King George III

I just woke up from a dream where I was in the lap lane at an outdoor swimming pool, and was stealing a giant inner tube from Douglas C. Neidermeyer. He was planning to play a practical joke on me by holding the tube underwater until I swam over, and then releasing it to float up and bushwhack me. It was a joke I could appreciate, and a good plan -- except for two things: 1) The water was clear, so I could easily see him lurking on the bottom, holding the tube, and 2) The physics of the situation were clearly absurd; no 170-pound guy is going to submerge a fully-inflated tractor tire inner tube without the assistance of a block of lead the size of Gaylord Perry.

No, wait, I mean William "Refrigerator" Perry. Sorry about that. But while we're on the topic, I urge all prospective mothers out there to think very long and hard before considering naming their sons "Gaylord". Please, just don't do it.

Anyway, Neidermeyer released the tube, expecting hilarity, but I surprised him by stopping short, and then grabbing the tube when it came to the surface and swimming away. The good news is that I could swim faster than him, even when pushing a 6-ft diameter rubber donut in front of me. The bad news is that I had no idea how to escape him once I reached the end of the 25-yard pool. The other good news is that I woke up before being caught and verbally abused.

So, my question for you is this: "Why are we allowed to violate the laws of physics in our dreams?" Does this mean that our waking consciousness is artifically limited, and that such lawless places do exist for us to visit if we could only break the shackles of human shortsightedness? Does it mean that our dreams are actually visual portals through black holes, and that for those few minutes during the night, we are blessed with the gift of seeing into other universes? Or is it just that our brains are all messed up from eating too many jalapeños, and nighttime is the chance for our cerebral anti-virus programs to kick in to clean and purge?

I have no idea. And I am just as clueless as to why the Queen of England is visiting New York this week. I heard a radio reporter say that the last time she visited was for the American Bicentennial, which seemed exceedingly odd to me: Why would you join in a celebration of an event in which one of your ancestors lost the most valuable piece of real estate a country ever possessed? Seems like you'd want to hang your crown-heavy head in shame every forth of July.

I don't know. But if nothing else, the Queen's visit means one thing for sure: We need to make sure someone keeps a close eye on Reggie Jackson.

And with that thought, I'll leave you with an additional celebration of the American spirit: Baseball! Enjoy!