Breakfast with Bwana

One of the advantages of insomnia is that you get to watch stuff on TV as it is happening in Europe or Australia or the Middle East. For me, this means watching an occasional golf telecast from Australia or Dubai. You see, when the important stuff like Wimbledon or The Open Championship are to be shown, the TV networks arrange for coverage to begin at 9:00 A.M. Eastern time.

With funerals, the options are more limited. I mean, the guy is dead and you have the Cardinals and dignitaries and a huge crowd assembled and eventually, the Port-a-potties are not enough. Besides, if you are the President of the US, or even a former President and quite a bit older as George H. W. Bush 41 is, you don't get up to pee in the middle of the Pope's funeral.

So, the Pope's funeral was broadcast at 4:00 A.M. Eastern time. Mind you, we had already moves clocks ahead. The Spring Ahead day is my favorite day of the year and I love it when we have light early in the morning and late into the day. I never fancied being an eskimo in the winter. So, it was almost light and I didn't feel like I was up in the middle of the night although I was. That's how it is when you are wide asleep.

I woke up and turned on the TV. There was MSNBC with an outsize logo on the left reading "Funeral Mass of John Paul II" -- I was surprised that with their pretentions, it did not read "Ioannes Paulus Secundus" -- and on the right, a logo reading "LIVE MSNBC." Well, the "LIVE" was just to the right of the coffin in front of the altar in St. Peter's Basilica. It seemed incongruous. It was a funeral. The principal participant who made it possible was not live.

So, I switched to NBC. Sure enough, a sign saying "Live - NBC." Well, it's a funeral. The word "Live" doesn't belong.

Meanwhile, Katie Koorick (or however you spell the name) is making commentary. Wait a minute twit! This is a funeral ... not a sports event. We do not need a play by play or comments about how the crowd is well behaved and touched. Really.

So, I switched to C-SPAN. They had a logo: "Live - C-SPAN." Well, I figured there's no reason not to hope.

Then, I saw Chuck in the group of dignitaries. He was at the funeral rather than at his wedding to/with Camilla PB. He seemed quite chipper about it all so one wonders if it was okay with him.

CPB is, of course, to be the Duchess of Cornwall once the civil ceremony -- it would likely be decidedly uncivil if Mum attended -- is over. Meanwhile, she is the Duchess of Back Burner as Chuck postponed the wedding in favor of a funeral.

Good thing Prince Rainier's funeral isn't until next week or Chuck would have skipped a second DOC appointment -- er... that's Duchess of Cornwall -- DOC.

It turns out that Mum would rather be at the very important horse race, but she will attend the post nuptial reception. Actually, she could look at Camilla and see the horse that won.

Camilla was really quite sweet about it all. She called the Queen and said: "Hello Mum, it's Camilla." The Queen responded: "Ah yes, Mrs. Parker Bowles, what can we do for you?" Camilla persisted, "But Mum, Harry and William told me that HM in the family is code for 'Hello Mum' and told me you'd like that." The Queen was not amused, but then, these are her grandchildren.

"Oh well, Mrs. Parker Bowles, but do tell the Prince of Wales not to wear that ridiculous jacket with the red collar and the red cuffs. He looks like the doorman at the hotel in ... where was it ... Lagos, or Phuket ... well, somewhere. It's bad enough that Harry is dressing up in a suit looking like his uncle and now the Prince of Wales is dressing up like a defeated colonel from some North African army."

Camillas isn't too worried. The big argument is about who is going to wear the skirt in this family. Seems like Chuck is getting an assortment of kilts from Camilla as his wedding present.

Oh well, indeed. Here's the Duchess to be having her wedding sandwiched between two funerals. Chuck is definitely going to Monaco.

There isn't going to be little princeling out this union, is there? What an awful thought.

Cheerz...Bwana

_____________________________________________________________________________

This is the kind of comment one might expect on April 1, All Fools Day. But, even the April fool can fool us with some serious terminations.

Frank Perdue, the poultry magnate, crossed the road to the other side today. Rumor has it that he knocked on the Pearly Gates and Gabriel, ever playful, gave a toot on his trumpet and asked: "Hey Frankie, why'd you cross the road?"

Perdue might have asked "Have I made it to the other side?" However, St. Peter showed up and said "Hurry up Frank, this is getting to be a busy time. You better go get fitted for your wings."

Perdue moaned: "You're not serious, are you? I mean, you're not going to fit ME with WINGS?" Cluck, cluck.

And so it goes. A genius, the man was. He branded chickens. No mean feat. As he said, "it takes a strong nose to smell chicken shit all day."

I won't dwell on the passing of Terri Schiavo, but she is probably also admitted, an innocent manipulated by parents, husband, media and all, including sleazy politicians.

The Reverend Jerry Fatswell, was also said to have had breathing difficulties. Doctors seeking to do a tracheostomy type of procedure made another slit in his recturm so that this creator of the feral majority could breathe and talk at the same time. There's not much danger of his meeting Frank Perdue.

Prince Rainier of Monaco is gravely ill and his health said to be in precarious condition. I don't know that he did any particular good ... or bad. But they had good stamps, Monaco did.

Then, of course, there is the Pope. I am not a Catholic but I must say that despite my disagreement with his politics, I have been impressed by his piety, courage and pacific suffering. It does strike me, however, that his condition has worsened even as people pray for him. I suppose one has to be careful who is chosen to pray for one.

The near dead include Maurice "Hank" Greenberg, CEO of AIG. It is astounding that this man who was worth some $3 billion could not resist the impulse to cheat and steal. The WSJ has a story on him today. Two anecdotes bear mention. He would have meetings with AIG executives who were made to sit at the conference table without water or refreshments while he was served hot tea from a porcelain teapot by his butler. Also, in the corporate jet, executives were to use the small pilots' toilet at the front of the aircraft. The fancy bathroom in the back was reserved for Greenberg, his wife and his dog.

One of his sons was forced out of Marsh for bid rigging. The father's company was also accused of bid rigging. The other son heads Ace Group, another insurer also accused of bid rigging in the same scheme. The three played golf together according press reports. So, what do you think they discussed? Whether tea should be served at company meetings? Or, perhaps, whether the executive should be treated at least as well as the dog in terms of getting the proverbial key to the executive poop room? Was Warren Buffett the fourth or did he just not hear them yell "FORE!"?

Genetic stupidity.

Finally, President Bush's plan for Social Security seems to have been given its last rites by the last (and perhaps first but not Frist) of the Rights in Congress. Speaker Dennis Hasturd pronounced it dead by saying that there was no chance it would pass this year.

On the other hand, spring is springing. Baseball has its Opening Day on Sunday when the players, steroids or not, will try to let it RIP.

R.I.P.


Cheerz....Bwana.

__________________________________________________________________________________