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The affection of TPR's gracious hostess for rodents has brought to mind a bizarre incident that I experienced about six or seven years ago. I was spending the long President's Day weekend with a buddy on the beautiful Monterey Peninsula. He was giving a talk at the Steinbeck Center in Salinas, and it was my birthday that weekend, so we decided to tool around Monterey, eating good seafood, drinking good beer, and enjoying a classic "guy's weekend." We decided to check out Carmel's Seventeen Mile Drive (a road so cool you have to spend good money just to drive on it). This road goes through the famous Pebble Beach golf course and offers some spectacular views of the Pacific. It was a mild, sunny day, perfect for sightseeing. Little did we know the horror that lay in store. After stopping at the golf course for a brief continental lunch (that is, two Guinesses and a bag of Doritos), we tooled on to a scenic spot called (I think) the "Angry Seas," where the blue Pacific slams into the rocks, sending plumes of water twenty or thirty feet into the air. Quite a sight, even if the seas aren't especially pissed off about anything. This spot was also the home, it seemed, of about twenty or thirty squirrels, who were just hanging around the parking lot, looking for crumbs. Or Doritos, as it turned out. When we arrived, these adorable little rodents were just sort of milling around randomly. Or perhaps not so randomly. Well, we climbed out of our rental car, and the squirrels seemed to take no notice of our presence. That is, until I pulled out the bag of Doritos, which now contained only crumbs, for disposal in a trash can. The squirrels stopped their random milling. They all snapped to attention on their hind legs, their beady little eyes looking first at me, then at the bag. It was like stepping into an old cartoon, and rather unsettling, to say the least. I could hear little squeaky voices in my head, shouting in unison, "FOOD!" One bold rodent trotted right up to me, reared back on its hind legs, and tugged at my pants leg. "Gimme! Gimme!" it seemed to say. I stood there, slack jawed. The other squirrels still stood at attention, like soldiers on review. My buddy was equally startled, but recovered his composure first: "For God's sake, give them the crumbs!" I dumped out the bag, and as the crumbs settled to the ground, the squirrel soldiers broke ranks, swarming the precious Dorito bits like ravenous orcs in The Lord of the Rings. I retreated to the trash can to throw away the now empty bag. The lead squirrel followed, and kept tugging at my pants leg. "More? More?" "Let's head for the beach," my buddy said, as he slowly backed toward the ocean. We clambered down the rocks, which were lined with squirrels, standing at attention, staring at us as we left. We wandered along the shore for fifteen minutes, working up our courage to return to the rental car, where I fully expected to see the little critters waiting in ambush. "Gimme! Gimme! More? More?" Instead, we made good our escape from this example of what happens when wild animals get a little too dependent on human handouts.

Looks like my summer vacation is in good hands . . .

Thanks for the latest pictures, Jose. Definitely looks like it's worth visiting Animal Kingdom again.

Remember, Robb--bodily dismemberment is the only way to stop the Evil Dead!

^An old advent calendar? Eww, the chocolate in those is usually stale the day you buy it. I still remember getting into Mom's unsweetened baking chocolate when I was a kid--now there was an eye opener.

Hmm--Freud said that there are no accidents, so you're not quite off the hook. EDIT: Then again, Robb is the one who used the phrase "Soren's Big Hot Package." Is his Freudian slip showing?

Soren kissed his own package? What is he, double-jointed or just very limber?

When I was in California over Christmas, I noticed that they sell DLR, two-day park-hopper cards at Safeway. Don't know what the restrictions are, though.

BGW's attendance in '05 was up by about 8 percent, but tourism has been a bit soft around Williamsburg over the last few years. The park actually does about 15 percent of its business (I understand) during Howl-o-Scream in September and October.

And now the site's double posting again.

^Just usin' it as an example, dude. Other parks elsewhere may have similar policies.

I don't care for most of the microwave popcorns, but Newman's Own has a low-sodium, low-fat line that's pretty good. Still, I much prefer popping it on the stove. I have one of those pots with a paddle and crank handle for stirring the corn, so that it pops more evenly and isn't likely to burn. Gives me more control over what I put on the corn, too.

Hmm--seems to me that it would awfully hard to police half-day tickets sold in advance. I suppose they could attach an ankle bracelet with a tracking device to your leg and find you when the half-day is up. All kidding aside, Water Country USA in Williamsburg does discount their tickets after 3:00 (BGW used to, as well, but I'm not sure if this is still their policy).

A hapless tourist discovers the true secret ingredient of sushi.

^I agree--we're more likely to see a new coaster in '07.

We already know that BGW is getting two new shows to replace Imaginque and Irish Thunder. As for the hoped-for announcement, who can say?

Bart: The dead have risen, and they're voting Republican!

I think Big Thunder is the best-looking mountain of the three, but Space has the best ride.

^Actually, they are sneeze guards. Seems that the contractor mixed up the specs of the Maliboomer with those of a salad bar over at Downtown Disney. This is why random riders are dripping in ranch dressing and covered with croutons when exiting the Maliboomer. (You can request a low-carb seat.)

Knott's really lost it for me when they replaced the "Roaring 20s" section with that generic SoCal beach theme. A big chunk of personality was torn away. Chuck "If I owned Knott's, they'd still have the Wacky Soapbox Racers" Campbell

Yeah, don't sweat it, Julie. As I said earlier, if it ain't true, it oughtta be.

When I was growing up, our family referred to Knott's as that creepy "other" park. After our 300-mile trip to southern California from the "bountiful valley," we usually went to Knott's for fried chicken and a bit o' fun (that is, the Mine Train, Log Ride, and the late, lamented Wacky Soapbox Racers). We were ready to head back to the hotel in about two or three hours. I guess the "creepy" part is that we were always there after dark.

Yep, time for a new coaster, now that BGW has a kick-ass dark ride in DarKastle.

There once was this house, you see Suposedly burned by a flaming mousie But it was all just a rumor Spread by folks of good humor But if it ain't true, it oughtta be.

^Sheesh, I haven't been on any in the top ten of this list. Well, Nemesis awaits in June.