Well.

Mmm-hmm.

Lotsa weather weíre having, ainít it?

Oh, yeah, you guessed it. Itís that time again. Sure thing. You know it by now, you can see it coming.

I ainít got a dadblamed thing to say.

Itís 10:50 a.m. on Wednesday. I shoulda had this column written, edited, proofed and laid out on the page by now. But itís one of those times. Dry as a bone. Desiccated. You could pour salt all over me and I couldnít be any more dry.

Whatís a guy to do? No puppy news. Patches hasnít done anything overtly funny, vicious or amazing. Pretty much, life is good and Iím pretty happy. No mishaps. No "funny thing happened to me on the way to the office this morning."

Dull? Never. Writable? Dunno.

So.

Yep, yep, yep.

I hear we bombed a target in Somalia. Well, I am half-tempted to harp on that, but you all know what I think of our imperialistic behavior and that shrub in Washington. Best leave it alone. I mean, heís got a year to do all the damage he can, why should we be surprised? Twit.

Could mention something or another about the fact that the Louisiana Gaming Control Board meets March 18, and thatís when the Amelia Belleís owners are supposed to propose switching out that boat with the one in Baton Rouge. But the agenda wonít be out until the 16th or so, so who knows?

UhmÖ

Yep. Right. Sure, okay.

The documentary we ran a story about, chronicling the history of "Louisiana Story" a film made in the 1940s, and the original movie itself, airs tonight on LPB. The documentary is at 7 p.m. and I think the movie airs after it. I got my hands on an advance copy of the documentary, and itís excellent.

I, unfortunately, may still be at a meeting of the Franklin Building Maintenance Commission, which by the way, seems to have ignited a few demolitions in the last few days. Kudos. Some of these derelicts have been hanging on too long, a six-penny nail all that stood between standing and collapsing. Still, I hope they let me go in time to go watch the show.

So, there you go.

Right as rain.

You can take it to the bank. Clichés, anyone?

I mentioned my puppy was named Bogie, after that estimable actor of the past. Buddy of mine loaned me a voluminous autobiography on Mr. Bogart himself, which I plan to devour soon as my girlfriendís done with it!

We were watching the Academy Awards the other night, and they were doing these montages of clips from past winners in each category. I couldnít help but be struck by how those five-second clips of people like Bogart, Bergman, John Wayne, Kate Hepburn, Kirk Douglas, Cary Grant, Lauren Bacall, Gregory PeckÖall those folks there in stark black and white, just seemed to tower over and outshine virtually anyone presenting or accepting awards that night. You could put John Wayne in a room with Stallone, Segal and Vin Diesel, and theyíd seem small and insignificant compared to the powerful, all-enveloping presence of The Duke.

Girls were girls and men were men, Edith and Archie sang. Ainít it the truth.

There are exceptions. Harrison Ford, in my opinion, could have been a golden-age actor for the big studios. Sean Connery could have. A few like that. The rest, bah.

Favorite Bogart movie: "Casablanca."

Favorite line(s) from said movie:

Major Strasser: What is your nationality?

Rick: I'm a drunkard.

Hee, hee, hee. Only Bogie could have delivered that line!

And thatís all I got to say about that.

Mmm-hmm. Yessir. No doubt about it.

AndÖ

Uhm.

This is like a Seinfeld episode, isnít it? A whole lot of nothing. Any minute now, the doorís going to burst open and Kramerís going to come sliding in. Iím telling you, if he ainít the reincarnation of Shemp HowardÖ

Guess thatís all I got to say about anything, after all. Well, maybe next time. Go watch a good movie, preferably one by John Ford or Howard Hawks, Curtiz or Selznick.

Meanwhile, Iíll try to think of something else to say.