economy

In the spirit of the holiday season I have a gift for you: a freshly minted Herman Cain joke.

Q: Mr. Cain, what about Libya?

A: I never laid a hand on her.

But life isn't all jokes and foolishness. It just seems that way when you're dealing with politics. There are serious issues to be addressed — college football, for example.

The grimmest college scandal in memory has erupted at Penn State, a quiet university deep in the Pennsylvania mountains, dedicated to academic excellence and watching football.

In response to my now famous "the-class-war-is-over-the-rich-guys-won" column, a gentleman from Kentucky writes a rather snarky letter posing several piercing questions that I will now answer:

Q: How much do we have to make to be "rich?"

A: There's no set number for richness. Generally, 250-grand a year is a good wage, but if you have four kids who expect to go to a good college, you are a long way from rich. If you're single making the same wage, you at least have no trouble seeing rich from where you stand.

My friend Richard is a little crazy and very smart. He spends his days filling the Internet with screeds and rants on his favorite subject — the continuing collapse of our society. I'd tell you his last name, but if you wrote him, you'd get his scary emails too.

Here's an excerpt from a recent effort after the stock market had a bad-hair day.

Republicans are accusing President Obama of waging class warfare, which is a little like the Japanese complaining about the time Pearl Harbor attacked them in 1941.

Still, that's the Republican Party's role in life. It's the defender of the rich and powerful and a friend to those who can afford them. It's a dirty job but someone's got to do it, and George Will can't be everywhere at once.

If I were Thomas Paine (which I sometimes think I am) I would say: "These are the times that try men's souls."

If I were Charles Dickens (which I never think I am) I would say: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

And if I were William Butler Yeats (never, ever, never) I would say: "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."

I am more of the Casey Stengel school of political philosophy, so like that baseball great I say:

"Can't anybody here play this game?"

I was born on Christmas Day as an only child, and destined to remain one.

My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, having no other outlet, inundated me with presents every Christmas -- toy cars to ride in, red wagons, pearl-handled cap pistols, games that used batteries -- an embarrassment of riches.

We lived in a working class neighborhood, one in which recently departed husbands and fathers were routinely eulogized with the phrase: "He was always a good provider."