I'd tweet this, but it's way longer than 140 words.

Taking dinosaurs off this island is the worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas, and I'm going to be there when you learn that.

- Ian Malcolm, "The Lost World: Jurassic Park"

Speaking of bad ideas, here is the next one in their long, sad history.

LPGA Commissioner Carolyn Bivens said in an interview last week that she would "love it" and “encourages” players to use handheld devices to post content on social-media Web sites such as Twitter or Facebook and encourages the use of handheld mobile phones during play, even if it runs counter to golf etiquette.

That's right. She'd love it if the players started texting 140-word updates to their Twitter pages during the round. Sure. While we're at it, let's have an update from Donovan McNabb while the Eagles defense is on the field. And what's to stop Brad Lidge from typing while he's sitting around for 8 innings? Hopefully, common sense stops them, because the people in charge are getting antsy for money.

I'd love it if the LPGA would get a new Commissioner. They should find someone who cares about the game, respects the players and wants them to succeed on their own merit. I'm available, and I'll do the job for a quarter of what they're paying Bivens.

Paula Creamer, on her Twitter page said, "I will not be twittering in my round. It should not happen in any sport. The players have already told the tour no way." Good for you, Paula.

LPGA TV ratings are sagging, and they weren't that great to begin with. They just lost Corning as a 31-year tournament sponsor, McDonald's is being jettisoned after next week's championship and, well - you know - in "this economy" times are tough for fringe sports like women's golf and basketball. Remember that little $1 million deal the WNBA cooked up?

I suppose, with desperation come the bad ideas, like legalized gambling and lotteries. When big business and government are backed into a revenue corner, they invariably turn to something offensive, and justify it on the basis of economics. I'm guessing that Bivens doesn't play golf and may not know that fans are prohibited from using cellular phones during tournaments.

Just because the technology is available doesn't mean you have to use it.

Hold the Yak penis, please.

Since I've pretty much given up on English-speaking women finding me attractive, today I realzed that non-English speaking women would be equally unattractive. Not physically, but because I'd never know if they were talking about me behind my back. The language barrier.

Lunching at the local Chinese buffet - which is Chinese in name only, but is buffet - I observed two waitresses having a conversation in some form of Chinese/Mandarin dialect, and realized that I'd never be comfortable if I was with someone who spoke a fluent second language. Who in Hell knows what they're talking about?

WAITRESS #1: 你看到多少禿頂傢伙是吃? (Did you see how much the bald guy was eating?)

WAITRESS #2: 我知道。他將在哪裡呢？(I know. Where does he put it all?)

WAITRESS #1: 我敢打賭，他不會留下小費，無論。(I don't know. I bet he doesn't leave a tip.)

WAITRESS #2: 男人都是一樣的。(Men are all the same.)

What chance do I have against that?

Of course, that's assuming that English-speaking women wouldn't ridicule me, so you never know.

Something to try at home.

"Cheese crumbs spread before a pair of copulating rats will distract the female, but not the male."

- Alfred Kinsey

There's a fun little experiment for my men readers. Lay out some cheese tonight and see what happens. I'd try it myself, but I don't have any ... cheese. Right.

I was having lunch with a co-worker today, and as we were walking out he told me, "That woman was totally checking you out." I didn't correct his syntax, but I did check to see if my fly was open. I might also have wanted to have either his or her eyesight checked.

By the way, if you're in or near a Wendy's, try the Southwest Taco salad. It's a party for your mouth and only $4.79. Partner it up with the Light Lemonade (large because it's spicy) and you have a nice lunch-time meal.

Comedian Robert Klein used to do a bit where he said that, if Neil Armstrong wanted to set himself up for life financially, instead of that "one small step for a man..." stuff, all he needed to do when he stepped off the LEM onto the surface of the moon was yell out, "Coca-Cola!" Free advertising, and Neil is a millionaire. It's funny, and I'm sure the boys at NASA had some discussions over Neil's first words.

Well, it seems that "this economy" is forcing pro sports to whore-it-up, and one wonders if NASA would have sold out to big money if Neil was landing on the moon today?

The WNBA's Phoenix Mercury has decided to stop putting "Phoenix" and "Mercury" on its jerseys and start putting "LifeLock." The Arizona-based company will pay the Mercury at least $1 million a year to have its name on the Phoenix uniform.

OK, so it's only the WNBA, but it's still a million bucks, but aren't you supposed to have the name of your team on your uniform somewhere? I guess Penn State is as guilty as anyone, since their football uniforms have been sporting the Nike swoosh for years, sans any mention of the Nittany Lions.

What is that teaching the kids?

"That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for my Nike Lunar boots."

Now, go find some cheese and get to work. Report back.

Where's the food?

CULVER CITY, Calif. (AP) - In a chewy chow-lenge, Takeru Kobayashi outlasted Joey Chestnut when the eating titans faced off to see who could devour the most pizzas. Kobayashi, a six-time world hot dog eating champion from Japan, consumed 5-3/4 P’zones in a six-minute span of chaotic consumption Saturday to edge Chestnut. The 25-year-old from San Jose, Calif., wolfed down 5-1/2 P’zones on Stage 15 at Sony Studios.

“I’m a little bummed,” Chestnut said. “There’s nobody I like beating more than him, he pushes me harder than anybody.”

Jesus, who can eat the most pizzas. That's what we've come to as a race of humans. I like food too much to want to eat 6 P'zone's (whatever they are) in 6 minutes, or anything else, for that matter.
I went to see the Wilmington Blue Rocks on Saturday, and had a veggie-burger that I consumed in about 6 minutes - because it was good. Imagine that. Among other things, there was a baseball game to watch, unless, of course you count the mascots, who seemed to outnumber the players.

Food it seems, manifests itself in various forms. That's Reggy. I don't know what Reggy is or what he represents, but the kids seemed to love him. He appears to have a bag of french fries on his head and some oddly colored clothing, but I'm no judge. I'm not sure what sort of merit badge the scout is working on either.

That's Mister Celery. He comes out every time a Blue Rocks player scores a run. I don't know why. The Rocks scored 8 on Saturday, so he was a busy stalk.

This was a race of some sort between Rocky Bluewinkle (don't ask) and three other people dressed as a hot dog, a bag of popcorn and a peanut. I'm not sure who won. Does it matter?
The important thing was that I got out of the house and that the Blue Rocks won, 8 to 6. So, just because you're curious, I did see some baseball, and here are a few photos of actual players that have nothing to do with food.

That's Derrick Robinson, the Blue Rocks' leadoff hitter. He looks like he could use a good meal.

Shortstop Jeff Bianchi had 3 hits on Saturday, not that you'd notice with all the food products dancing around.

Third baseman Mike Moustakas was the Royals first round draft pick a couple of years ago, and he's playing this year in Wilmington, dodging the celery and hot dogs.