I am about to leave Florida for a bloodcurdling sixteen-hour drive up Interstate 95. It has been a nice enough trip, despite a few days suffering from what was either food poisoning or the natural reaction of entering the home state of the monstrous Katherine Harris. Even evoking my patron saints, the Golden Girls, failed to revive me.

The highlight of the trip was either getting up to vomit (twice) during a showing of Far From Heaven, seeing the parts of The Two Towers I originally slept through, or watching the Spanish version of "Family Feud," which is called "100 Mexicanos Dicieron," or "100 Mexicans Said."

I wonder what a hundred Mexicans would say about Katherine Harris. I suspect that no earthly language contains appropriate words.