Thoughts in the afterglow of hot asphalt

   I spent the morning out in the field, searching for the "hottest" jobs in town for a Sunday feature.  (It's 92 degrees already, and it's only noon, by the way.)  I interviewed a roofer, a house painter, a farmer and an asphalt layer, who was shoveling (as we spoke) molten asphalt onto a new entrance ramp on the Interstate. Did you know that asphalt is 300 degrees?  It can melt the soles off shoes. No joke. Not that anything about that is remotely funny.
  Back at my desk, mini fan blasting, I scanned the news to find - to my utter surprise and horror - Bristol Palin is marrying her baby daddy, Levi Johnston. And Sarah Palin may have been the last to know.  I have no words.  Fortunately, my brilliantly snarky friend, Carol Starr Schneider (aka Short Jewish Gal) has plenty of them.
   Then, a 4th tape recording of Mel Gibson has apparently surfaced - this one more horrifying than the last.  Understatement of the day (from Mel's surprisingly cool and calm wife): "You need medication."  Hmm, ya think?
   There's nothing understated about John Daly who wore a technicolor dreamcoat to a photo shoot of past British Open winners yesterday....

  (And, of course, that's me in the photo at the top.  I always cool down with scotch on the rocks.)