Anyone that has oscillated in my personal orbit in the recent past KNOWS my preference for the Apple platform. In fact, Urbie insists that the reason I gave him an Apple Mini was because I couldn’t sleep with that Windows98 machine a-chugging away in my vicinity.

It stands to reason that I covet the dual processor G5. The minute that poor megkafalas.com can afford it, I’m heading to the Apple store, checkbook waving.

I recently ordered a new George Foreman Grill. The one with replaceable plates, as Dishboy has scrubbed all the teflon off the old one. I figure if one can remove the plates to soak, one will not need to scrub so hard.

Bugger. The Universe do have a sense of humor, do it not?

Just go here and get yourself a presence on the web. What ho! you may ask, what makes them so different? I worked with these nice young men for many years, comrades in Tech Support, you might say and because the ISP was not automated, they have a foundation in fundamentals you just don’t find anymore. Their security chops are out of this world.

Look at it this way: Wouldn’t you rather have an airline pilot who was once that little kid out at the airport who washed planes in exchange for hours in the bi-plane or do you want the one that has only flown with the latest instruments?