I needed money 'cause I had none, I fought the law and the law won

FEB. 12, 2013: Our tax dollars at work:

In 2008 during an animal cruelty investigation at the Jefferson County animal shelter, Sheriff John Burns ($89,534) wanted to bring criminal charges against County Administrator Robert Hagemann III ($126,376), alleging he intimidated a witness and committed official misconduct.

District Attorney Cindy Intschert ($119,341) took the sheriff's report and promptly threw it away.

Now that we have those friendships established, let's fast forward to 2012.

* Deputy Shaun Cuddeback ($82,162) accidentally drove his car into a firefighter working at an accident scene. The driver has since sued the county.

* Deputy Jamie Taylor ($67,121) drove his car into a hydrant in the town of Pamelia, and the town has sent the county an $8,000 bill for replacing the hydrant.

* Deputy Krystal Rice ($66,112) sued the county over topless photos taken of her by Detective Steven Cote ($66,036) for a proposed online pedophile investigation. The decision to have a male detective take provocative photos of a female deputy was approved by recently retired Lt. Michael Peterson ($71,045).

* Deputy Mark Kellogg ($58,191) was suspended after being accused of punching someone at a bar.

* Jail nurse Tammy Hitchman ($26,390) resigned after being accused of violating federal law for accessing health files at Samaritan Medical Center for personal use.

* Deputy James Randall ($60,640) was suspended for fraternizing with a woman who has a criminal record.

* Recently retired Undersheriff Andrew R. Neff ($70,512), who investigated Randall's activities, is under state police investigation for allegedly doing the same thing with another woman who has an even longer rap sheet.

* Deputy Adam Hallett ($68,285) was found passed out in a county vehicle by Deputy Matthew Vaughn ($79,065), who removed a half-consumed bottle of alcohol from the vehicle and threw it away.

* Also arriving on the scene that night was Sgt. Victor Rodriguez ($80,668), who did not remind/suggest/tell/order Vaughn to bring Hallett in for a blood-alcohol content test.

* Intschert, despite the seriousness of the allegations being made against law enforcement officers, delegated a review of the actions by Hallett, Vaughn and Rodriguez to Assistant District Attorney Kristyna Mills ($85,238). Mills never told Burns to either file destruction of evidence charges against Vaughn — and maybe Rodriguez — or she would ask Intschert to file the charges herself. Mills never told Burns that if he didn't act immediately he would be facing obstruction of justice charges.

* Throughout all of this, the county legislature has been divided, with some members wanting to investigate the sheriff's department, some members not wanting to investigate the sheriff's department and some members wanting the world to stop so they can get off. Still, last month they jelled into a group that ordered county attorney David Paulsen ($103,130) to find someone to investigate the sheriff's handling of the Hallett case. After a week of research Paulsen suggested asking the state Attorney General's office to do it, which at this point ensures no action will continue to be taken.

That is until budget time, when everyone will get a pay raise.

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following speech was given Feb. 6, 2013 at the American Red Cross’s Real Heroes Breakfast. The event was organized by Jane G. Gendron, chapter executive of the American Red Cross of Northern New York.

Before I begin today, I need to tell you the truth: I have never been so honored and yet so humiliated at the same time in all my life.

Now, I AM honored to be here today for having donated blood to the American Red Cross for more than 30 years — obviously, donating blood is important to me. And I am always encouraging others to donate blood, too.

Donating blood, I tell people, is the lazy man’s way of saving a life.

For me it generally consists of walking across the street to the Dulles State Office Building, lying down on a padded table and trying not to fall asleep out of sheer boredom. Ten minutes later, it’s needle in, needle out and they’ve got what they need from me.

I then walk over to a table, sit down and eat a package of Lorna Doone cookies, usually two. Then I down a small box of apple juice before triumphantly walking the 100 yards back to my office to spend the rest of the afternoon irritating my staff.

And yet here on my day of celebration for donating more than 11 gallons of blood, look at what Jane Gendron has done to me. She has dragged me out in public to sit with a bunch of people who, when they save a life, actually break a sweat.

Today you are meeting people who have run into burning buildings, sailed off into stormy seas, and let a doctor cut out their kidney.

And then there is me:

“Thank you for donating blood today. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Yes, ma’am … can I have another package of Lorna Doones, please?”

It’s humiliating. And I will tell you something, Jane Gendron: There’s only one thing keeping me from walking out that door right now. And that’s the fact that this is no time for us to have a divided community regarding our nonprofits. This is no time for us not to stand together behind the American Red Cross.

Now I am not going to tell you that there should be panic in the streets. But I will tell you that the Huns are at the gates and the wolves are at the door. We now live in a society in which everybody thinks all services should be available to all people at all times at a moment’s notice. And yet too many of those same people are doing nothing in their personal lives to ensure these services are indeed available.

I blame that bumper sticker: “Commit random acts of kindness.” Don’t get me wrong, I like random acts of kindness, and there is certainly nothing more random than running into a burning building to save a life or giving a kidney to your brother.

But the American Red Cross cannot exist if our community’s response to it is random.

I’ve been in the news business a long time, so let me tell you how it works: We write stories about airplanes that crash; we don’t write stories about airplanes that land safely. And so most people only think about, talk about and read about the Red Cross when there is a disaster. And then half the stories are about whether the Red Cross did a good job or a bad job responding to the disaster.

But the Red Cross’s success story is not just about disaster response; it’s about disasters averted. It’s about the college student working at Westcott Beach who sees a swimmer in trouble and responds immediately — because he took the Red Cross’s lifeguard course — and so nothing really bad happens; it’s about the Adams teenager who sees a child in trouble and responds immediately — because she completed the Red Cross’s baby-sitting course — and so nothing really bad happens. And it’s about the Clayton waitress who sees a diner choking and immediately uses the Heimlich maneuver — because she took the Red Cross’s CPR course — and so nothing really bad happens.

And that’s the conundrum for the Red Cross. When it is at its best, the Red Cross is about the stories none of us will ever read in the newspaper.

Today’s event is a celebration of random acts of kindness, and let’s be blunt: had it not been for the acts of some of the people in this room we would have printed a few more obituaries in the paper last year.

But it is also a day for our community to renew its commitment to the Red Cross; to respond not randomly, but with resiliency. To respond not randomly, but resourcefully. To respond not randomly, but relentlessly. And by so doing our response to the Red Cross will not be random but routine.

To that end let us make a financial commitment to the Red Cross; let us speak words of encouragement throughout the year to the staff, board of directors and volunteers. And then let’s pledge to be ambassadors for the Red Cross, reminding those we meet that the Red Cross is here not because some faceless, nameless bureaucrat in Washington, D.C., declared it so. But rather, the Red Cross and the services it provides are here because the local chapter is where the rubber meets the road.

And today, I pledge to also do my part to support the Red Cross, which means I will swallow my pride, what’s left of it, and extend my congratulations to my fellow honorees. And just to prove there are no hard feelings, for having you all show me up this year, I would like to give each of our honorees a gift of appreciation — a commemorative box of Lorna Doone cookies.

And as for everyone else here today … if you want Lorna Doone cookies, go give blood.

Thank you.

You had to have the last word, last night, you're so much fun to be around; You had to have the front page, bold type, you had to be a big shot last night!

DEC. 12, 2012: Several weeks ago I was asked to speak today during the annual Christmas program for the Watertown Noon Rotary Club and provide a message of hope and inspiration.

Naturally, I began to think about the beauty and mysteries of Christmas traditions, which led me to think about the Christmas traditions that were so important to the Gorman family as I was growing up in Muskegon, Mich.

But after two weeks of thought, I had nothing. And then reality struck me… my family didn't have any Christmas traditions. We only had Christmas Standard Operating Procedures.

We had to. My parents had eight kids. And while we all know that back in the day, God spoke a word and brought order out of chaos, we also know that children –- especially when there are a lot of them –- spend much of their time trying to undo the handiwork of our Creator.

It was no secret that our neighbors never saw the eight of us as “those charming children next door.” Some neighbors –- especially those who had wimped out and only had one or two kids — referred to the Gorman 8 as either the Mongol horde, the Seven-Year Locust or –- on occasion — the Scourge of God.

My long-suffering parents knew that no matter what they created, what they bought, what they fixed or what they enhanced, all would be destroyed. Maybe not immediately, but most certainly eventually. Getting your hopes up after a week because the newly purchased coffee table still had no gouges in it was nothing more than vanity. We did not know the hour nor the day, but we all knew that gouge was a' coming.

Christmas morning was the same way. No matter what my parents did to make our living room look festive and magical, 10 minutes after the eight of us showed up, the place looked like it had been ransacked by Somali pirates.

Our first Christmas Standard Operating Procedure was that “no child may come downstairs until the parents call for you.” This rule gave my parents the chance to get some coffee, sit down to admire what they had done, maybe even take a picture.

But each year, their routine was causing more consternation for the horde. Our family often went to midnight Mass. After we came home and all the kids were in bed, my parents would stay up to wrap presents. Who knows when they finally got to sleep? Naturally, they were in no hurry to get up early Christmas morning and release the hounds of hell.

And so there we children were every Christmas morning. Six o'clock, seven o'clock, eight o'clock. Waiting for the call that would come around 8:30. Half of us lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, the other half lying in bed and staring up at the bottom of a top bunk.

The call would then come and in 10 minutes it was over. And then the second Christmas Standard Operating Procedure took place. The four oldest kids went about the room picking up every piece of scrap wrapping paper and bringing them to my mother, who would flatten out each piece, one at a time, and then put them in a trash bag.

Yes, it would have been quicker to have the kids throw the scraps away themselves, but my parents knew that in our general enthusiasm to finish any chore quickly and with as little thought and care as possible, we might accidentally throw away a newly opened toy. Or a younger sibling.

To tell you the truth, I don't remember any Christmas gift I ever received as a child. Of course, if you wolf down a fine meal, you won't remember much about that either.

The only Christmas I remember is this one:

In 1967 my parents decided to host a foreign exchange student, a practice they continued on and off for about 30 years. Alejandro, or Jano, was from Mexico City. He was my age and we were supposed to hang out together. But we just didn't have much in common and looking back, we were never very tight.

But there he found himself in our home on Christmas morning, sitting in a corner chair in the living room, staying out of the way and watching the wolf pack at work. My parents got him a couple of small presents and so he was finished opening his gifts long before everyone else.

When it was over and the scrap-gathering was about to start, I noticed he was still sitting in the chair in the corner with a detached, far-away look on his face. He was 15 years old and 2,300 miles away from his parents. He knew what Christmas was supposed to be and this sure wasn't it.

“So, Jano,” my dad suddenly blurted out. “How do you like Christmas in America?”

“It is fine,” Jano forced himself to say.

“Well, you have another present,” my dad said, “but we couldn't fit it under the tree.”

The horde had no idea what my dad was talking about. The room grew silent. Then around the corner and down the hallway, we could hear a bedroom door open. Then we heard footsteps. And into the living room walked a young man, around 20 years old, wearing pajamas and a bathrobe.

And then Jano shrieked. He shot out of the chair and ran into the arms of this stranger and began to weep uncontrollably.

After what seemed like a minute with all of us watching in uncomfortable confusion, my dad said matter-of-factly, “This is Jorge, Jano's older brother. He goes to school in Chicago. Their parents asked if we could get them together for Christmas.”

Looking back my parents were probably like most parents. Through examples large and small they were trying to teach us that Christmas was not about the presents under the tree, but the presents that don't fit under a tree: renewal, redemption, forgiveness.

I can still hear my father say, well, more like bark: “If someone needs help, don't say to the person 'let me know if you need anything,' because the person will never ask for help. You just start helping them.”

And I can still see my mother's living example that even though there were 10 of us, there was always room at the table for one more.

Some of us are waiting for New Year's Day to resolve to be the person we want to be – the person we should be. But why wait? Don't most of us already have a running start by Christmas morning? Haven't we just spent most of December sincerely wishing each other peace and good will? Haven't we spent more time this month talking about widows who need visiting, deployed soldiers who need adopting and battered children who need protecting?

We can wait for January, but the truth is we will never be as close to the heart of God as we are today.

Hey, wait a second... maybe the Gormans DO have a Christmas tradition after all!

Thank you and Merry Christmas.

A gathering of angels appeared above my head. They sang to me this song of hope and this is what they said: They said, “Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me.”

NOV. 19, 2012: With regard to the recent unpleasantness, also known as the 2012 presidential election, I would like to reiterate my long-held position regarding our two major political parties: A pox on all their houses.

To recap: Some Republicans are nasty and mean, which is not new news. The late William F. Buckley spent portions of the 1950s and 1960s successfully excising the Hateraid-drinking John Birch Society from GOP fund-raising cocktail parties. As we were occasionally reminded this year by some Republicans themselves, this slog goes on.

And some Democrats, who believe their cocktail parties are pure because they drink their booze while saying they want to end poverty, are just as nasty and mean. This year they spent most of their campaign money not on ending poverty but by relentlessly declaring that all Republicans are nasty and mean.

I do not mind anyone voting for the candidate of either major political party. But unless you are on the party payroll, how could you do it with relish? Our political parties never take the high road if the low road is open for business.

Through bailouts, stimulus plans, PILOTs and tax breaks to locate in a specific place, hire a vet or pledge to reduce one's carbon footprint, both major political parties have created a haze and maze in which Americans are divided into two camps: those who spend most of their time trying to figure out how to avoid giving more money to government, and those trying to figure out how to increase the amount of money government gives them.

And I speak with the voice of authority. As I near the age of retirement, I find my positions evolving from one extreme to the other, particularly with regard to our laws restricting immigration and certain drugs. Regardless of what anyone has ever heard me say or write over the years, let it now be known that I am in favor of the words “amnesty” and “legalization.”

Simply put, Social Security is just about bankrupt, and the only way to ensure I get any money is for my country tis of thee to immediately start taxing Mexicans and marijuana.

All in favor, say “aye.”

The motion is carried.

Closer to home voters were given the choice of Bill Owens or Matt Doheny for Congress. To help sort things out for voters, two other political figures provided endorsements before the election.

The Democrat Owens, whose constituency includes dairy farmers who are dependent on migrant labor, was endorsed by Green Party candidate Donald Hassig, who once said, “I would like to see (Mexicans) get their asses kicked out of the north country.” And the Republican Doheny, who was dogged by opponents constantly trying to portray him as a butt-pinching frat boy, was endorsed by Watertown Mayor Jeffrey Graham, who two years ago campaigned for a convicted sex trade expert for governor.

Who says there wasn't a dime's worth of difference between our two millionaire Congressional candidates who were willing — upon election — to take a pay cut to represent us common folk?

Lest anyone thinks I don't love Democrats, the truth is I do love Democrats, I really do. I just don't love them as much as Patty Ritchie, Soft R-Heuvelton.

Since she was first elected two years ago, Ritchie has padded her staff with several ex-journalists so they can put out a press release every time she clears her throat.

(Today's press release: RITCHIE REMINDS HOLIDAY SHOPPERS OF SALES TAX BREAK).

But during the last few weeks of her 2012 campaign her staff produced one major talking point: “Here's another picture of Patty Ritchie smiling and standing next to Democratic Gov. Andrew Cuomo!”

Ritchie provides the north country with the same amount of clout in Albany as her seniority would suggest: not much. And so that's why there is a lot of hugging of opposite-party politicians who do have power, and production of press releases telling us to remember to tie our shoelaces, or whatever.

But what would have been really special this year is a press release saying, “Patty Ritchie will do everything humanly possible, including chaining herself to the state Capitol building, to stop the redistricting plan that carves St. Lawrence County into three Senate districts and four Assembly districts.”

Instead, once Ritchie saw that she would be in a politically safe district, she just smiled, turned and walked away.

How is it that businessmen who pride themselves as running their shops with conservative budget estimates, get all loosey-goosey when they become government overseers?

To wit, the Jefferson County Legislature ignored staff recommendations and approved a 2013 budget that will work only if there is an increase in sales tax revenue. (Hey, look, just because Washington wants to reduce the number of HDTV-buying soldiers the next couple of years probably won't affect Fort Drum and Jefferson County, right?)

Like the song goes, you'd better take care of business, Mr. Businessman. And that they did, all without cutting costs or raising taxes to meet expense projections. All they had to do is depend on the undependable, and the books are good to go!

Oh, and school board members in general are the most likely politicians to waste taxpayers money and not want to talk about it.

(Lament: But we're not politicians because we don't get paid! Rebuttal: Nice try, but you are elected, and the good governance laws that apply to every other politician apply to you, too.

The Watertown School District Board has sat on its hands watching Superintendent Terry Fralick for a year botch the construction of an electronic sign in front of the high school. First the sign was too small, so it was taken apart. Then a larger sign was constructed but its electronics would not work with the larger screen so they had to get new electronics.

Today, the district has a spiffy sign with lots of colors and pictures. But it sits parallel to Washington Street, making it all but impossible to read while driving by. (Actually, texting while driving would be safer than turning your head at a 45 degree angle to find out who is this month's honor student).

People who recently needed to move inventory, that is, BBQ sandwich sellers, weren't about to depend on the flashy new sign to get their message across. They promptly created their own hand-painted sign to get the job done.

Sail on home to Jesus won't you good girls and boys; I'm all in pieces, you can have your own choice

SEPT. 26, 2012: ALBANY (GPI) - An effort to link low student test scores to underachieving educators — and hold those educators publicly accountable — drew sharp criticism today from one of the state's teachers unions.

That is, until the union's leadership read the fine print of the proposed law.

“Wait a second,” said Anita Rays, executive director of Teachers United Against That, Too. “So this isn't about teachers, it's about parents? Never mind.”

The proposed legislation by Assemblyman Hy Penshun would require “home-based educators” to take remedial parenting courses if their children are not able to recite the alphabet and write their name on the first day of kindergarten. More stringent parent evaluations would also occur when students are in 4th, 8th and 11th grades.

Failure to attend remedial training would lead to penalties including revocation of the parent's driver's license. Parents' names would also appear in a newspaper legal notice the following week under the title: My Child Didn't Fail; I Did.

“Look, it's garbage in, garbage out,” said Assemblyman Penshun, who owns a trash hauling business in the Bronx. “You got these urchins, and don't get me wrong, I love kids, but they're coming into school without a home-based educator ever taking two minutes to read to them or make them write something. And then they do nothing with their kids for another 12 years? This has to stop. We need to hold these educators responsible and accountable.”

Penshun said too many parents have decided that government is responsible for children's education from A to Z and from the age of 1 to 18.

“By the time students get to high school, you can't fix a parent's indifference,” he continued. “These SUNY schools will give you an education degree, but they can't make you a certified 'miracle worker.'”

Penshun noted that over the course of the year parents have far more time than school-based educators to help their children educationally.

“I tell parents, 'Do the math, that is, if you know how,'” said Penshun. “Your kid is in a class like English or government for 40 minutes a day for 185 school days. That's 7,400 minutes. Now, stay with me here... that's 123 hours which is just over five days. In other words, each teacher has got only five days out of 365 in a year to rewire the chucklehead you sent to school with a smiley face note reading, “Dear teacher: Tag, you're it.'”

Civil liberty groups are finding themselves in a quandary over the proposed legislation. They say they want children protected from harm, but generally they feel more comfortable bringing class action lawsuits against institutions rather than individuals.

"It's not that we will only go after someone with deep pockets, it's just that we don't have the manpower to go door-to-door to sort this out,” said Mark N. Tyme of the Union of My Civil Liberties First Lawyers.

Penshun is also getting blow back from the state department of transportation regarding his desire to tie parent performance to the right to have a driver's license. An estimated 20,000 parents could be affected by the law at any one time. Fewer cars on the road means a cleaner environment, but it also means less tax collected on gasoline sales.

“It just like taxes on cigarettes,” said Penshun. “The state says it doesn't want you to smoke, but if everyone stopped smoking we'd go bankrupt tomorrow.”

Penshun said there is a widening performance gap in schools, and it is all based on whether parents make educating their children a daily discipline for themselves.

“I've heard about this chemistry teacher in Watertown, wherever that is, who created a lullaby using the entire periodic table,” said Penshun. “That's a little kooky, I think, but his kids grew up pretty smart. The point is, parents need to have a plan to make sure their children are educated.”

A spokesman for Gov. Andrew Cuomo said the governor is expected to support the proposal if Penshun wins re-election in November.

Now, if 6 turned up to be 9, I don't mind, I don't mind. If all the hippies cut off their hair, I don't care, I don't care.

SEPT. 14, 2012: Resumes of successful people are often incomplete due to space limitations, although the one created by speakers last night when Denise Young received the Athena Award was fairly thorough.

The executive director of the Fort Drum Regional Health Planning Organization is leading an effort that ranges from the exotic (building an integrated medical services network that connects civilian hospitals and Fort Drum) to the somewhat less exotic (convincing a timid 18-year-old she has what it takes to consider a career in nursing).

When a medical helicopter service was resumed this year in Jefferson County, many people were involved in the effort but they all fittingly deferred to Young to make the announcement. She was the straw that stirred the drink.

All that was duly noted last night during a dinner at Ryan's Lookout restaurant.

But in settings such as this where the room is full of movers and shakers who are all dolled up, other images from the past can be overlooked.

For instance, members of service groups that plant trees yearly see Young in dusty boots and blue jeans, wielding a shovel or sledge hammer. We often talk about leaders leading from the front, but successful leaders are also willing to lead from the rear.

All communities have jobs that anybody can do — and so nobody does them. Denise Young understands that a community can't be lifted up unless its leaders are willing to lower themselves first, and that includes manual labor.

Speakers last night also noted Young's charming personality. But it should also be noted that she is charming despite experiencing a less-than-charmed life. There have been a number of setbacks in her family and professional life that could have easily prevented last night from ever happening. She reminded listeners that while they were looking at a leader who holds a master's degree — and now an Athena Award — they should also see a woman who once was a rudderless high school dropout.

Despite her years of relentless educational advancement and professional growth, she one day found herself in that horrible aloneness that all leaders must dig through, the one in which years of hard work have not yet produced visible results. As leaders know, investors don't pat you on the back and say, “Nice infrastructure!”

On that day more than a year ago she called me from that void. She wanted me to know it was all coming; that new nurses years in the making would soon be joining the workforce, that hospitals were now calling FDRHPO for network inclusion rather than the other way around.

And she was right. In time it all did start to come together, although I'm fairly certain she never mentioned anything about helicopters that day.

While our community should be proud of what it has accomplished through FDRHPO, there are still too many rough edges in the network, too many war-weary soldiers whose brains need to be defragged and too many hospitals facing financial ruin. Denise Young has much more to do.

Last night was advertised as taking a moment to congratulate a woman for all she has accomplished. But in many ways it was also a moment to ensure our community that as it faces an uncertain future the person whose hand is at the wheel of FDRHPO has overcome uncertain futures before.

Well you’ve cracked the sky, scrapers fill the air. But will you keep on building higher‘til there’s no more room up there?

AUG. 30: 2012: I have been called many names by many people over the years, but I have never been lit up quite this way by a candidate running — or in the case of Donald Hassig, dancing — for federal office.

Hassig and I have a lengthy, but remarkably uncomplicated history. He phones me from time to time to tell me to go procreate with myself, and I hang up the phone before he suggests it a second time. (I once filed a complaint about Hassig to the State Police after he told one of our innocent secretaries to go procreate with herself, and the response I received was, “Oh, he says that to you, too?”)

Hassig occasionally emails the Times his manifestos as to why it is wrong for businesses to use air, water and other natural resources to make a buck. For the most part, we generally ignore him, except when he is thrown off municipal or private property for singing, yelling or dancing. For instance, I wrote in 1999: “Environmentalist Don Hassig went to Potsdam State University College in November to recite poems he had written about ecological concerns. Evidently, he started raising his voice to a bothersome level, leading to his forced removal from campus for, alas, noise pollution.”

Hassig is the Green Party candidate for the Congressional seat held by Bill Owens and his campaign is, as expected, Hassig-esque. But in the spirit of full disclosure, here is a portion of the press release he sent out this week:

I conducted my news conference in the outdoor area between the Flower Memorial Library and City Hall. This was a wonderful place to do a news conference because it is located right across the street from the HQ of the Johnson Newspapers Corporation (JNC). The JNC is the newspaper monopoly of the North Country. It is the perfect newspaper corporation for a backward, negative, military, industrial city like Watertown, New York.

The WDT is the flagship of the JNC. Robert Gorman, the managing editor of the WDT is a overbearing dirt ball that has well deserved every word of Truth that I ever spoken to him. I have on more than a few occasions told him to frack himself upside down in a coconut tree. This human/gorilla/warthog hybrid is nothing more than totally mean and crazy. Mr. Robert Gorman had the ugly audacity to say to me that I was scamming people about chemical exposure and cancer many long years ago when I first started my career as an environmental activist. I have apologized to him on more than a few occasions for having used vulgar language in response to his abusive attack.

He does not have the character that it takes to offer an apology. He does not have the character that it takes to accept an apology. Mr. Gorman is a hybrid as I described above. He is not done fracking himself.

... In my mind, the library and city hall juxtaposition constitutes a great campaigning venue. I got my CD player out of the van and made preparations for a dance performance on Washington Street... I spoke loudly. I sang loudly. A few times, I shouted loudly. It worked. A small crowd grew around me on the sidewalk. One trouble maker showed up and tried to get me angry. He did not succeed. However, I was a little pissed by his negative comments about my stature as a congressional candidate. I admit to having told him to frack himself quite a few times. Nevertheless, I continued to give a high-powered, exciting dance performance. I spoke much Truth. I felt much Freedom. It was so good.

I wish to offer a mild rebuttal. I do not remember anything about a coconut tree; Hassig must have said that while I was hanging up the phone on him. I don’t remember ever saying I thought he was scamming people because I have done my level best not to talk to him at all.

And I really do think I accepted his apology when he indeed called months ago to apologize for his vulgar language over the last 12 years. That part about me not apologizing to him? Yeah, he got that part right.

All I have to say for myself is that after 38 years in journalism I still can’t treat mental illness, but I most certainly can detect it.

And I’m going to let the voters of the 21st Congressional District sort out the rest.

And I will never be set free as long as I'm a ghost that you can't see.

AUG. 28, 2012: The Watertown Daily Times is about to launch its e-edition, another new feature produced by the Johnson Newspaper Company in the last few years.

Starting Sept. 5, readers will be given a month's free subscription. All you will have to do is go to our website and click the e-edition icon to get started.

In October, readers can then subscribe, with rates reduced for those who have a print subscription. For instance, a subscriber to the Times can get the e-edition for a year for an additional $10. A non-subscriber's rate is $69.95. Individual copies can also be purchased.

Last week we invited readers to be part of our “Insiders” group to test-drive the product. The feedback was a unanimous “wow!” And for good reason. The new product offers readers a replica of that day's paper, an archive of previous editions, options to read one or two pages at a time, a magnifying tool, hyperlinks that allow you to go directly to email and web addresses, and an audio option.

You can read stories as text or in graphic form, you can isolate ads from news copy to give them your undivided attention, and you can directly email articles.

This is the latest in a series of new products the Times has unveiled in the last two years. We have added NNY Business, NNY Living and NNY Golf to our print products, and we are now using “cloud” technology so that we can add copy and photos to our regional websites from anywhere.

We have partnered with Timeless Frames to offer customers a quick way to review and purchase photos from our website. And we will soon have an App for our e-edition for use on smart phones.

We continue to expand our web offerings and more is on the way. Our Politics 2012 page is being created so that you can see the latest political news and also catch up on what you have missed.

Our staff has been doing a lot of heavy lifting the last two years to install new software, renovate offices, build a new website, create magazines and now provide an e-edition. But none of it would be possible without continued reader and advertiser support.

We thank you.

Down around the corner, half a mile from here; Seem them coal trains running, and you watch them disappear.

JULY 16, 2012: Upstate New York Power Corp. wants to erect wind turbines on Galloo Island. ReEnergy Holdings wants to retrofit a coal-fired generator so it can burn biomass. The renewable energy plans may be different, but the companies have one thing in common: they want to sell the energy they produce to Fort Drum.

In reality, what the two companies have most in common is that neither one has a contract to sell anything to anybody, particularly Uncle Sam.

The dance being played out here is part of a nationwide cotillion in which our military is trying to figure out how to go green without going in the red. As tax dollars dry up, cutting costs through efficiency is a no-brainer, although no one expects National Grid to be called to perform an energy audit on a Virginia class nuclear sub.

So what to do?

First, the military's renewable energy movement is already everywhere. In 2007, 70,000 solar panels were installed at Nellis Air Force Base to produce energy. In March the Watertown Daily Times reported that half of all U.S. soldiers, including those at Fort Drum, now carry light-weight solar-powered batteries to fire up all the electronics they carry onto the battlefield.

With the Department of Defense, the debate on directing some tax dollars from defenders and weapons and toward renewable energy generally starts with a simple premise: if we stop buying so much foreign oil, foreign countries won't have so much cash to buy weapons to kill our soldiers or pay others to do it for them.

But the return on any energy technology investment is years away and so the debate is running into roadblocks at the highest pay grades. In March Secretary of the Navy Ray Mabus reaffirmed the Navy's plan to have half of its energy supplied from non-fossil fuels in the next decade. But during a senate hearing, Sen. John McCain countered, “Using defense dollars to subsidize new energy technologies is not the Navy's responsibility.”

Closer to home, any company wanting to pump power on post will have to get the contract through the national Defense Logistic Agency, and not by buttering up FDRLO and AUSA members to in turn lobby Fort Drum star wearers.

(Sore subject alert: Fort Drum's two one-star billets are being manned by colonels-promotable. It is our hope and prayer that a couple more retirements at the Pentagon will straighten this all out, and the right number of stars will soon be found on post.)

The number crunching regarding the cost of providing long-term power to Fort Drum will be interesting. Right now biomass execs are telling the Army they can generate power for 7 cents per kilowatt-hour. However, due to a warm winter, increased production of natural gas, etc., Fort Drum's energy costs have recently dropped to 4 cents per KWh. That number will rise and fall from year to year, which prompts the question of whether the feds should lock in a higher, fixed price, or stay the course and keep rolling the dice.

People against federally subsidized renewable energy are often most offended by the amount of money thrown at research and production. If a “green” company such as Solyndra goes belly up, the catcalls are deafening. And even the military itself can be the biggest obstacle to somebody else's green energy. If a cash-strapped town government starts fast-tracking a radar-wrecking wind farm within binocular reach of Fort Drum's airfield, a behind-the-scenes “Come to Jesus” meeting will be quickly arranged.

There is no clear answer as to how our country is going to create an energy efficient military. But we can look forward to this: public interest groups historically opposed to increased military spending will now support costly energy transformation for the military, while relentless advocates for increased military spending will try to close the checkbook if the word green is used for energy and not just uniforms.

If you return me to my home port, I will kiss you, mother earth. Take me back now, take me back now, to the port of my birth.

JULY 6, 2012: Don't be fooled: An “outside-the-box” idea is often nothing more than “panic in the streets” with a pretty bow wrapped around it.

For instance, St. Lawrence County schools are atrophying so rapidly that one district is proposing to scour the world to enroll foreign exchange students.

Yes, having Asians, South Americans, Europeans, et al., sitting in north country classrooms would do wonders for the world view of local kids. But this isn't about the children, of which there are fewer. It is about the tax base, of which there is not much left. Substitute “foreign exchange students” with “foreign currency students” and you will have a better sense of why everybody always says that an eroding revenue stream is the mother of invention. (And if they don't say it yet, they'll be saying it soon.)

St. Lawrence County has unraveled so fast in two years that most individual school boards have experienced a strange metamorphosis: Instead of attacking consolidation as an evil plot hatched by the St. Lawrence BOCES to kill a community's identity, they are now calling BOCES — while they still have enough money to pay the phone bill –- to ask how consolidation might work.

With its vastness and lack of manufacturing, St. Lawrence should be the petri dish for consolidation experimentation. But as anyone watching the SUNY Canton and SUNY Potsdam consolidation debacle can attest, county leaders see consolidation as mixing species, which everybody also says ain't natural.

Jefferson County school districts should take note, but they won't. With greater financial resources they will be able to put off the future for several more years — or at least until this crop of superintendents enters pension Nirvana.

But why wait? Does anybody think the financial health of our school districts will be better in 10 years?

Watertown and General Brown school districts are the most recent example of why the county should have one school district. An apartment complex is being built straddling the district boundary lines. Yet because both districts are so starved for cash, they have jointly decided to force some of the children to ride a bus for miles rather than walk to a nearby school.

But these districts are not alone. All of our districts produce examples where the status quo is served first, where boundary lines prevent common sense. One district lays off teachers while a nearby district is hiring. It should be an easy problem to solve. But instead the out-of-work teachers must go back to square one in applying for a job — let's start the tenure clock again! — instead of simply being transferred to another school 20 miles away.

The flaws are everywhere. We have so many school districts that we can't find enough members of the public to serve on school boards. We solve the problem by electing the spouses of teachers and guidance counselors who, not surprisingly, wave through salary increases for teachers and guidance counselors. And when we can't find enough spouses we then elect teachers and guidance counselors from neighboring school districts. In big letters they proclaim that there is no conflict of interest. But in the fine print there is this: when the union these teachers and guidance counselors belong to is seeking a new contract, the union will enter negotiations using as a benchmark the contract its members helped approve in the neighboring school district.

Jefferson County schools have spent the last decade bungling the future at taxpayers' expense. They have all gone off in different debt directions so that nobody wants to be stuck paying off someone else's turf field. But now is the time to begin talks in figuring out how to manage change rather than becoming the victim of change.

And the change is gonna come. Don't believe me? Just cast your eyes northward.