I never go to a store, shop or even the supermarket on the day after Thanksgiving. I nearly got run over last year in a parking lot by a gray-haired maven behind the wheel of a $60,000 car trying out her zero-to-sixty horsepower. Another year, with my ex-wife "Aphrodite-the-goddess-of-free-love," I was shoved by a crowd of racing females against a stack of hanging jackets in a Burlington Coat factory store. I ended up making a fist at them in self-defense. One time in a Mervynn's store (R.I.P. Mervyn's, as they are shutting down on Christmas Day) I got clobbered by a lady in the checkout when it became my turn. She was insisting that I allow her in front of me because she only had a pair of gloves while I had several purchases. I said, "No way," and she tried to cold-cock me with her purse.

Enough. I shop the week before Christmas. The prices are always lower, and they don't run out of merchandise, folks. Never.

The spirit of Christmas. Humbug. Bring back the real spirit.

I watched my high school football team lose their state championship game today. It was on TV, on Sports Time Ohio, live. When I was in that school we only had baseball, basketball and track. I did them all. I loved baseball, as some of you know. I am still the only kid from that school to pitch a no-hitter. It was in my junior year and I was one out away from a perfect game. I had two strikes on the batter. My next pitch hit him on the knee. So he got to first base. A few minutes later I picked him off base and the game was over.

The first game I pitched in the following year I tore out my throwing elbow. That was it for my sports career. There were college scouts at all my games in my 11th grade and at that last game. They went away, of course. My pitching record was outstanding. I had four pitches then, and that was terrific. Most HS pitcher have two, a fastball and a curve. I could toss what is now called a slider and a changeup. You couldn't hit either.

The football team lost the state champs game for the second year running. It was sad, but they didn't bring their game. I don't think they watched the films of the opponents' games. They looked helpless in the second half. But we got there two years in a row.

Tomorrow I am getting our Frazier Fir. I have to scour the cellar for the things we put out for the Holidays. I will set up everything tonight for the tree. I am getting a smaller one this year. They are just to heavy for one man to screw with. The one I tagged at Tiffin Hardware will cost me $39,95 and is only about four feet from top to cut. The cats will be delighted. This is the earliest I ever got a tree. Last year I had a 6.5 foot Frazier. It went up here on December 5th and I took it down in mid January. It never dropped a single needle! In March it lay behind my backyard shed before I took it apart and drove the remains to the dump. It was still green!

Doobie got banished to the cellar again earlier this week. He made a vicous attack on Bunjii. Bunjii is a coward and screeches like a banshee (He is sick, you know, with a tumor.) Doobie will remain in detention for a long, long time. It is cold down there, but he has fur, litter, food and water. He just doesn't fit in. Hobbes misses his play buddy. But I can't have the attacks.

My diet continues, with some slight cheats. I had a BLT today. Yesterday I took Mom to a buffet and ate like a normal person. No gall bladder attacks since four weeks ago when I had the very first one.

The financial crisis continues. I really am careful what goes out of my bank account. It hurts to see all the seasonal merchandise in the stores, so I avoid looking. I went to W-M for the cheap prescription and made it through the pharmacy without looking at what they had in the aisles. I did, however, cast my eyes on a fine lass who was in the line just in front of me. I bought the kitty toys a long time ago and they are hanging in a bag in a closet. I only have to get this year's wind-up water globe music box for Bisbee Bird. That's it for presents. Mom and I have no exchange this year. I will cook her a good meal and maybe buy her a new robe.

I'm rattling on, so I may as well say this: I hope the authorities in Mumbai, India pull the fingernails out of their terrorist prisoners and find out who and where those attackers originated and trained. Torture is fine with me if it gets to the core of this tragedy. When it comes to these terrorists, national borders don't count. Go after them. Pakistan is a den of terror. The leaders there can't control it. The majority of Paks support al-quaeda and the other Islamic fundamentalist terror groups. Screw them. Go find them. Find their families, too. End the genetic string that produces people like that.

And I'm a Liberal.