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The terrorists won.

And now they know that, at least in Europe, all they have to do to get the government they prefer is to murder civilians.

Yeah, throw the bums out, all of them. Dump Blair, Bush, Howard, all of them. Replace them with leaders who understand that all you have to do to avoid trouble is to give the guys with bombs anything they want. It's simple, and it's proven effective- after all, that's how Neville Chamberlain saved the world, right?

The Spanish voters sent a clear message today. They stand with the murderers. And they'd prefer to capitulate to terrorism than fight to stop it.

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Here's a story from Quebec, courtesy Daimnation!, that reminded me of something that happened to me a long time ago. First, the Canadian story, from the Montreal Gazette:

A former Alliance Quebec president says the Office de la langue française is barking up the wrong tree by complaining about his use of the phrase "Call off your dogs." The Office has asked the Quebec Bar Association to censure Brent Tyler, who last month called on Premier Jean Charest to "call off your dogs" in connection with a case the OLF had taken to court. Tyler insisted he used the common English idiom in the sense of "back off" in reference to the OLF's prosecution of a western Quebec business owner....

But the OLF board takes a more literal interpretation of news reports, including a Presse Canadienne story, about Tyler's remarks. The Journal de Montréal ran the story with the headline: "Brent Tyler calls OLF inspectors dogs"....

OLF spokesman Gérald Paquette insisted the language police are not being oversensitive by isolating the word "dogs" in the metaphor. "In French, the term 'rappeler ces chiens' is very offensive," he said. The board refused to accept Tyler meant the expression in its English colloquial sense, Paquette said. "He may think it's colloquial English, but our board members thought it was offensive, in direct reference to our inspectors."

And now, my story.

I was in my brief law-practice phase and I was assigned to handle a committee meeting for a fairly large town. On that board was a gentleman whose day job was on Wall Street, and he was immediately skeptical of the new lawyer in the room. Throughout the meeting, he was condescending if not downright rude to me, but I kept my mouth shut. Finally, he suggested that the board do something that was, er, shall we say, of questionable propriety, and reasoned that if they got caught, they could always say that they didn't know the law.

"Sorry, you can't do that," I told them, "and even if you did, the court wouldn't accept that excuse. You know the saying. 'Ignorance of the law is no excuse.'"

The guy jumped to his feet. "Are you calling us ignorant?" he shouted. His face was bright red.

"Ah, no, that's the famous axiom. It just means..."

"YOU CALLED US IGNORANT!" He was sweating and red. The others in the room appeared to agree with him.

"I did not call you ignorant. I was explaining the law."

He was not mollified. "You want to fight, we'll fight."

"I don't want to fight, and I didn't call you ignorant."

This went on for a while, and I excused myself at the first opportunity. I quit the law shortly thereafter to go back into radio, and that was one of the reasons- I just didn't need that noise.

And I learned a valuable lesson that night- when someone "misunderstands" what you say, it's not always because they honestly misinterpret what you said. That guy knew what I was saying, and knew I was right. He was all about intimidation, just as the Quebec Francophone language Gestapo knows that "call off the dogs" is a common phrase and doesn't actually mean that they're being "called dogs." It's phony, it's all about taking control, and it works, because nobody seems to want to fight back. I shoulda fought back. I wish I had.

I did a little research on the guy who tried to bully me- I remembered his name- and I discovered that he'd moved to some college as a professor, where he reacted to a harmless online parody of himself by having the local police force confiscate the student's computer. And that wasn't the only incident I found about this guy. "Humorless" was one word used to describe him. I can think of others.

They'd apply to the French language police, too.

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They blow up the Vet Sunday morning.

Actually, they'll be blowing up what's left of Veterans Stadium- my Philadelphia bureau chief (hi, Joe) says they've already dismantled and torn away so much that it's not really going to be like when they, say, implode old Vegas casinos on TV. Everything of note's been carted away, sold, reused, put in storage, dumped.

Dumped. That's a good word. The place WAS a dump. But it was OUR dump. Yes, it was a big concrete circle- actually, when it opened, they said it was an "octorad," not a circle, but that's the only time I've ever heard that term used in any context. It was grimy, and some of the corridors were dark and eerie. The seats were plastic, the grass was plastic, the back of the 300 level couldn't see fly balls, the 700 level was close to heaven- literally- and the overall ambiance was very 1971.

Still gonna miss it.

But only a little. The new place will surely be much nicer, the seats closer, the amenities finer. Besides, I moved- still a Phillies fan, but now I go to Dodger Stadium, Anaheim Edison International Angels Field Stadium at Anaheim, and the new place in San Diego. The Vet was past tense for me anyway.

But then there's this: watching Curt Schilling shut down Toronto and forcing a game 6 in the '93 series. Being there when Juan Samuel hit his first major league homer, on a Puerto Rico Day afternoon when the National Anthem singer forgot the words, keeping one eye on the upper deck for flying batteries the night J.D. Drew was supposed to be making his first appearance in Philadelphia, watching the Phillies sweep the Mets one October when the hated New Yorkers showed up needing to win only one at the Vet to clinch the dicision, watching Philadelphia's finest pound the hell out of some drunk New York fans in the 700 level that same weekend, seeing the Eagles pull one out against the Redskins (the only NFL game I've ever seen in person, believe it or not), watching someone dump an entire box of ticket flyers from the upper deck onto the field at a Stars USFL game...

...Aah, blow it up. We have our memories. They're better than the real thing now.

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I'm on the road again tonight, another red eye. Vegas has the likelihood of my getting any sleep at all on the plane at 20 to 1.

In the meantime, one brief observation- there's a fundamental difference between the European and American reactions to terrorism, at least the Spanish/French/German reaction and the Bush reaction. You know what that is, but the new Spanish leader made it explicit:

In the hourlong interview Wednesday on Onda Cero radio, Zapatero said that "fighting terrorism with bombs ... with Tomahawk missiles, isn't the way to defeat terrorism....

"Terrorism is combatted by the state of law. ... That's what I think Europe and the international community have to debate,'' he said.

Someone walks up to you and punches you in the mouth. What do you do?

Spain surrenders. France surrenders. America hits back, hits everything in sight, pounds away and keeps pounding until there's no chance they'll hit back ever again.

I'll go with the American way on that one. You go ahead and treat terrorists the way you treat common burglars if you want. Bombs and missiles make a lot more sense to me. Anything else rewards the terrorists and emboldens them to do it again. And that's the gift Spain's given the world this week.

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Made it across the country relatively unscathed. I was lucky- for the first time in ages, the middle seat was empty, meaning I could prop myself against the raised armrest and sleep a little. Unfortunately, the row behind me was occupied by a family- a young couple and their four brats- and there was constant screaming throughout the night.

"Dadddddeeeee! DADDDEEEE!" A complaint per minute, all night long, and daddddeeee and mommmmeeeee weren't interested in doing anything to shut their progeny up. I did complain, but the guy just kept saying "what?" and wouldn't respond otherwise. I gave up- I did get about two and a half hours' worth of sleep, which is two and a half hours more than I'd gotten in the last few red eyes I've taken.

On the way off the plane, I heard mommmmmeeeee tell the kids "you were VERY well behaved." I shot her a look. She scowled back. And at the rental van stop, I saw her commandeer an Alamo bus and make the driver wait- with a full bus of passengers- while daddddeeeeee and the kids got the bags from the carousel. As I left on another van, she was still holding the Alamo bus. Inconsiderate is an understatement. Let's hope they're not on the return flight.

But I made it here, I'm working away at a Starbucks, and it's sunny and warm. Complaint mode is off (if you want to be cute, ).

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Jayson Blair's book is tanking. Nobody's buying it.

This appears to be surprising to many members of the press, but not to me. Media people find their industry endlessly fascinating; they'll spend hours on Romanesko, wading through countless letters about the latest controversy (The New York Post printed a picture of a suicide jumper! Gasp! Some TV stations stupidly aired a White House EPK as a real story! Eek!). And that's typical- after all, I write for a radio industry trade site, and we have our radio-centric audience. But the difference is this- radio people realize that nobody who's not in the business cares about our internal affairs. Newspaper people think everyone cares about theirs.

The Blair story's just not registering with the public beyond the general perception that the New York Times has lost its way and prints untruths. But ask most people who Jayson Blair is and what he did, and you get a blank, or maybe a guess that he used to play centerfield for the Orioles (wrong Blair) or is on trial for shotgunning a chauffeur (wrong Jayson). Bottom line: nobody cares, nobody wants to read about it, it's a non-topic for the general public. As much of a bodyblow as this may be to the collective ego of newspaperdom, you can't make people care, no matter how many "Today" show interviews you get.

"Burning Down My Master's House"? Burn away. Nobody will even bother to call the fire department.

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A conservative in Berkeley.

A Jew in Riyadh.

A Cowboys fan in Philadelphia.

A fifth seed in the NCAA tournament.

Two for four this year. Providence just got upset by Pacific. And the less said about the Florida Gators, the better.

Could be worse- could be the NIT. But those 5-12 games are always bracket busters. Good thing I didn't join a pool this year.

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You lose weight, you keep in shape. You run marathons, and when you find your energy flagging, you go out and invent an energy bar that makes you millions. You do everything right.

And then you suddenly drop dead of a heart attack at 51.

And Keith Richards lives.

Might as well crack open another Schlitz, Bubba.

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