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We went to the San Diego Wild Animal Park today- my sister's in town and she'd never gone there, and, I don't know, I guess we all felt that going to a place filled with wild animals on a 90 degree day would make some sense.

Do you know of any other place where the distinct odor of fecal matter is not just accepted but expected? I mean, besides a bathroom or a Detroit Tigers game? You step past the turnstile, that smell hits you, and instead of turning and running and gagging, you think, yep, I'm at the zoo, all right.

At least you're too far from the gorillas to have any flung at you.

Anyway, I decided to take a picture of my sister every time she emerged from the restroom. Needless to say, she was perturbed. And I realized that, well, here we are, adults now, decades removed from childhood, yet when we're together, we revert to our former selves, ranking on each other, pulling pranks, being goofy kids.

I missed that.

Sometimes, it's good to remind yourself of the part of you that you put away when the jobs and the mortgages and the marriages and the responsibilities took over. Hey, look, 13 year old Perry and 15 year old Joan are back, calling each other rude names by the flamingo pond and telling embarrassing stories involving bodily functions over lunch.

Welcome back, kids.

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We went to the San Diego Wild Animal Park today- my sister's in town and she'd never gone there, and, I don't know, I guess we all felt that going to a place filled with wild animals on a 90 degree day would make some sense.

Do you know of any other place where the distinct odor of fecal matter is not just accepted but expected? I mean, besides a bathroom or a Detroit Tigers game? You step past the turnstile, that smell hits you, and instead of turning and running and gagging, you think, yep, I'm at the zoo, all right.

At least you're too far from the gorillas to have any flung at you.

Anyway, I decided to take a picture of my sister every time she emerged from the restroom. Needless to say, she was perturbed. And I realized that, well, here we are, adults now, decades removed from childhood, yet when we're together, we revert to our former selves, ranking on each other, pulling pranks, being goofy kids.

I missed that.

Sometimes, it's good to remind yourself of the part of you that you put away when the jobs and the mortgages and the marriages and the responsibilities took over. Hey, look, 13 year old Perry and 15 year old Joan are back, calling each other rude names by the flamingo pond and telling embarrassing stories involving bodily functions over lunch.

Welcome back, kids.

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The post that previously appeared in this space has been deleted. The item was intended as opinion and did not intend to imply any criminal activity or other wrongdoing by the law firm of Glaser • Jenkins LLP and/or the plaintiffs in the Ladies’ Night discrimination case, Alfred Rava and Steven Surrey; to the best of my knowledge, no criminal or actionable activity has been engaged in by any of the parties, and no such implication was intended or should be inferred from the item. Further information about the lawsuits and the plaintiffs’ position in the case can be obtained through Erik Jenkins, Esq. at (858) 812-5614.

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Today's Newsday had a story about a school bus driver arrested for DUI:

A bus driver who was on his way to pick up children at a summer camp in Nissequogue was arrested Tuesday on a charge of drunken driving, Suffolk police said. Police spotted William Kennedy, 51, of 199B Newcastle Ct., Ridge, "weaving from lane to lane," as he headed west on the Long Island Expressway, Highway Patrol Captain Dennis Caine said.

Let me tell you about Kindly Old Mr. Bates.

Kindly Old Mr. Bates was the driver of the school bus I rode to day camp when I was very young. My sister and I would be shuttled from home to West Paterson and back on this bus, about a 20 minute ride each way.

It was 20 minutes of sheer terror.

Here's how Kindly Old Mr. Bates (he had to be pushing 70 at the time, which would make him just about dead by now) drove his route: at high speed, faster on extremely winding country lanes, He took corners at around 50 mph that you'd be afraid to go around at 25 in your car. He accelerated down hills until, I swear, sparks flew off the chassis. If a road was straight, he'd weave. And he created his own roads.

No, really. There was a new neighborhood up at the top of a hill. You had to drive way around the back of the hill from the main road, then drive up the only paved, graded road to the new homes. That's the route Kindly Old Mr. Bates took to get to those houses. That's not how he got back to the main road. Instead, he'd drive the bus straight past the barricades at the end of the road, drive right off the road, and take the bus down an incredibly steep hill. No road, just rocks. There wasn't even a dirt path worn into the hillside. He MADE his own path. At about 60 mph. Facing down.

With a busful of little kids, including us.

I really don't know why we didn't blow the whistle on Kindly Old Mr. Bates. We knew he was driving like a maniac. We knew he was probably well-lubricated. We should have said something. But we were kids. We didn't.

If I had kids today, I'd drive. Slowly.

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Arnold's running.

I don't really know what to say about it, because he's really an unknown quantity- you're really voting for an image, not policy. You'll be hearing two trains of thought about this, the "this is an embarrassment to California" strain and the "just like Reagan" thread. Neither is apt. I don't think that, even if he's elected, having this guy as Governor is more embarrassing than, say, Gov. Jesse Ventura or Rep. Gopher or Congressman Cooter. And in each of those cases, there was nothing illegitimate about their tenures, however successful or disappointing. They're just guys. So is Arnold. He's also no Reagan, as far as we can tell. For one thing, it's not as easy to understand what he's saying. For another, Arnold's a real Hollywood star who's only dabbled in politics, Reagan a journeyman actor (and, after a strong start, a disappointment consigned to hosting TV western anthologies) who dove deeply into politics decades before he ran for Governor.

So this is really a case of first impression. What will really be interesting is if Gray Davis uses his deep pockets and considerable dirty-campaigning experience to try and attack/smear Schwarzenegger, which is almost a lock to happen. I don't know that you can damage Arnold Schwarzenegger with that kind of thing, but we're about to find out.

Politics as spectator sport. Pull up a chair, grab some popcorn and Twizzlers, and enjoy the fireworks.

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Plug: watch "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" early Friday morning (12:35 am ET/PT) and enjoy a set by the comic genius Greg Behrendt, then go to gregbehrendt.com and buy his new standup CD "Uncool," which a) is hysterically funny, and b) thanks me on the CD cover, my second such shout-out (the first: The Regular Guys' "American Beauties"). Meanwhile, if you watch Jimmy Kimmel that night instead, look carefully at the audience and you may see me. It's kind of like a "Where's Waldo" of the TV world.

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Almost midnight. It's almost midnight, and I realize I can't do what I used to do, which was stay out late- yes, for me 11:45 is late- without uncontrollable yawning. I was, as mentioned yesterday, over at Jimmy Kimmel's show (in the green room, not the audience- the green room there rules so much the L.A. Times ran a story about it being the in place for celebrities to hang), and after all that, my head is a little... light.

This is when I remember I'm not 21 anymore. There's a limit to my stamina, and this, unfortunately, is it. Which is a particularly convoluted way of saying look, I'm too tired, I'll talk to you tomorrow. And that's what I'm gonna do. 'Night.

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No entries this weekend- too annoyed, too busy. I'd explain, but I'll let you speculate and move on. Let it suffice to say... grrrrrrrrrr.

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