Long trips and weird keyboards

I feel a little bit like Mickey Mantle, who once stayed out all night drinking because he was injured and didn't expect to play.

Hung over as hell, Mantle staggered to the plate, hit a massive home run and limped around the bases to thunderous applause. Collapsing in the dugout, Mantle said, "They have no idea how hard that was."

Well, you have no idea how hard it is to type on a French-language keyboard. The first line is not QWERTYUIOP. It's AZERTYUIOP. The period is a shift key.

Yeah; I know. Call the whaa-bulance.

It's just a pain to keep typing "a" and getting "q."

Anyway, I'm in France. My son is an honest-to-goodness Ironman after completing the Nice course in 12:10:01, and I'm wondering what's going on in America. Hey, Al Franken is a senator (and Rush Limbaugh is furious), Manny Ramirez is about to return to the Dodgers and Michael Jackson has returned to his home planet.

Jeez, I don't know what else to say about the guy the Fleet Street media in London call "Jacko." He lived, he made some music, he got weird and died. Sort of like Elvis.

I suppose it's sad to see a great talent disappear, but it had been a long time since "Jacko" made any great music.

I do have a lot to say about Europe, but I'm going to wait till I'm back on my own keyboard, assuming I survive the return trip from hell -- Toulouse to London Gatwick to London Heathrow, an overnight in the chairs, London to Chicago and Chicago to LAX. Home late Saturday afternoon.

I'll write again by Sunday.

Wish me luck.