'Doing my very official: throw-the-bums-out stance, and look at me improving my carbon footprint by just looking out my window. Know what I can see? --

It's hot. Waaaay hotter that it used to be. Somethings not right, and I don't need a stack of science facts to know we are going in the wrong direction. It's so hot I feel like lining up all those stupid turds that say global warming is a myth and bitch slapping the shit heads with my very high air conditioning bill and my right carbon foot print.

But,

I'm a a man of peace...what I really don't understand is anyone with children that has decided to sit this one out, really? -- while the planets continues to cook and burn...way to set an example for all the little ones.

'New arguments among Scientists suggests the reason humans have bigger brains (then say other less brainy animals) has much-to-do with the fact that we smartly came out of the trees to go hunting on the coast finding a ready supply of DHA in fish.

Color Matters: Another study on old folks found that seniors who ate the most colorful produce maintained better memories as they got older;

just adding an extra serving of vegetables was all it took to retain the thinking ability of someone five years younger.

'Seeing a pattern here?

I am.

In the past I've talked on here how I'm slowly embracing a more Mediterranean Lifestyle (just click on the tags for older stories). But, it's so refreshing to learn even more how --

what goes in your body

also effects the mind.

'Getting old sucks, more so if you're Mel Gibson where your dirty laundry has being left out there in steaming pile, leaving so many wanting to spank his dirty tush-y. No, this isn't going to be a love letter to 'ol Mel. Even if I weren't a Latino, or in Mel's eyes just another “wetback" he'd still be a really hard one to defend.

The words to that "When I'm 64" Beatles song makes some sense here

'goes something like: "When I get older losing my hair..." -- or in Mel's case when he hits the wall so hard, losing his looks. Wow, what to do then?

'Thinking about that Chris Rock rant on O.J. Simpson: "I'm not saying he should have killed her... but I understand." -- and while I don't think Mel Gibson has killed anyone just yet, there is the part of Mel's meltdown that I do understand: It's how he simplified his sex life.

Stay with me here, I might be doing a little walking on the edge here...

'Never made it in with the popular kids clique back in High School. I think growing up we all have a sad version of that Mean Girls flick from our past as we were trying to find our way in the world -- (and screw you all that made it "in" with the popular kids...I hate you all). Where are all those popular kids now?

I gotta believe I'm a much better person for not having been all in that cool-kid-Kool-aid clique.

Which brings me to this idea kicking against the walls over with the good folks at Yahoo news: they will introduce a news blog that will rely on search queries to help guide its reporting and writing on national affairs, politics and the media.

So, let's say one dark day all those really popular trendy searches for severe jock itch pop up. Will that get us a handful of news stories on dealing with severe jock itch?

Let's scratch that around the 'ol noggin a bit.

'Really? -- 'count to ten, breathe in slowly, and then exhale. 'gonna try to keep my cool here.

Take a letter Maria, address it to my wife, the New York Post (and others):

I know the big ugly oil spill isn't the New York Post's idea of front page news, they think sex and sluts -- yeah, that's what people want to see.

Here's how the New York Post rolls: 'just stick any stripped-down-to-her-bra-and-panties Madonna-wannabee all over your the front page (in bold fonts). Stir in a little fake outrage over giving some folks the finger, and it's all --

fun, fun, fun.

'Lady Gaga was no lady at Citi Field...' -- duh, she's an attention whore.

I do get it, in tough economic times we throw soft balls at people to distract them from any of the real issues that should be on the news.

But, how can you really dare call yourself a newspaper? Why not call it what it is: when the shit hits the fan -- or the oil spills into the gulf -- we like to go gaga over any stripped down bra and panties singer...I'd be fine with that. Stupid Trash sells a lot better than gushing oil.

A little honesty goes a long way.