Looking and talking like a radical Muslim, Mr. Mel Gibson has gone a little too far. He staunchly defended his flick, Passion of the Christ, as a simple history story, with no offense intended toward Jews, but his drunken comments to police during his DWI arrest have made sure his next movie, Apocalypto, will be warmly received in the Muslim world and cooly received at home. Personally, I'm looking forward to it, but I hope it's not in some ancient Mayan dialect with subtitles.

Here's what happened in Malibu: Mel was at home watching CNN and having a few drinks when it dawned on him, like it has the rest of us, that the current state of affairs in the Middle East is a total mess. He jumped in his car and hit the road, pissed off and probably chain-smoking Marlboros. He gets pulled over and vents his wrath on some cops, who rat him out to the media.

And now, the RFB Worst Journalist in the History of the Universe Award goes to the smarmy and foolish Tucker (rhymes with...) Carlson, host of the sickening MSNBC show Tucker. Carlson is a complete idiot, total tool and pathetic excuse for a reporter. He can't complete a sentence, hold an intelligent conversation or finish a thought. He is the most PC, ass-kissing, suck-up weasel that ever graced my cathode ray tube.

Here's what needs to happen to Tucker and his ilk.

I can't watch this guy and not think of all the fratboy idiots I used to avoid. He exudes a certain smugness that is reserved for silver-spooned jackasses. He's the son of Richard W. Carlson, who was president and CEO of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting from 1992 to 1997 and former U.S. Ambassador to the Seychelles. His stepmother is Patricia Carlson, heiress to the Swanson frozen-food fortune.

TV dinners. Appropriate.

Are you a self-starter? Do you see solutions where others see only problems? Can you gain the respect of both Muslims and Jews?

If you answered "yes" to all of these questions, the United Nations may want to talk to you!

The ideal candidate will have a proven track record of negotiating between hostile parties. Successful war resolution experience a plus.

Must be able to think on your feet while balancing a heavy load, extinguishing conflicts with aplomb, charm and unmatched skill. Must be willing to relocate to Jerusalem.

If you think you meet the qualifications of this very demanding position, please send your resume and cover letter to antichrist@un.org.

I don't even remember how I found Ahmad Humeid's blog. Ahmad is a designer/businessman from Jordan with a growing audience for his blog. A few people of very different political stripes are hashing things out regarding the Middle East. There are hardcore Hezbollah supporters over there as well as hardcore Zionists. As soon as the shouting dies down and the extremists on both sides sit back down, we might actually get somewhere.

I'm telling you, give me a Frisbee and ten minutes and I can get a Right Wing Israeli Jew and the most radical Hezbollah leader smiling and having fun together. Then maybe we can talk. (OK, we might need to start with a beer, if their faiths will allow.)

Meanwhile, while others of us talk and others of us fight, LTC Mark down in Tampa has been busting his rear getting Americans out of Lebanon, coordinating Navy, Air Force, Army, Marine and civilian efforts for a bunch of US citizens, many of whom are airing their gripes on the news, complaining of the poor conditions and lousy food. Those who complain should be brought back to Lebanon and told to find their own way out. Unbelievable, really, the attitudes of some Americans.

This lovely image of Israeli girls writing messages on tank shells bound for Lebanon is wonderful, isn't it? But I guess, as The Prez said, we just need to get Syria to tell Hezbollah to stop this sh** and it'll all be over.

Losers, all.

And lest we think this is just an Israeli problem of teaching kids to hate, witness this young Palestinian Hamas supporter. Touching, isn't it?

I'm ready to move to another planet. This one is beyond hope.

Thanks to a Jordanian blogger for the images and story.

Francophiles would've had a much better day today had they also won the World Cup, but boys will be boys - and if you called me a dirty terrorist as I was attempting to lead my country to international glory, I'd probably headbutt you too.

It can't be easy anymore being French on the world stage. They've lost their touch. They've been cast in a supporting role - and are no longer a leading lady.

Creativity feels sapped today, and other than some crazy divorcing guy blowing up his house in Manhattan, there's not a lot on the news front. So may as well keep you apprised of the random stuff we're trying to get done here at RFB.

Do you ever get overwhelmed with the stimulation of today's hyper-connected world? We're all answering emails, phone calls, updating web content and posting to blogs. We've got more things bookmarked and so much to watch on TV that we have to record it.

What we need is the occassional retreat into the Media Free Zone. Get one in your home now.

The picture at left represents what we in the groundskeeping business call "Cake." The edge makes all the difference - that chocolately goodness - and it's what separates the Disneys from the Dollywoods and the professional groundskeepers from the weekend lawn mowers.

Spent the weekend tending the grounds, while K spent it assisting the Creative Division in changing some navigation on the site and making sure key personnel at RFB get email notifications when someone fills out a form here on the site, rather than said personnel having to fill out a form to get someone from IT to read the databases for them.

I always find it disturbing when any one person (besides the top elected official) feels that they can speak on behalf of an entire nation, if they do, they should at least state their opinion as an opinion instead of condescendingly talking as fact. That's not to say that there isn't a lot of truths in your essay but, I like to stress the dangers of generalizations concerning nationalities. I believe that ignorance itself can be far more dangerous than any weapon your country can create.

Steve, my man - you guys spawned Ackroyd, John Candy, Neil Young, Rush, and even William Freaking Shatner. Surely you'd recognize sarcasm and satire. Ah well. Sorry, eh?