Is there anyone more insufferably droning than John Madden on any football telecast? And what did he do to Pat Summerall? The man looks like a wax caricature who's been bending over a hot stove.

My semi-famous daughter Beth made the newspaper again Sunday. They called her in for a photo op and to render an opinion on the condition of a local public softball park. As a high school player and member of a traveling club, she was quoted as saying the fields were like cement. I cautioned her not to be hanging around the city landscaping crews any time soon.

I must be morphing into a somewhat grizzly-like being, seems all I want to do is hibernate in my den these days. Although no grizzly I know of has a recliner and a home theater. Maybe Yogi, but even that's a stretch.

Ever have occasion to be brushed by that feeling of deja vu? I imagine most everyone has. In my case, it's enough to make me a firm believer in things otherworldly.

One of my online music forums has an infrequent, though very popular participant who has tangible powers of juju. We've chatted back and forth a few times and I swear, you could feel the prescense of this girl (let's call her Shelly) right in the room with you.

One time she conducted a friendly seance that had the keyboard crackling with static.

But what really zapped the hair on the back of my head was when another friend and I were discussing Shelly the other night, and I awoke in the morning to find that Shelly herself had left a voice message on my cell phone the previous evening.

I'd never heard from her before. She has a most melodic and soothing voice.

And I'm left to wonder and ponder. I think I need to get her down to New Orleans where she can be amongst others of her kind, the telepathy, the spirit world souls. She is surely about a half level above this particular plain.

And staying on her good side seems like a prudent thing to do.

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