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Previous Articles Exposing Hollywood's anti-German agenda I'm not ashamed to be religious or a liberal 'Beat Me with a Stick' Elmo and other great toys Making a difference: why I do what I do Telemarketing ban has ended a great pastime I don't rule the world, and that's fine with me Making the journey from prejudice to understanding There's no comparing genocide and killing geese All that's left is an empty feeling An unrequited love for some really neat words Foster dads offer hands and hearts ... for the time being. Thanksgiving dinner and other forms of ritual madness. Zen and the art of not getting run over by a Mack truck A lifetime of regrets as another year goes down the tubes Reform Party Convention ends in shoot-out Virtual immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be Insider's look at the Republican National Convention turns up many surprises Car Repair for Dummies, Part One: This is a Car Sadness marks the passing of a beloved mattress At last, something worse than 'Jane Eyre' Every town has a story. Tombstone has a fixation. Forget the Trekkies, the real nutcases are on the Luce Chalk one up for the faceless restaurant customers Feeling sick? Maybe it's time to get a shave. Guest Writer: Toto, I don't think we're in Mayberry anymore Guest Writer: The need for speed Does this mean we won't get free popcorn anymore? Out of the way, Martha Stewart -- I'm in the kitchen now How I'm surviving my brush with 'Jane Eyre' First blizzard of the year evokes frivolous memories, no deep thoughts Isn't it time to jump on the bandwagon with the Real Thing? Forward this column and you can turn e-mail into $300! Trips to the moon, disaster figure in mildew prognostications True confessions (more or less) of a closet survivalist Who understands what dreams may come? Hey, everyone, look -- it's an elephant! Wouldn't 'Senator Learn' have a nice ring? To my little girl: while you're sleeping . . . Special Report: Entering the Baby Zone Battling the suburban white whale Wanted: Politician to tackle key issues Something else to worry about this fall Wanted: Dumber Mice and Better Mouse Traps One More Stop on the Road to Adulthood Follow the fashion leads of the journalist from Krypton This is why naming children by committee never caught on Psoriasis may be ugly, but at least it doesn't leave scars Another casualty of the ancient family curse Quest for baby names too big to handle How the seniors taught me to get down And don't forget your scarf when you go inside Guest Writer: No room for Paradise as vandals force Dew Drop Inn to close The samba of the mad Vulcan Maybe I could be directed by Spielberg The aliens in Rhode Island don't want you to read this Voice of nostalgia is a call to destruction My wife is having the baby, but I look pregnant The end of the world as we know it Run for the hills - Y2K’s a’comin’ fast What's in a name? Shakespeare had no idea Don't waste your energy on the 'gas out' Career choice leaves a lasting mark One Easter leftover, hold the ham please

Guest Writer: Toto, I don't think we're in Mayberry anymore By Blair Learn For the past month or so I've been watching reruns of "The Andy Griffith Show" on TVLand. Mayberry must have been a wonderful place to grow up. Everyone knew everyone else, there was a great fishing hole just outside of town, and what few crimes happened, the local Sheriff could solve in less than 30 minutes (with time left over for commercials!). Over the past several years, I've lived and worked in a few towns that were about as far from Mayberry as you could get. In Virginia, I lived on the 15th floor of an apartment building, right along one of the main roads on the outskirts of one of the more "interesting" sections of town. Police cars going by were so common that in less than six months, my parrot, Terry Dactyl, worked out a fair imitation of their sirens. After a year of that, I moved to Maryland. The new apartment was somewhat removed from the main part of town and after a little while Terry stopped imitating sirens and switched to imitating the telephone. (Laugh all you want, but I missed many a phone call because I thought it was the bird ringing.) Then one Friday I came home after spending the evening with friends and found the parking lot full of police cars. As I walked up to my building's door, I wished one of the officers a pleasant evening and casually asked, "Is there something going on I should be alarmed about?" His reply of, "Everything's fine, just go on inside," would have been a lot more reassuring if I hadn't noticed just then that he was carrying a shotgun and one of the other officers was in the process of letting a Police Dog out of his car. Last year, in late February, I became a first-time homeowner. It's too close to "The Big City" to be mistaken for Mayberry, but the neighbors are friendly, the schools are good, and there's very little traffic. It's almost as though somebody took a small slice of Mayberry, updated it for the 21st century, and put it in suburban Maryland. At least, it seemed that way until last Friday morning. When I went downstairs for breakfast that morning, I noticed a rabbit nibbling some of the plants in my garden. I'd already had to replant a few things, so I decided to chase it away before it could do any more damage. My house has a walk-out basement so I headed down the basement stairs, intent on coming out the back door to chase the rabbit out of the garden. But as I came across the floor by the door, I felt something "crunchy" underfoot. When I got to the door, I found that someone had broken the window and may have actually entered the house. They either got scared and left on their own, or else I came home at just the right moment and that scared them off. The important thing is that Terry Dactyl and I are OK. I don't think anything was taken, but I'm still checking. One possible reaction to this event would be for me to run out and buy a bunch of guns, take some half-baked martial arts course (so I can start trashing bozos), turn the house into an armed encampment, and just generally become more of a menace to myself than to any would be intruders. But I don't have time for that. Andy Taylor's stopping by later and then we're going to head out to the fishing hole for a bit. Blair Learn is David's oldest brother and is also responsible for putting this site together. Small wonder then that he gets to submit the occasional article. :-) Permission is given to forward this article, but please leave this notice intact.