In a recent segment of “Katie’s Notebook,” (distributed to various radio stations and posted on CBS’s website) Katie Couric described her experience of obtaining her first library card. Her remembrance opened with, “I still remember when I got my first library card, browsing through the stacks for my favorite books.”

Howard Kurtz points out in a Washington Post article that Katie Couric did not write the piece describing her experience for her “Notebook,” but rather it was written by a network producer. Well, that’s not exactly true either. It turns out that the network producer lifted much of the piece from an article written in the Wall Street Journal by Jeffrey Zaslow.

CBS explained that it was “very common” for staffers to write first person commentaries for Ms. Couric. The network apologized to the Wall Street Journal and fired the producer.

Maybe Katie Couric will actually write something all by herself for her “Notebook” about this little oooopsie.

via Coyote Blog and Instapundit

Dear Diary,

Hey, I just flew in from Syria, and boy are my arms tired! ROFLMAO!

OMG, this is the first chance I have had to catch up on my diary, because I was on a very important, most excellent dimploatic trip (Maybe you read something about it. LOL!!), where as the SPEAKER in the House I got to do lots of speaking with people who are almost as smart and as important me.

The plane ride was a riot. At first, Waxman was pretty stiff, but after a bottle or two of Cristal he started to loosen up. I fired up my Peter, Paul and Mary discs and convinced him to try some primo herb. It was a hoot when he started trying to sing “Puff the Magic Dragon,” and he’d get all confused and shit. Then he started snorting and pounding the chair laughing and saying stuff like, “Yeah, yeah. ‘Little Jackie Paper’ … Imagine if he had a brother named ‘Toilet’ or News’?” Then he tried to grab my ass. I can’t say I blame him.

Truth is, some people probably shouldn’t do herb. LOL!!

We spent a couple days in Israel, where I got to speak a lot to a lot of very important people, and were they ever glad I came, because they have some serious problems, and I solved one of their biggest problems in a jiffy.

I gave each of these seriously important people a crystal and we held hands in a circle until we all felt the right vibes. They obviously knew I was an expert at this, because they were all staring at me and saying nothing.

I am totally certain that they have serious denial issues, because do you believe that I had to explain to them that their biggest problem is that they just cannot seem to get along with their neighbors? I told them that you catch more vinegar with flies than honey … no, wait you catch more flies with vinegar than … no, wait! Oh, you know what I mean. I said, “Look, if your neighbors jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge or ran around with scissors, does that mean you have to do it too? And, a rolling stone gathers no moss.” They obviously got it, because they were all shaking their heads. This dimplomacy stuff is a snap.

Oh, then they took me for a ride around Jerusalem and we stopped by this wall. It was awesome. There was a bunch of people there, mostly dressed in black – sort of Gothic, who were head banging. I figured they were all wearing iPods, because I couldn’t hear any music. I forgot my iPod, so I had my driver pull the car near the wall and turn the volume way, way up on my Green Day disc. I hopped out of the car and joined in with the head bangers. They freakin’ loved it! They all stopped head banging, gathered in a group (like a moish pit) and watched me rock. It was awesome.

I know they hated to see me leave Israel, because everywhere I went people were saying “MESHUGENA!!” which they told me means “We’ll miss you!” Still, it was time to leave, because I had to go straighten out our shit with the Syrians.

I totally loved Syria. The day before I was going to meet the president, they asked me if I wanted to see “John the Baptist”. I figured it would be cool to meet an American who has a church in Syria. But, when we got there, the only thing left of John was his head! WTF? What a hoot! Those Syrians are a pisser.

OK, OK. I know. What about the scarf-on-my-head thing? Truth is, at the time, I was so wrecked ‘shrooms I don’t even remember putting the goddamned thing on. After a while, I got to liking it, and, in fact, I am going to introduce a resolution in the House of Congress that will require everyone to wear a headscarf every Thursday as a show of solidarity with our Syrian friends. Yeah, I will expect the men to wear them too – sort of like the ones “Little Steven” wears. OMG, I am going to sooooo miss the Sopranos.

Anyway, the next day I got to meet with the president of Syria. I knew the meeting would be totally great, because he totally never took his eyes off my tits. Well, that’s not exactly true, because he tried to look up my dress as I crossed my legs. I made sure he got a peek. Try that kind of dimplomacy, ChimpyMcHitlerburton!

I told him about my serious talks with the very important people in Israel and how the people there really want to be friends, and I explained to him what the world needs now is love, sweet love – No, not just for some, but for everyone. Then I let him grab my tits.

Obviously, it worked! He told me that he was a big fan of Larry David.

This dimplomacy stuff is a total no-brainer.

I’m glad to be back in the U.S.A., because I ran out of Cristal and decent weed over there. I ended up having to settle for some shit that I got from our interpreter. It tasted like ass and barely gave me a buzz.

Besides, I had to get back because my friend Barbra Streisand is throwing a huge party for me at her house (We made up, but psssssst Don’t mention the “saggy tits” thing, OK?). People are going to pay to come. How totally awesome is that? For $150,000, they can actually sit with me. I’m thinking of offering special pricing: an ass fondle for $175,000 and a bare tit grab for $250,000.

God, how I love being the SPEAKER in the House.

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Governor Corzine is in intensive care as a result of injuries suffered in a traffic accident on the Garden State Parkway.

A spokesman for the governor, Anthony Coley, said Corzine suffered 12 broken ribs and fractures to his collarbone, sternum, left leg and a vertebra in his lower back. He said the injuries were “not life-threatening” and there did not appear to be any brain or spinal cord damage.

In the meantime, Senate President Richard Codey has assumed the duties of acting governor.

Developing.

Update: More here.

Speaking of racism on the federally regulated air waves, let’s remember that this guy has been granted access to them too.

Yes, buckaroos, Texas is calling. In a few weeks I’ll be heading off to the Lone Star State to meet up with a bunch of Blown-Eyed Blodgers in Kerrville. As was the case last year in Austin, I suspect that, in addition to attending the numerous writing seminars and symposia, we may also find time to have a few cocktails and do a few tunes. Denny promises to bring his axe and the the world-famous kazoo.

As it turns out, I will be arriving in San Antonio on the same plane as this Blown-Eyed Brooklyn Blodger. Oy!

So, it will be a Jersey knucklehead and a Brooklyn Joooish Babe struttin’ our shit through the San Antonio Airport and talkin’ like Tony and Carmela. Figure we might just stick out a teeny bit?

The good news is that I’ll be carrying a guitar case, so if any locals ask who we are, I plan on telling them that I’m in town to do a gig with Delbert and that, “This here lady is Loretta Lynnstein, one of Delbert’s favorite backup singers. Now where can we get us a Shiner Bock and some farookin’ decent barbecue?” That oughta do it.

Of course, it is possible that someone might say, “Hell, I know you! You’re that Jewish dentist named Mel. I didn’t recognize you without your hat!”

Yo! Youse gonna be in Kerrville, or what?

As I sit here without any terribly original thoughts, or an overpowering urge to dream some up, a few questions continue to bang around in my cruller. I would like to think that they are rhetorical, but I wonder. I suppose that’s why they’ve been banging around.

Does anyone really and truly think that Rosie O’Donnell is smart?

Does any American think that an Iran with nuclear weapons is a good thing? I figure getting that sorted out is a good starting place.

Does Hillary Clinton have a sincere bone in her body?

Seventy-one million blogs?

What kind of computer does Bill Gates have?

United States Quoiting Association? Who knew?

What would Abraham Lincoln think?

I began listening to Imus when he first came to New York (I believe it was ’71 or ’72). I listened every day, and I patiently awaited his return to New York from his banishment to Cleveland for having shown up on the air shitfaced and drugged out. I listened for damned near three decades.

However, a few years ago, I began to tire of what I perceived to be an increasingly long line of liberal weenies guests, each seemingly suffering from terminal Bush Derangement Syndrome. I tolerated Andrea Mitchell, Chris Matthews, Tim Russert, David Gregory, Maureen Dowd and even John Kerry. However, once Imus began to regularly refer to Vice President Cheney as a “war criminal” he lost me to a rival station.

Having said that, I have followed his most recent gaffe with some interest. Sure, what he said was absolutely uncalled for, cruel and insensitive, but in all my past years of listening to Imus I never thought him to be a racist. I still don’t.

As Erica notes, in our lives each of us has said something profoundly stupid and hurtful, which we immediately or ultimately regretted. Imus has made several on-air apologies, which was the right thing to do.

In my view, where he screwed up was taking the bait tossed out there by “Reverend” Al Sharpton and “Reverend” Jesse Jackson, two race hustlers whose economic well-being is based upon making sure that racism remains alive and well in America.

So, in the end, Imus made two mistakes. His first mistake was having made a particularly cruel remark about young women athletes. His second mistake was going on Al Sharpton’s radio show, kissing Al’s ass and getting burned for his trouble.

I hope he has learned something from both mistakes.

Now, if he ever gets around to apologizing for repeatedly calling a sitting Vice President a “war criminal,” I may just tune in again.

“Shots rang out.”

“Shots rang out?”

I got to thinking about that as I was walking this morning. Don’t ask me why. I assume it’s a cosmic thing.

Anyone familiar with the sound of gunfire knows that shots don’t “ring”. Farookin’ bells ring. And yet, in the written word, shots continue to “ring out”.

To wit, Google produces 157,000 hits for “shots rang out”.

I got to thinking a bit more about this weighty matter, and I wondered what other words might work instead of “rang”. How about these?

“Shots boomed out.” (“Boom” has a big gun sound.) Only 31 Google hits. WTF?

“Shots blasted out.” (“Blast” has some weight, methinks.) Damn, only 25 Google hits.

“Shots sang out.” (I figure if they can ring, they can sing.) Yikes! Only one Google hit.

“Shots tolled out.” (Hell, bells toll, so why not shots?) Wrong! Zero Google hits.

“Shots farted out.” OK, I know I’m reaching here, but I’m desperate. Nope. Zero Google hits, but Google suggested that I try “Shots fired out”.

OK, I’m game.

“Shots fired out.” Hey, Google may be on to something here. 305 Google hits.

And this silly shit demonstrates precisely why I should step away from this contraption and read a farookin’ book – one that hopefully has nothing to with shots ringing, booming, blasting, singing, tolling, farting, or firing out.

Later.