Remember the kid from that interminable 1980s commercial whose father caught him using drugs? The father incredulously asked, “Who taught you how to do this stuff?” and the kid responded, “You, alright? I learned it by watching you.”

Well, we are that kid and our government is that drug-using father who doesn’t think that anyone notices his bad habits.

Like most things in Silicon Valley, Apple’s lots are egalitarian; there are no reserved spots for managers or higher-ups. Even if you’re a Porsche-driving senior executive, if you arrive after 10 am, you should be prepared to circle the lot endlessly, hunting for a space.

But there is one Mercedes that doesn’t need to search for very long, and it belongs to Steve Jobs. If there’s no easy-to-find spot and he’s in a hurry, Jobs has been known to pull up to Apple’s front entrance and park in a handicapped space. (Sometimes he takes up two spaces.) It’s become a piece of Apple lore — and a running gag at the company. Employees have stuck notes under his windshield wiper: “Park Different.” They have also converted the minimalist wheelchair symbol on the pavement into a Mercedes logo.

This nation should consider moving to hybrid automobile engines as quickly as possible. Getting 125 miles to the gallon will change the energy calculus dramatically. Similarly, nuclear plants should produce almost all of the nation’s electricity needs. At the moment nuclear plants account for 16.5 percent, albeit oil accounts for about 2.5 percent of electrical production. The source carrying the load for the grid is coal, available within the nation in abundance. Yet every step away from oil dependence, however small, is desirable.

I bet when the Democrats in frustration try and find who set up their primary process so they can blame him, they’ll discover it was a guy with an obviously fake mustache named Rarl Kove.

That magnificent bastard!

After several agonizingly long seconds, we made the turn and blasted toward the Mediterranean. ‘You might want to pull it back,’ Walter suggested. It was then that I noticed I still had the throttles full forward. The plane was flying a mile every 1.6 seconds, well above our Mach 3.2 limit. It was the fastest we would ever fly. I pulled the throttles to idle just south of Sicily, but we still overran the refueling tanker awaiting us over Gibraltar.