Admit it. You know you've done it. You're loafing in your Laz-Z-Butt lounger in your living room, or compressed between passengers in the middle seat on the Crack o' Dawn flight to East Piddlyborough, or sneaking an on-the-job mini-vacation in the stinky-stall of your workplace pottyroom, when your eyes land on a line of type in the local Balderdash Bulletin you've been drowsily browsing through.

Some subnormal moron did something stunningly stupid today, or said something incredibly enlightened, or offered an ignorant opinion, and it was all prominently preserved in newsprint.

You want to yell at the newspaper. Show it to someone. Vehemently voice your concurrence or your condemnation.

Thank you for considering my request to publish my positions as the Republican candidate for Scott County Attorney. My 30-plus years in practice and 10 years as an Assistant Scott County Attorney prosecuting felony drug cases will guide my actions as county attorney and provide the following to the citizens of Scott County.

Libertarians have long warned that interventionism in foreign affairs inexorably leads to interventionism in domestic policy.

The hallmark of worldwide liberal-blessed Neocon-beloved empire-building is the quaint little idea of preemptive war.

They came, one by one, emerging from unseen offices and workspaces, making their way quietly along the back streets and alleyways of the American enclave known variously as Oz or Wonderland or Washington, DC.

They were the gray, boring, unimposing men and women who inhabit the capital city of the most powerful empire on earth, barely noticed and effectively forgotten. They were known only by their titles: PenPusher, PaperShuffler, Agencycrat, and LowLevel CivilServant.

But they were also the friction-reducing life-prolonging anti-wear multi-viscosity grease that makes the millstone of government grind. They were, in short, the most powerful people on the planet.