Political Thoughts

Thinking Like a Politician

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I hope by now you have figured out that I’m not so dumb that I would write an article supporting one of our political parties.  Egad!  But both of our major parties have a lot in common.  They both want to convince us that what they are doing is for our benefit (not just to get reelected).  But I guess some things they do could result in both.

What got me started on this subject is I’m reading a series of books by C.J. Box whose main character is a Wyoming game warden named Joe Pickett. Joe is a true Dudley Do-Right.  The governor has discovered that Joe can get to the bottom of difficult, sensitive issues and uses him accordingly.  The governor always keeps his distance in case Joe screws up.  Plausible deniability.

The governor had a running battle with the Federal government and Joe caught Federal agents committing unlawful acts.  Joe had positive evidence of the crimes and turned the evidence over to the governor, who didn’t act on it.  Joe was confused.  The governor said, “Joe, you don’t think like a politician.”  He explained to Joe that he was going to hold the information over the Feds to insure he got what he wanted.  In college I took a course entitled, “Introduction to Political Thought,”  This subject of extortion never came up.

I retired from the Army when one of my former bosses was appointed as Administrator of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and asked me to be his Chief Counsel.  All of a sudden, I found myself a political appointee.  The good news was that I was up to my neck in running the office and learning about motor vehicle safety.  Not much time for politics.

One of the other political appointees was a fellow named Jamie and his title was Director of Legislative Affairs.  He was our liaison with the Hill and definitely was a political animal.  He saw conspiracies and plots everywhere.

During my second year at the Agency, I observed something going wrong. For the life of me I can’t remember what it was, but I had the capability to nip it in the bud and the problem went away.  A few days later, Jamie came in to discuss the matter.  He observed that I had solved the problem but explained that I should have handled the problem differently.  I should have waited until the problem was bigger and had more “visibility.”  Then when I solved the problem it would have had more “impact” and I could have given credit to my boss.  Say what?!  I guess that’s thinking like a politician.

In 1991, we were rolling out the airbag rule.  All passenger cars would be required to have frontal airbags for the driver and the front-seat passenger.  One congressman, who believed that he was the father of the airbag, decided that Jamie had snubbed him in the announcement of the new rule.  He repaid Jamie by eliminating Jamie’s position and his secretary’s position at the Agency. There was no longer a Director of Legislative Affairs.  We really missed the secretary.  Jamie left the Agency and took a job up on the Hill with the other party.  He had no strong political beliefs.  He could be loyal to either side and he could think like a politician.

The Fairfax

Cherry Blossom Time at The Fairfax

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Many of us are forever bragging about living at The Fairfax.  But when you combine The Fairfax with springtime, you get an unbeatable combination.  One of the reasons is all the Cherry Blossom trees we have on the campus.  And this was clearly not an accident.  We know that because of their locations.  Many of the trees are located just outside the entrances of the different buildings.  You could argue that the founder carefully built the buildings around the existing trees – and that pigs can fly.

I think one of the things that makes the Cherry Blossoms so special is that they are with us for such a short time each year.  They bloom for one to two weeks a year and peak viewing lasts four to seven days.  Of course, strong winds or rain can cut everything short.  You could go to visit your sick relative in St. Louis and miss the whole thing.

A number of years back, I became fascinated with all of our Cherry Blossom trees.  I decided to walk around the grounds, find where they are located and count them.  A cautionary note – only try to count them when they are in bloom.  I randomly walked around the lake, the parade ground, the front of the Health Care Center.  I was amazed at how many we had, but on at least two occasions, I lost track of my count.  I think I was just walking my dog when the idea struck me, and I had nothing with me to take notes.  When I was finished, I was satisfied that we had over 60 trees.

Each year when the Cherry Blossoms exploded in their beauty, I would remind myself that I need to do a serious count.  But then they were gone!  This year, I decided to follow through on my quest.  Armed with a pen and a note pad, I started out.  From the front of the Jefferson (it’s the only location where we have Weeping Cherry Blossoms), to the lake, behind the Adams, to the parade ground and on and on.  I even found two growing wild.

I took meticulous notes.  I counted four trees behind the Community Center.  Then I walked around the Health Care Center and counted the same four again.  Finally, I realized that I had written “4 behind the Community Center” twice.

I counted 86 Cherry Blossom trees here at The Fairfax.  Some are really big and some are incredibly beautiful, like the one on the corner of the lake.  I told my friend, Pat Cleary, about the results of my project and he wanted to make sure I counted the scraggly, little one in back of Washington West. After two more trips back over, I identified the runt he was referring to.  It had one branch in full bloom.  Yes, I had counted it.

I guess the bottom line is you don’t have to go down to the Tidal Basin to see the beautiful Cherry Blossom trees.  They are all around you!  Now that they are gone for another year, I’m focusing on our mockingbirds and their many, many beautiful calls.  I may have more trouble counting them.

Uncategorized

The Olympics

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Every two years, we have a Summer or Winter Olympics.  Every time, wherever it is held, they try to do it bigger and better.  And I try to figure out what’s going on.  I’m talking about the opening and closing ceremonies.  Even with the commentators explaining it, I’m lost.  And to make matters worse they were speaking and singing in Italian.  Mama Mia!

I taped the whole thing.  I ended up with over 200 shows taped.  But that’s the way to go.  I could speed through all the commercials and comments by Snoop Dog.  I also speeded it up when all the nations marched in.  I make no apology for speeding through Albania, Andora and Armenia.  I’ll stop the list there, but I didn’t stop fast forwarding.

And crazy sports.  I won’t have any trouble waiting four years to see a snowboarder slide down a rail.  And the judges scored them high for how long they could stay on the rail.  I would have scored them high for how fast they could get off the rail. Then there are the aerial ski jumpers who fly high in the air twisting and flipping.  It is something to behold. Then the commentator says,  “Wow, that was a 1260 double cork.”  But no one explains what a 1260 double cork is.  I know a double cork is twice as much as a single cork, but I don’t know what a cork is.

Curling.  Fascinating.  It is definitely a beer drinking sport, but you have to stay sober enough to sweep!  It has its own language in that each team starts with eight rocks and they play 10 ends. It is also important which team has the hammer.  The only way to watch curling is to fast forward through the first six rocks and then watch the last two.  You can also fast forward through the endless debates on what to do with the next rock.  I enjoyed watching curling, but, again, I’m willing to wait four years for the next match. You know how difficult it is to find a gift for the person who has everything.  Give that person a curling rock.

There were so many Olympic activities that they were on NBC, CNBC and USA Network.  While watching USA Network, I saw a host/reporter who sounded familiar.  While she was interviewing different athletes, they would show closeups of the athletes, but not her.  I was sure I knew her, but I couldn’t think of her name.  She had been the NBC local sports reporter on Channel 4. I was pretty sure her name started with a Z.  I went to Google for a list of reporters and commentators at the Olympics.  It was a massive list.  I went to the Zs.  No luck. I did find OJ Simpson.  That must have been before the white Ford Bronco ride.  Finally, I found her.  Lindsey Czarniak. See why I thought Z.  She was so good on local TV, and I am not surprised she is doing well on a bigger stage.  I felt like I had renewed an acquaintance with an old friend.

The thing that makes the Olympics so great is when someone from your country does something so spectacular that the whole world acknowledges it.  Like Alysa Liu, after retiring at age 16, coming back and giving the performance of her life to win the gold medal in women’s skating. And the women’s hockey team tying up the gold-medal game in the last two minutes and winning in overtime.  Yes, of course, the men’s hockey team beating a much superior Canadian team in overtime.  And when the winning goal scorer, Jack Hughes, smiled through his moments earlier cracked teeth and said, “I’m so proud to be an American,” and “I love the USA.”  I just said, “Amen.”

My Military Daze

O-Clubs in Germany in the Sixties

I have a question for you.  When you think back about the good times, were they really as good as we remember?  I’m satisfied that the bad ones were really that bad, but I’m not sure about the good ones.  But if the memories of the good ones got better through the years, who cares?

I have happy memories of our officer’s club in Goeppingen, West Germany in the mid to late 60’s.  I was assigned to the 4th Armored Division at Cook Barracks (the Flugplatz).  We took over the club after the war. There was a small balcony practically in the rafters and supposedly Herman Goering used to stand on the balcony and make speeches.

Life wasn’t always great, but on Friday night, everyone seemed to mosey over to the O-Club, and a good time was had by all.  During this time, all the clubs had slot machines.  My wife, Carole, would get a $2.00 roll of nickels and she and her girlfriends could entertain themselves for hours. There were problems when someone else was playing their favorite machine, but they would quickly find another favorite machine.  The machines were set to win, but they gave everyone a lot of play for a nickel.

I went up to the bar one night and a bunch of lieutenants were drinking to cowboys.  Someone would say, “to Roy Rogers,” and they would all take a drink.  I think it was a game, but I don’t remember how it was played.  We went through Tom Mix, Gene Autry, Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy, the Cisco Kid, Wyatt Earp, Matt Dillon and Buffalo Bill.  We even drank to Jesse James. We were all about done, when I remembered Lash LaRue!  Well, the good news was we all had a good time.  The bad news was that one of the lieutenants got in his car and went downtown.  He ended up with a DWI.  I felt bad, but not responsible.  Maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t remembered Lash LaRue.

One night, I saw the provost marshal rolling dice with some of his subordinates for drinks.  I kidded him about it.  It seems that I struck a nerve and the game was over.  Some people have no sense of humor, and I never know when to keep my mouth shut. Oh well. But there was great music for dancing in the 60’s and that lead to some great parties.

I will always remember the New Years Eve party in 1968.  New Years Eve on a military post is a big deal, and we were having a bash at the O-Club.  All decked out in our dress blues and having a very special dinner and dance.  For entertainment, we had a comedian coming.  He had been on The Gomer Pyle TV show.  I think his name was Roy Stuart and he played Corporal Chuck Boyle. He was going to perform at 10:30.  Well, he didn’t show.  About 11:00, we received a message that because of the bad snow he was running late, but he was coming.

Well, the New Year came and no comic.  Another call came in at 12:15 telling us that he was 15 minutes out.  People were milling around.  We had a young, energetic Division Chief of Staff.  Out of nowhere, he appeared and gathered a bunch of us together.  He said, “Watch my lead.  If this guy isn’t funny, we are going to throw his rear out in the snow!”  Now, I won’t get into what constitutes a legal order, but I knew, for better or worse, we would follow our leader.  All I could think of was our picture on the front page of the Overseas Weekly!

The good news was that he showed up and was really funny.  I probably laughed harder than was necessary, but I was so happy that there would be no snow-covered career-ending donnybrook.

Random Thoughts

The Weather

There’s a famous quote that goes, “Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.”  I guess whoever wrote that never heard of the “rain dance.”  Then there’s the snowstorm we just went through.  This was a one in a century for DC in that we had substantial snow, then freezing rain, or wintery mix or whatever you want to call it; followed by at least two weeks of below freezing temperatures.  It isn’t that nobody is doing anything; it’s more that we can’t do much.

Three days after the storm, I had a dental appointment.  So, I cleaned off my car with a broom.  That’s right, a broom!  I beat the car with a broom handle.  The icy crust had three to four inches of soft snow under it.  I whacked all over the car, even the windshield.  The only thing I was worried about breaking was the broom handle. I would whack, whack, whack and then slide the broken ice off the car.  When I backed the car out, it did strange things, but I don’t think it had anything to do with the broom handle.

The storm we just encountered had a name.  It was called “Fern.”  I knew that hurricanes had names, but I had never heard of a storm having a name.  I checked and hurricanes started getting names in the 50’s.  At first, they were named after women.  That certainly made sense to me.  After about twenty years they started naming them after everybody.  NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) did the naming. 

So, who names winter storms.  Some agency of the government?  No. It’s the Weather Channel. It makes sense.  If you spend 24 hours a day talking about the weather, you too would get bored and start naming things.  When they’re not naming things, they come out with earth shattering statements like, “The temperature is going to drop when the sun goes down,” and “Flooding is when the water gets above dry land.”  Go ahead guys, name stuff.

One young kid was the weatherman in Denver, Colorado.  The station sent him out to view the first day of snow and the first thing he said was, “What am I doing here?”  Then he said, “Folks, I spent $120,000 and four years of college so that I could be sent out here to point at snow.  I could have done that back at the station.”  His coworker, back at the station, inquired as to how people in the area felt about the first snow.  He responded, “Look around Brenda, I’m the only one dumb enough to be out here.”  That may have been his last assignment.

Through the years, we have all been surprised by a snowstorm that no one predicted.  That happens less and less, because we now have better models that predict the weather.  There is the European model, and NOAA’s Global Forecast System (GFS), and even a Canadian Meteorological model. Everyone seems to agree that the European model is more accurate.  But why a Canadian model tracking hurricanes?  Maybe it is because so many Canadians are vacationing in Florida and Mexico.  You can always recognize the Canadian model because the end each forecast with “aye.”

Random Thoughts

Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman

Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman was a sitcom from January 1976 to July 1977.  It was produced by Norman Lear (who also produced Archie Bunker, The Jeffersons and Sanford and Sons) and it was described as a cult classic with lots of dark humor (an understatement)!  Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman was a lot like oregano.  You either loved it or hated it.  I loved it.

During that period, I was assigned to the Pentagon and if you wanted a parking space, you had to be in at least a four-person carpool.  Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman was a nighttime soup opera that was on for 30 minutes Monday through Friday.  In almost every show something crazy happened and I would brief the carpool the next morning.  I love a captive audience.

In the very first show, we find Mary, as a housewife, living in Fernwood, Ohio.  She received a phone call from the police station advising her that they had apprehended the infamous “Fernwood Flasher,” and it turned out to be Mary’s grandpa, Grandpa Larkin. Well, the whole family went down to the police station and got Grandpa Larkin released to their custody.  And as they are leaving the station, Mary turns to the family and says, “Does anyone else feel like going out for a pizza?”  That was it.  I was hooked.

In another episode, Leroy Fedders, the dumpy high school football coach, was suffering from a bad cold.  He decided that if he drank enough, he wouldn’t feel so badly.  He was pretty much in his cups when Mary Hartman showed up with some chicken soup.  He could hardly hold his head up, but Mary insisted that he sit down and eat some chicken soup.  After Mary left, Coach Fedders passed out in the chicken soup and died.  The thing that made the scene classic was while his face was in the chicken soup, he reached up and grabbed his hair and tried to pull himself out.  His efforts failed.

One of the characters in the show was Jimmy Joe Jeeter, an eight-year-old child evangelist. His father, Merle Jeeter, (Dabney Coleman) was always trying to make a buck off of his son.  He wanted to build some houses near the church and advertise them as “Condos for Christ.”  Loretta Haggers (Mary Kay Place), Mary’s best friend, was babysitting Jimmy Joe Jeeter and she wanted him to take his bath.  He insisted that he had to watch the six o’clock news.  They compromised in that she would hook up the TV set to the shower head so that he could watch the news while he bathed.  Some of you might not think that that was a good idea and you would be correct.  As the news ended and Jimmy Joe launched into a sermon on man’s inhumanity to man, the wire holding the TV continued to loosen.  I can’t do justice to what happened next.  You just had to be there. After Loretta found the tragedy, she looked up to the heavens and said “Lord, he gave his life for the six o’clock news.”

Mary had a nervous breakdown at the end of the first season and as the second season started, we found Mary in a mental institution.  At 7::00 PM, she found her fellow patients gathering around the TV.  She asked what was going on and one of the patients proudly explained that they were a Nielson rating “family!”

You can find bits and pieces of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman on YouTube, but it will confuse you even more that I have.

Poems

Another Christmas Poem – 2025

Wait a minute, done this before, but this is what I do, so I’ll write some more. It’s Christmas time, so I need to report, it may be long, so be a good sport. The year has raced by and I haven’t frittered, I believe it’s a success, all things considered.

The move to The Fairfax seems wiser each year, everything is provided including good cheer. They clean, they feed, they transport me to a show, the activities are withering, and did you know, a continuing care facility is truly the right path, for when I become feeble, they’ll give me my bath,

It was a great year for golf, not particularly my score, but things happened I’ll remember forever more. My first golf trip to Ireland, Missy in tow, five courses in six days, a tough row to hoe. but with the lilt of Irish laughter, we knew we had it in us, we’d finish off the day with a hearty pint of Guinness. Stateside now was also great for my Fort Belvoir team, after forty years in the wilderness, we finally achieved our dream. League champions for the first time, yes, yes, it’s true, three playoff victories and we rose to the top of the queue!

The JAG School completed my oral history, better late than never, I rattled on for a couple of days, for me not a difficult endeavor. After a long career, I was really proud of myself, so what if it ends up on a dusty library shelf.

I’ve listed my health issues, of course I have some, to not acknowledge them, would really be dumb. And some of the problem I don’t understand, but when they say “I’ll see you next year,” it really is grand.

Trips have become annual, but not routine, most involve family, I guess that was foreseen. Florida in February, it was still quite cold, golf lessons with skosh improvement really gets old. But seeing four generations is exciting stuff, with me as the dinosaur, I can’t get enough. Retired Judge Advocate Reunion in Portland Maine, Missy helped drive, which removed the strain. Saw great friends and ate lobster until we nearly busted, why always a daughter along, because I can’t be trusted.

The girls arrived in July for their annual vacation, when we got to Ocean City, Courtyard lost our reservation. Kristin saved the day with a great backup choice, when I got my money back, Marriott heard my voice. We made the shopping trip to Rehobeth, we’ve perfected the drill, and nothing could be more perfect that an evening at Sunset Grille!

In October, Paul and Sandy invited us to Hatteras, at the bottom of the Outer Banks, it really did flatter us. Good weather, beautiful sunrises, ah, that’s the life, free from bickering and politics, away from everyday strife. You asked what I accomplished, yes, a week without distraction, I think the calm serenity, brings its own satisfaction.

I guess that’s about it, nothing else to report, oh, Becky is coming for Christmas, that’s a great support. So, I’ll leave you some advice, don’t be shy, when it comes to the market, buy low and sell high.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Golf Daze, Sporting Daze

The Emerald Isle

Bucket list, bucket list, bucket list.  I guess we all use the term, but there seems to be a finality to it.   Well, I always wanted to make a golfing trip to Ireland (bucket list).  It just never worked out.  So, this year I bit the bullet.  I contacted a company in Ireland called Sullivan Golf Tours and they set me up.  My daughter, Missy, agreed to go.

One of the things I don’t understand is why we have to fly to Chicago to get to Ireland.  The good news was that the gates were right next to each other.  There are times when you need a guide, a map, and a compass to get around O’Hare and it still doesn’t work.

Before leaving, Sullivan sent me a seven-page document entitled “Travel Tips.”  Most of it delt with how much to tip caddies and others.  Maybe that is why they called it Travel Tips.  They also recommended I bring two dozen balls.  Message received.  I played five courses and on the first four, I only lost two balls.  I give most of the credit to my caddies who somehow found my slightly misdirected missiles.  On Day Five, I quit counting lost balls at five.  That’s all I want to say about Day Five.

I studied the weather two-weeks out and it looked like rain each day and temperature in the fifties.  Travel Tips told me to bring Bermuda shorts.  Bermuda shorts?  They said they would work best when slipping on rain pants.  Well, the weather was great the first four days.  I did wear Bermuda shorts on the day I don’t want to talk about (under my rain pants).  They were not the problem.

We had 30 people in our group.  This was a “Golf Association of Michigan” sponsored event and being from Virginia and Missy from Florida, we felt fortunate to be included.  That was before I met the four from Kansas City, the four from Rochester, the three from Seattle, the two from Chicago and the one from Dallas.  The lady in charge of the Michigan group didn’t show up.  I don’t blame her.

Sullivan was great and the group was great, but I wasn’t surprised.  Golfers from wherever are all part of the same community.  There wasn’t a sore head in the group, unless it was me and they were all too nice to tell me.

During the first three rounds, I was able to use a buggy (English for golf cart).  That worked out well.  The last two rounds on Ballybunion and Lahinch had no buggies.  I had to walk!  I survived Ballybunion, but on about the 13th hole at Lahinch, my caddy told me he thought he could find me a buggy.  I told him that the only thing I wanted was a baby buggy and I wanted him to push me.

Random Thoughts

Who’s a Swiftie?

I am pleased that Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are now engaged.  I was wondering if anybody doesn’t know who they are.  But I suspect everyone knows.  When Spring Break students were asked who we fought in the American Revolution, they didn’t know, but they sure know Taylor and Travis.

I saw people on TV going crazy over the news.  You would have thought that they just won the Powerball.  One woman blurted out that just like 9/11, everyone will remember where they were when they heard the news.  I’m sorry Gretchin, but I have already forgotten.  Another person couldn’t get over that the couple got engaged on the same day that Starbucks started selling their Pumpkin Spice Latte!  You talk about the stars aligning.  I should have bought a lottery ticket.

I really like Taylor Swift.  I like Country music, and I remember her first hit, strangely called Tim McGraw.  She sang Country for about eight years before she switched to Pop and conquered the world.  I thought I was a Swiftie.  I really respected her when she took on Big Machine Record Company on who owned the master of her first six albums.  When she lost the battle, she rerecorded and released four of the albums on her own label!  That’s impressive.  And it never bothered me that she was singing about breaking up with some pimply-faced kid.

I’m afraid that when she left Country in 2014, I quit following her.  I have now looked at all that she has done since then and have decided that I can’t call myself a Swiftie anymore.  Is there such a thing as a “fall-away Swiftie?”

Now, is the engagement going to impact on Kelce’s performance on the gridiron?  Let’s get some facts out.  Travis has been a truly outstanding player for a number of years.  He is 35.  Just like dog years, there are football years and 35 is getting up there.  He has coped with distractions for the last couple of years – Taylor and a lively podcast with his brother, Jason. He’s handled those well, so I think he will not be overly distracted. But if you have a choice to go over or under, go under!There is a burgeoning theory that because Taylor is getting married, more young people will get married.  You all know that young are not getting married as early or as often as they used to.  I hope the theory is right.  I have six grandchildren, all of marital age, and only two are married.  Hey kids, listen to Taylor.  Heck, I might even get out there myself.  But first I need to find Coach Belichick’s playbook

Random Thoughts

Our Constitution and the Unattended Speed Camera

I really like our Constitution.  It is a living, breathing document that we can amend when it is necessary for the good of our people. The problem comes in when two groups want to do exactly the opposite and insist the other side is violating their constitutional right to do it.  That is why we have courts.

I think everyone who has done something stupid or is thinking of doing something stupid, has already decided they have a constitutional right to do it.  And, in fairness to them, not everything that is stupid is unconstitutional.  It’s just stupid.

The First Amendment guarantees freedom of speech. Yet, we all understand that that doesn’t give someone the right to stand up in a crowded theater and shout “fire.”  The First Amendment also gives us the right “peaceably to assemble,” but you probably should not shut down an interstate highway while you are doing it.  And when some reporter is telling me the assembly is “mostly peaceful,” and I can see buildings burning in the background, I tend to lose it.

Our country, under our Constitution, is made up mostly of good, well-meaning people. Unfortunately, politics has divided these good, well-meaning people into strongly divided camps.  Each group is convinced that the other side is going to destroy our democracy.  I would just like to say to both sides, shut up!  Our country survived a Civil War.  We will survive two shallow parties pointing fingers at each other.  No, Chicken Little, the sky is not falling.  Please enjoy family holiday dinners with everybody.  Let he who is free from sin cast the first stone (that’s biblical).  Of course, if someone shows up wearing a white sheet, exclude them.

But will our country survive the unattended speed camera that catches drivers racing down the road?  Does the Constitution protect these drivers?  Again, shut up.  I’m convinced the answer is no, but you are about to read how some people believe their constitutional rights are being violated.  Here we go.  1. How about the right against unreasonable search and seizure?  No warrant!  2. How about the right to confront your accuser?  You can’t cross-examine a camera.  3.What about the right to privacy (however you pronounce it)?  4.  What if I take the Fifth?  Again, shut up!

There are a few states that prohibit speed cameras and red-light cameras. That’s OK.  The Tenth Amendment to the Constitution gives the states the power to control all matters not delegated to the federal government.  If New Jersey wants to protect the safety of their streets without cameras, have at it.

I got caught by a speeding camera.  It was three days after my wife, Carole,  died and I was going back to Walter Reed to pick up her belongings.  I got off the Beltway and pulled on to Wisconsin Avenue, which is three or four lanes wide between the Beltway and Walter Reed. Somewhere along that road a camera caught me speeding.

I started formulating reasons why I shouldn’t have to pay.  My mental state?  Certainly, there were extenuating circumstances.  Then I said to myself, shut up! I mailed in the fine.

BOO! I saw you smile!