Frank thoughts from a random mind

Being Frank, by Frank Ameduri

I sat in my office Friday, picking my brain for a topic for this column. Sometimes a topic arrives in a flash of near-blinding inspiration, usually it's a painful act of desperation. This was a week that produced all kinds of great material and, like a St. Bernard that has just stumbled upon an elephant graveyard, I just couldn't decide which bone to chew. So, for what it's worth, here are a few random thoughts from the land of Being Frank.

Primary surprises

There will be at least two new faces in the Valley delegation after November. Bev Masek, after a 10-year run, was chased off her turf by newcomer, Mark Neuman. Who-man? Neuman was a delegate to the Conference of Alaskans, and developed a taste for politics there. Before that, by his own definition, he was just a plain old, blue-collar guy from Alaska. He's one step from Juneau, which is prophetically spelled as oddly as Neuman. Hmm.

Then Scott Ogan resigned. Gov. Frank Murkowski will appoint Ogan's replacement in the near future. The replacement will be drawn from a list of candidates selected by Ogan's constituents.

How about this for Alaska political irony: Bev Masek's House district overlaps with Ogan's Senate district. Masek's name could show up on that short list, and Murkowski could appoint her to the Senate. Sure the voters chose to remove Masek, but since when did Murkowski let the democratic process stand in the way of his will? Stranger things have happened.

Fire relief

Back in July they started praying for it in Fairbanks. By August, it was on the minds of people all over the Mat-Su, too. They laughed at me when I suggested a solution. "The only way out of this mess is to start the Alaska State Fair early," I said. "How can you think of celebrations when the whole state is in flames, and Alaskans are choking on smoke?" What were they praying for? Rain. The state fair opened on Thursday, and the skies opened up. I rest my case.

The un-parade

At local parades throughout the year, politicians ride by crowds, waving and throwing candy. For the past month it's been like one of those parades in negative, as politicians stood at various intersections and waved at the cars streaming by. At a red light in Palmer, Carl Gatto popped his head through the open passenger window of my car. "Hey," he said, "I keep bumping into you everywhere." It was true, but I wasn't all that surprised. There are only a few intersections in Palmer, and if you stand around on one long enough, pretty much everyone in town is apt to drive by a couple of times. Carl said he felt good about the campaign, and he gave my 8-year-old daughter a pen. It was the second one she'd received. "He has nice pens," she said. It's true. I felt pretty lucky to live in a place where you can chat with a candidate at a red light.

You're kidding, right?

Just two words: Olympic Trampoline. I think Olympic sports are now being selected by the guy who names Ben and Jerry's Ice cream flavors. Here are a couple of Olympic Trampoline rules: A full somersault is worth 0.4 of a point, a quarter somersault is worth 0.1 and a three-quarter somersault is worth 0.3.; there is no time limit on routines; the judges award scores on a scale of 10. Does 100 quarter somersaults equal a perfect score? I don't get it.

The no-time-limit rule is rife with problems. How long will it be until a disgruntled trampoliner from New Bisquick performs a trampoline filibuster, just bouncing and bouncing, until the judge from Old Bisquick gives him full credit for the butt-knees-belly-back maneuver? The only good thing about the growing list of stupid Olympic sports is that, as I get older, my dreams of Olympic gold are limited only by my waning pride.

Frank Ameduri is training for the Olympic lawn dart team.