Attendees to Attorney General John Ashcroft's speech at a North Carolina seminary were thrilled by his presentation of an original song entitled "Let the Eagle Soar."
 
At the conclusion of his remarks, the Singing Sheriff proceeded, without stint or let, to treat his audience to his fine baritone/tenor/soprano (say what you will, the cat's got range!)
 
Concern for the public safety precludes recitation of the full text, but a verse or two will convey the general tenor and quality of the work:
 
      "Let the eagle soar,
      Like she's never soared before
 
      ... Soar with healing in her wings,
      As the land beneath her sings:
      'Only god, no other kings!'
 
      ...[This country's] far too young to die.
      You can see it in her eye,
      She's not yet begun to fly."

It evolves that Mr. Ashcroft has a great deal to say about America, and he appears to have gotten it all into this one song. Every time you think he's come to the final verse, by golly, there's another one. The sheer choral volume takes one back to the glad days of childhood song -- in particular "99 Bottles of Beer," and "This is the Song That Never Ends."
 
No one here at Team W was unmoved. One of the more impressionable staffers was overheard to whimper, to no one in particular, "Hold my hand, mommy, I'm scared."
 
All of us understood how he felt.
 
Speaking of the supernatural, alleged Jamaican-born psychic "Miss Cleo." Is up to her tarot in legal trouble. Prosecutors claim the infomercial diva is, somewhat like the Holy Roman Empire, neither psychic, nor Jamaican, nor Miss Cleo. In a related story, racket-busters are beginning to focus on the possibility that "Dick Cheney" is in reality a corporate personification of a secret Enron spin-off. While this clears up the mystery of the small encircled "TM" on all of his photos, it does nothing to explain his invisibility in mirrors.
 
We've become similarly concerned about the tiny "Reg. U.S. Pat. Off." stitched into all of the President's suits. But perhaps we're just being silly.
 
This week we offer, "Fun With Your New Country," a helpful guide for those who have just confessed to their little dog their suspicion that they are no longer in Kansas.
 
Finally this note of social protest: FREE THE ENRON THREE!!! Or five. Or ten. Twenty? One hundred? Oh hell, let 'em all go!
 
Yours, until the red, red robin comes bob-bob-bobbin' along -- and is promptly indicted,
 
Hank