There was another major heist at a European Art Museum yesterday – this time in the Netherlands at the Kunsthal Museum in Rotterdam.

Thieves broke in at 3am, set off alarms and managed to get away with 7 targeted works in less than 5 minutes, which is how long it took for the police to arrive.

Some people look on art theft as a fun, cinematic type of larceny. The stuff being stolen is extremely valuable but of no real use. Rich people and insurance companies suffer the loss. And if you’re the burglar, you could be a toned and sexy genius – a talented thrill seeker too smooth to get caught.

The Wall Street Journal says art theft is a $6 billion global black market, and the U.S. is the biggest single destination for taken treasures. But if you wind up with one of the more than 1,000 pilfered Picassos, you probably won’t be able to sell it because it’s logged in at the Art Loss Register, a worldwide database of missing masterpieces.

You’ll have to install it on the back side of a revolving wall, a priceless bauble to be shown only to “special” guests at your penthouse, but only after too many drinks have been poured and just before the cigars are lit.

Unless, of course, you come into it by accident, completely unaware that the “nice” picture you paid $15 for at a garage sale is the subject of an international search-and-rescue operation. Unlikely, but it could happen, what with all the quirky heist junkies out there. After all, it’s just a game to them. Who knows where the stolen art is hiding?

What object in your home could be a stolen work of art?

Just because a machine is designed to go incredibly fast, that doesn’t mean it should never slow down at a crosswalk, hit the brakes for a hairpin turn or come to a halt for a stoplight.

This is the mental message I beam to my fellow drivers during every commute, but we must not be on the same wavelength. They never seem to pick it up.

That’s why I so enjoy these images of the space shuttle Endeavour creeping through the streets of Los Angeles over the weekend.

Yes, Endeavour, you’ve done 17,500 miles per hour on the open range, but this is a 2 mph zone with no allowance for thrill seeking, especially with so many amateur photographers milling around.

Reports say a million people came out to watch and the preparations took months. Power lines and sign posts had to be moved to allow the orbiter to pass, and hundreds of trees were taken down to provide clearance for Endeavour’s wingspan – unlikely sacrifices to America’s urge to explore space.

When have you had to carefully maneuver through a tight spot?

I found a soggy note plastered to my windshield of as I was preparing to leave work the other day. A residue of sea salt still marks the spot where I peeled it off the glass. It’s from the widely feared pirate and international man of mystery, Captain Billy – rogue skipper of the ghost ship Muskellunge.

Ahoy, Landlubber!

This here notice is to call attention t’ th’ fact that October 12 is Columbus Day in the USA, or was, at one point, before it was changed t’ be th’ second Monday in October or some such nonsense.

But now payin’ respects t’ Columbus ain’t politically correct, so not much is said about him an’ hardly nobody gets the day off ‘cept fer longshoremen an’ postal workers. What wi’ labor unions an’ th’ very idea of government under assault from various angles, it won’t be long b’fore all recognition of Columbus Day is but a memory.

Not that me an’ the boys cares all that much about Columbus!

Aye, 1492 was a golden age for them what sought fame an’ riches on the high seas! Columbus wound up with both, I reckon. But now that his misdeeds have gained some ground on his legend, an’ bein’ a professional opportunist, of sorts, I’s of a mind t’ politely suggest that perhaps th’ American people needs a new role model of th’ salty waves t’ celebrate!

I hearby offers me’self as such a figure.

So if’n any municipalities is under pressure t’ tear down their Columbus statues, may I politely suggest that a much cheaper way t’ go would be t’ weld on an eye patch an’ a peg leg t’ th’ offendin’ figure, an’ change th’ name below from “Christopher Columbus” t’ “Capt’ Billy”.

I understands th’ Columbus statue in New York City is perfectly set up right now fer such a tidy make-over, what with a cozy room havin’ been built around it.

So why not head off any current or future criticism by re-purposin’ this here statue as a generic tribute t’ the seafarin’ explorer an’ man of adventure? Since I ain’t never had my photograph taken, I reckon no one will quibble wi’ th’ quality of th’ likeness.

An if any Italian patriots has a issue with th’ idea, I invites them t’ track us down! Me an’ th’ boys is always prepared t’ welcome company, th’ more hostile, th’ better. But don’t ferget to bring yer riches!

Yer seafarin’ pal,
Capt. Billy (an’ the crew of the Muskellunge)

Personally, I would be in favor if this change if Columbus Circle could be re-christened the “Billy Go-Round”.

What is your favorite piece of pubic art?

Today’s post comes via text message from Bart the Bear, a wildlife-Minnesotan who found a smart phone in the woods.

Yo, Bart here.

So this summer I set up this alert-thing on the phone to buzz me whenever a bear shows up in the news. Being one, I just wanted to know how things are going for us. “Are you better off now than you were four years ago …” you know. That kind of thing.

But then a few weeks ago the alert starts pinging all the time. I couldn’t sleep, and it kinda worried me that bears were getting into so much trouble.

Then I figured out that it was the start of the football season and everything I was getting notified for had to do with the “Chicago Bears”. Not really too interesting to me, although whenever they show up there seems to be lots of food around. That would be nice, to be one of the bears that makes people get out large bowls of chips.

So then I figured out how to tell the phone to alert me ONLY when a story has both the words “bear” and “tranquilized” in it.

That made all the difference, and I started hearing only about bears going out of their way to get into places where people get freaked out by anything big and hairy. And we seem to do a lot of that.

Like this one. It seems a baby bear got into this house in Arizona and ate the cake and a whole bunch of sweet stuff. The only thing missing was the porridge!

But instead of getting a nice bed to sleep in, this youngster got a tranquilizer dart and a hard floor.

That old “Three Bears” story pushes the idea that baby bears are hard to please. But I’ve known baby bears and I even was a baby bear once, and I can tell you for sure that baby bears are NOT PICKY. One thing about them though – baby bears KNOW that they are cute. Cute AND scary, which means baby bears are irresistible to humans, because those are your two favorite qualities no matter what form they come in.

Just a word of advice – if you find yourself looking at a baby bear and it is not in a zoo, you have looked too long and it is time to leave the area. Even if that area is your own bedroom, because you just don’t know were mama is at. As a friendly bear, I give you this advice to head off an ugly scene. And as a former baby bear, I suggest that as you leave the house, you should prop open the refrigerator door.

That’s just hospitality, and good manners.

Your pal,
Bart

Name a food you’d break into someone’s house to eat.

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I just want to make it clear at the outset that I love my country.

I love it so much I want to make all of its decisions for it. But to be able to make those decisions, I have to win a major, major contest against the person who’s running it now.

I say “running it now” but in fact he’s not running it. No one person can run an entire country – especially this one. It’s too big and varied.

But anyway, I really, really want to win. So I go around pretending he’s running the country poorly and messing it up. And I also pretend that I can somehow do a better job. We both know this is nonsense, but we both continue to act like fixing an economy is no big deal, and that we both know exactly how it’s done.

Every now and then a bunch of numbers come out that indicate how the country is faring. When the numbers are bad, I look better. When the numbers are better, I look bad.

Dr. Babooner, I really need my country to have some bad numbers right now. I find myself dreaming of massive unemployment increases and a misery index that is off-the-charts awful.

But I only want to see this calamity deepen so I can get a chance to make things right! The agony of other people creates opportunity for me, and when I get a the right opportunity, I’m pretty sure I can make things better for everyone! That might be another hallucination but there’s only one way to find out!

Does that make me a bad person?

Seamus Roofrack, Esq.

I told Mr. Roofrack that yes, in fact, this does make him a bad person. No question. Wishing misery on strangers so one can get an opportunity to reduce their misery is as radical a self-glorification fantasy as one is likely to have. It’s like Lassie hoping Timmy falls in the well so she can charge to his rescue. This is a fanciful story, though, because a canine would never be so selfish or deluded.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

Today’s post comes from Ninth District Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing all the water surface area in Minnesota, which actually covers a lot of (wet) ground.

Greetings Constituents,

Representing all the water surface area is a perfect job for me. When I was a kid I stole my dad’s pontoon and went joyriding. The Lake Patrol came and got me and they pretended they were going to lock me in jail. I did them one better – I pretended I was excited about becoming a ward of the state, and they backed off.

I love debates because it’s so much like going out on the lake in a boat. There’s lots of wind and you circle for hours.

But one thing you have to be sure you’ve got down pat before you participate in a debate is a good Opening Statement. Experts call it your “Elevator Speech” – a one minute summary of who you are and what you’re about. They say you’d better give up running for office if you don’t have one of these ready to go. But I’ve never understood that because I managed to get elected without one! But I wrote something anyway.

Here it is.

Hi, I’m Loomis Beechly and I’m asking for your vote to represent the 9th district in Congress. I could tell you that I’m the best person in the world for this job, but we both know that’s not true. There are lots of nice folks who would be excellent Members of Congress, but they’re not running and I am.

I could tell you that I’m just like you, and that I will do what you would do if you went to Washington in my place. But that’s impossible. Only you can be you. I have to be me. Some days, I can barely pull that off, but I promise I will always, always try.

They say I should have clear talking points on every issue, but I just can’t remember what my positions are supposed to be and so I’ll always say whatever comes into my head. Some people argue that this makes me unfit for office, but I disagree. Yes, I’m inconsistent, but I’ve always been that way. It’s true that I sometimes have changeable policies, but that’s my way of fully representing every single person in my district. People’s views vary. It’s my goal to be in complete agreement with each of my constituents for at least one minute during the course of my service. Maybe the timing will work out and I’ll cast an important vote during the sixty seconds I totally agree with YOU!

I know it’s not the usual bio, but that’s who I am and I hope that’s good enough to convince you to give me your boat.

I mean your vote.

So that’s my speech. If we get caught in an elevator somewhere on the campaign trail over the next few weeks, now you already know what I’m going to say. Unless something else comes to mind!

See you on the campaign trail,

Loomis Beechly

What’s YOUR opening statement?

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I’ve spent the summer working hard around the hive – I don’t mind. I’m a drone and it’s my job. But there comes a time when the season changes and the work ends and we’re free to go out and look for sugar, which is remarkably easy to find around trash cans and any other place people toss their half-filled pop containers. Just about everywhere, it turns out.

It’s a magical and tragic time for us – we get to tank up on the sweet stuff before we die, which we all will do in short order, me included. Again – that bummer comes as part of the gig. My feelings make no difference at all, so I’m resigned to my fate.

But here’s what frosts me, Dr. Babooner. People waving their hands around in the air and running for cover or trying to crush me just because I happen to be buzzing around. They think I’ve come to attack them, and that is simply NOT TRUE! I really don’t care about them, except when they lunge at me.

Just yesterday I spent the day between a window and a window shade in this guy’s bedroom. I’d fly up to the top of the window and he’s throw a slipper at me and then cower in the doorway. His aim was lousy so I’d survive, but five minutes later he’s slapping at me with a rolled up newspaper, his other arm draped over his head to protect himself. Oh, and the whole while, he’s shrieking.

Here’s what I want to tell him: Look at me. I’m weak. I’m confused. A little dizzy. I’m going to die! Maybe sooner than I think out of embarrassment for you over the way you flail and screech.

Please, let’s all behave with some dignity – is that too much to ask?

Dizzily,
Waspy D. Pest

Here’s what I told Waspy; “Asking other people to behave with “dignity” is sometimes too much to ask, especially when those people are terrified. Frightened people don’t obey logic and can’t make sense. Your best course is to avoid them. Unfortunately, there is something about you that sends certain people into a frenzy and that will always be true no matter what you do. Ultimately I can only offer you your own advice – You’re going to die. So accept your fate and enjoy the nice weather. Get your fill of spilled pop and rotting fruit while you can, and avoid confrontations even when they come looking for you! And for heavens sake, don’t get caught between the window and the shade. What a terrible place to spend your final hours!”

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?