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On Wednesday night, the events outside my living room window superceded the story
developing on my TV. At about 8:00 pm, a short wail of a police car was followed by
the constant flash of blue and red lights on the living room walls.

A quick run to the window transformed me into more than a casually interested
observer. An unmarked police car had pulled over a red Chevrolet sedan. The
driver of the vehicle and the police officer were both out of their cars. Mr.
policeman was not happy. He shouted at passenger to remain in the vehicle.
He shouted at the driver to remain behind the car while he peered into the
vehicle with a flashlight.

Probably a simple traffic stop, I thought to myself. It was odd that the
police officer was in an unmarked car. It was also odd that apparently the two
cars had come from within my neighborhood, not from the main road.
That isn’t the likeliest place for a radar trap. Oh well, no matter –
Ed was on.

What’s going on? Is disco coming back? Another trip to the window revealed
an even more interesting scene. Three more police vehicles had appeared, blocking
off much of the road. Six kids were lined up against the car. Several police
officers were talking to each other. Cars of adults began to appear.

This is getting good. I better get on the phone with the neighbors. The neighbor
behind me called to make sure John Travolta wasn’t dancing away in the yard.
I called the neighbor across the street to see if they had the scoop.
They too were peering from behind the curtains but had the window cracked
to gain an audio track to the movie playing in the street. A jarbled version of
the tale indicated there was something about an assault. The clown car of
children that was pulled over contained six kids. One was taking the blame.
He was the one in cuffs.

Eventually, parents showed up to take their future convicts home. The kid in cuffs
got to ride in the car with the pretty lights. Calm was restored.

That would have been the end of the story but it got much better when a kind policeman
stopped by while the wife, myself, and a neighbor were handing out candy on
Halloween. He had seen us peeking anxiously from the windows.

The kids in question were having a bit of fun, celebrating mischief night by sharing
some recent poultry purchases from the grocery store. This merry band of
adventurers had decided to not only pelt inanimate objects but humans as well.
In fact, a man in my neighborhood had been attacked with eggs as he exited his
truck. This man was unhappy. This man left his truck behind and jumped in his
undercover police car in hot pursuit.

A state trooper got his man that night. The kid in cuffs went to jail for assualt.
The hooligans in the car were stopped, thankfully before they got around to my
house.

I can’t help but chuckle at their bad luck. I’d say someone has egg on his face (oooo, too easy).
Just wait until junior gets back to school and has to hear about this one from his friends.

Senator Paul Wellstone was reportedly a well-respected, well-liked representative of the United States. His
death,
which occured when
the plane carrying him and his family plunged into the earth on
an Friday morning, should have caused waves of sorrow to sweep
through his
funeral. Instead, it turned ugly. It turned into a political
rally.

I didn’t know the man. Heck, I wasn’t even really aware of him
until this week. From what I gather, he was a democrat and a liberal.
His views fell far left of the fence. Undoubtedly, we would have disagreed
about nearly everything. That doesn’t limit my disgust about the tragic events
of his funeral.

Democrats have accused the republicans of taking advantage of a man’s death.
Some have went so far to ask them to concede the election.
But it seems it the real vultures were the democrats themselves; the pot
called the kettle black.

They cheered when Walter Mondale entered. They booed when Trent Lott
did the same. Can’t we all be civil?
If we are going to request
audience participation, as did Senator Tom
Harkin, can’t we at least stash the casket in the corner?

Mondale, Wellstone’s hand-picked successor to the ballet shuffled
to the podium and declared, “Tonight, our campaign begins.” Did it
have to be tonight? Can we be sad for just a little while? It seems
that Jesse Ventura might
bodyslam
the democrats against the ropes
for their actions. For once, we agree.

Those Democrats sure know how to throw a party. I just thought
they would have the decency to keep the dance floor off the man’s grave.