HOME ALONE: So Eileen is off to Paris for eight days. Wow! Good for her. She and her high school girlfriends are celebrating their 40th birthdays and their long-running friendship.

Meanwhile I've got both of the boys fed, clean, and sleeping. I've got a glass of good Zinfandel. And I'm about to watch my love/hate show, REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHER.

Leading up to the Maher show, there was some horrific ad for an upcoming George Carlin special. Great. Like I need to see a grumpy, insane old coot talking down to me for an hour. If I wanted that I'd just tune in to CHARLIE ROSE.

Here's Maher now, waltzing out to greet his adoring crowd. Good lord. Bush may be dumb, Cheney may be a liar, but somehow I can't muster the same dislike for them as I can for snotty liberals like Maher. Prolly 'cause I used to be like Maher. It's like an ex-smoker thing. Just can't stand the smell of it anymore.

Uh oh. Mikey is mumbling and such in the next room. For the love of God, stay down boy. Daddy is off duty for the night.