A few days ago I drove along Red Arrow Highway through Paw Paw, Michigan.

Now, did you hear about the fellow who went for a 50 mile-per-hour wheelchair ride in rural Michigan?

It's a true story. A guy in a wheelchair was crossing through a service station, when somehow his wheelchair became entangled with the grille of a truck. As the truck pulled on the road, the driver could not see the wheelchair and had no idea the guy was there!

My grandmother lives four miles from where this happened. Paw Paw is a small town, and the area surrounding it is sparsely populated orchard and farm land. The roads move at 45-60 miles per hour. Worse, outside of town, Red Arrow Highway gets really hilly really fast. The stretch of it where my grandparents lived was rife with hurtling and even squealing autos.

In other words, this guy was in for a heck of a two-mile ride!

The wild ride only stopped after passing motorists phoned in to the police: "You're not going to believe this ..."

When this thing broke on the news a couple months ago, several people said, "You wish that was you, don't you?"

What can I say? I do!

However, I'll attach a big IF. I would totally wish that was me, if and only if I knew that (like the guy this actually happened to) I would still be in one piece at the end of the two-mile rollercoaster. Then, after I checked that all my limbs were still attached, I would yell, "Again! Again! Do it again!"

But I really can't act like a tough guy, because I know that road. And I know that was one scared mother******.

Before we go, one final item from the "truth is stranger than fiction" file (WARNING: strange pottymouth language):

LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!

What the heck is going on out there!

Considering our ubiquitous media, reality programs and Springer-type shows, I've been saying for a long time that it's just about impossible to write satire anymore. How can you possibly outdo all of the mind-blowing weirdness we witness on a daily basis nowadays? And for free!

Each time one of these hot new writers from New York publishes what he thinks is an acidic condemnation of our trashy society, fancying himself a latter-day Heller or Vonnegut, I shake my head. Another naïve boy just out of private school, who missed the boat by two decades.

Am I harsh? Think about

• Watching OJ being chased on an LA freeway, live.
• Being a Google click away from fresh gynecological-quality photos of Lindsay and Britney only hours after each new bender. (That's painful to think about, sorry.)
• Viewing real carnage from the tip of a laser-guided missile, a guerrilla's camcorder or a terrorist's webcam?

I ask you, how is some upper-middle-class literary mope in a turtleneck going to top the freak show called Real Life?

The same holds true for filmmakers. Even the wildest, most imaginative ones, like Robert Rodriguez. He's given us some truly memorable moments from seriously bizarre scenarios. (Salma Hayak the vampire comes to mind, growlll.)

For instance, Rodriguez's last film, Grindhouse, featured a female character whose prosthetic leg was a machine gun. Goofy ... mind-tripping, right?

Yes, but welcome to the real world. Here is the real jungle, where that sort of thing is no big whup.

Exhibit One. I'd gotten wind of a story about a woman who was beaten with her own artificial leg. Not beaten as in poker or chess -- but beaten as in black and blue. I had to check this out.

Turns out it's not quite true, but almost as strange. An 18-year-old Elyria, Ohio, woman, Gina McKee, bravely confronted a man who allegedly swiped another's wallet at a mini mart. The gallant, Lemuell Voorhees, 45, yelled at and punched McKee. She went toe to toe with him, giving him right back, so first he threw his bicycle at her. Charming. But then he took off his fake leg and allegedly clunked her with it!

The story ends well. McKee sustained only a minor hand injury. Voorhees is apprehended. I assume the leg goes with him, and not to the evidence room.

See the news video here.

For more details, read the news story here.

Weird enough. But as I searched, I found this story from Burbank, in south suburban Chicago. A group of teenage boys attacked a 15-year-old and his friends with the kid's own prosthetic leg.

D.J. Choate was jumped by some drunk guys in a car. They took his artificial leg and beat Kyle Keene, who had tried to help his friend D.J. Keene was taken away in an ambulance, and Choate was left hobbled for days without a leg.

That's right, another prosthetic leg attack! One attack is an isolated incident, but is two attacks considered a "wave"? Is there a roving gang of prosthetic leg attackers?

Choate felt upset and violated, understandably, but within days, enough donations from the community, hospitals, and Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich, had poured in to purchase a $5,000 replacement leg. Keene was discharged from the hospital. The boys identified their attackers in a lineup. A random act of teenaged violence.

You'll find the video, story and photos here.

Truth is stranger than fiction.

THE DEATH OF AMERICAN JOURNALISM! DETAILS INSIDE!

Elvis is alive! He is alive! We know this. It is an absolute fact. Elvis' tomb lies empty. Elvis' statue has been found on Mars. And do you know where he is now? Elvis is living in seclusion in the back of a diner around Tennessee or Alabama.

How do we know this?

The Weekly World News. The little paper that's not afraid to take a stand. The one that boldly goes where no mainstream paper has gone before!

Like in the field of technology:

Possessed Oven Burns Pizzas With the Devils Mark!
Napoleon Lives in My Toaster,
Spirit of Elvis Defuses Live Nuke.

Or medical breakthroughs:

New Hope for the Dead -- Doctors Amazed!
George W. Bush Gets Brain Transplant,
Blind Man Regains Sight and Dumps Ugly Wife.

Ladies and gentlemen, are you sick of hearing about Paris Hilton? Do you tire of endless coverage of partisan bickering? Then in this cynical wasteland, the Weekly World News is your ray of hope. But lo, a media conglomerate has captured this beacon of journalism, and wants to turn out the lights, forever.

Which is all political, of course. Here's why.

The government doesn't want you to know it. Schools suppress it. It's not the topic of polite conversation. Only in the pages of the Weekly World News will you learn:

Space Aliens Ate My Laundry,
Coyotes Protect Alien Baby From Cops,
UFO Shoots Down Angel.

Space Alien Meets Ross Perot,
but Space Alien later backs Bill Clinton.

Hillary Clinton Adopts Alien Baby -- which I question, because is Hillary Clinton kind enough to adopt?

Twelve U.S. Senators Are Space Aliens -- that one was taped to the wall in the Senate press gallery, though the more grizzled reporters complained they undercounted.

Now, no more columns either from Ed Anger, who gets so pig-biting mad (his favorite phrase), that he makes Dick Cheney look like Howdy Doody after a first kiss. One word: integrity.

I ask you, what are we going to do now? About the state of journalism, yes, but what I'm talking about is in the express lane at the supermarket. It says 10 items or less, but there's always a jerk who wheels up with a whole cart, then he bounces his credit card, and what are we going to do with no Weekly World News on the shelf? With its fantastic stories that brighten my entire week. Each time, I turn to my wife: 'Hey honey, guess what? Headless body found in topless bar!' She shakes her head. It doesn't brighten her week, it frightens it.

In a country that values free speech, we need a paper that's practical:
10 Signs Your Neighbor Is a Werewolf (they include Large pets disappear, and He circles three times before using your couch)

A paper that's hopeful:
We Beatles fans know a reunion is out of the question, but there's reason for excitement when John Lennon's Parrot Cuts New Beatles Record.

Spiritual:
Heaven Captured by Hubble Telescope -- and there's even a glorious shimmering picture for any of you doubters out there.

Or uplifting!
Man Cuts Off Own Head With Chainsaw, and Lives!

And educational:
World's Smartest Ape Goes to College -- Chimp With a 150 IQ Lands Scholarship to State University! As a student at Empire Carpet Community College, I felt good reading that one, because in a few years, I'll be getting coffee for a monkey.

What a sad day for the once bright-eyed journalism student you see before you now. A sad day too for an orphan boy found hanging upside down years ago in a dark Kentucky cave. The Bat Boy roamed the countryside, feeding on varmints and milk cows, pursued by bounty hunters -- when all he wanted was a home. Instead, he was renditioned to an undisclosed location by the FBI, and his tragic story became an off-Broadway musical. You're not alone anymore, Bat Boy, because we're all feeling renditioned now that the Weekly World News has left the building.

On this bittersweet occasion, my dear readers, and all of you people of Earth, my mission here is done. I leave you now for my home planet, Vernobulax. But we shall return again, when Elvis runs out of peanut butter and bananas. I bid you peace.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, be you American or not.

As I get older, I know less and less about life.  But one thing I've understood more is that to make the most of one's life is to live it with gratitude.  Especially in the post-9/11 world, gratitude makes every meeting and every experience richer.

Therefore, Thanksgiving means more to me with each passing year.  Hope yours is a good one!  I'm grateful to you.  You make my life better and more meaningful.

Now, among less important things, a trusty car is something to be cherished, as well.  (Nice segue, Abe.  Too bad, I don't know how long I'll be able to run this item!)

This is on my mind lately.  Now that my niece and my nephew are both licensed drivers, I'm reminded how much I hate cars.  I mean, they are a great convenience, but total money pits.  Seriously, the instant you drive them off the lot you've lost thousands of dollars.  And if they are used, well, cross your fingers, because we've all heard that saying about buying other people's problems.  To me, cars have always been a drag, a necessary evil.  But of course, try explaining that to those kids.

My idea of a perfect car is one that starts and stays out of the shop.  That is the car of my dreams.  Not the one that looks the coolest.  Not the one where I lost my virginity.  I'm attached to the car that turns Mr. Goodwrench to Mr. Goodbye.

On eBay, there is another poor chap who just sold his trusty car.  A black Honda Accord with which he has plenty of fond memories.  I don't know about the Accord's service record, but it has appeared in some awfully memorable movies:

Ben Hur

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

and, yes, King Kong

There are others, too, so hurry on over to that auction page while it lasts and see if you recognize this talented car from any of your favorite movies.  

Thank goodness for trusty cars!

... but this is an amazing story out of Quinlan, Texas, and KENS-5 TV in San Antonio. It's nine minutes long, but I guarantee you'll be glad you watched it.

The Amazing Skidboot

(Thanks, Cheryl, for the heads-up on the broken link.)

Behold the Battle of the Album Covers

How does your favorite album do?

The Wonderblog was featured on the MSN homepage!

I was wondering why my counter was spinning faster than Bill Clinton on the Tilt-a-Whirl the night the carny forgot his glycerin pills. Here I thought it was something magnificent that I'd written.

Belated thanks to Karen and the folks at Live Spaces and MSN.

Thanks for visiting. Now here is your chance to give a lonesome, furry monkey a home.

Please take a moment to help me convince Mrs. Abe that a cute, intelligent monkey

will make a much better house pet than a wiry, snapping chihuahua.

Read The Planet of the Abes. Discuss.

vs.

I really appreciate all who've written and voted for me for What's Your Story? It's been a heck of a fun week.

Enjoy a great fall weekend, and here I'd like to send you on your way with a laugh. My thank you to you:

OK Go's Here It Goes Again video.

Abe

DOES THAT COME WITH MARY ANN?

Need to get away for, say, a three-hour tour? (a three-hour tour?) Then you're in luck, because the S.S. Minnow is for sale!

I'm saying! The original ship from Gilligan's Island is on the block. You know the one, as in:

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip,
That started at this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.

According to the Gilligan's Island Fan Club website, this is one of four Minnows actually used on the show that aired from 1964-1967.

And how much do Minnows go for nowadays?

Well, all 37 feet of ill-fated steerage will run you $99,000. That's $2,675.68 per famous foot.

Here is the sales listing, along with interior photos. Nice. I would have been sleeping in the cabin instead of a hut.

At least they patched up the hole.

Abe's advice for prospective buyers: in your purchase price, be sure to figure in the cost of a different crew.

STEPPIN' OUT

In that difficult time when I had to start using a cane, one of the things that brought a smile to my face was when I found a cherry-wood walking stick ... one with a secret compartment.

The brass handle unscrewed. Inside was a corked test tube that held two fluid ounces. Enough for a double-shot of, well, medicine.

Who knows where or when you might need a little medicine, right? I thought it as my portable first-aid kit.

Plus there was a compass in the handle. Presumably to find my bearings if I had taken too much medicine.

Now that one was cool, but this might be even cooler. It's for sale on eBay--Abe's officially inexpensive disability equipment provider of choice--this week.

Check out the carved mahogany hand--you could beat a werewolf with this thing. And of course, the binoculars. Captain Ahab or Long John Silver could have used this baby.

Or even a certain Chicagoan, back in the day: if he didn't feel like hobbling across Lake Shore Drive, he would still have had a clear view of the sights on Oak Street Beach.

Here are the results of the Washington Post's annual reader photo competition. You'll be awed:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/08/18/AR2006081800298.html

Also, expert tips to improve your own photos:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/08/18/AR2006081800304.html

Eleanor Roosevelt said something like "There are no failures, only bumps in the road."

For a fine example, click the Media Player, or go to http://tinyurl.com/rupop#.wmv

Oh, Paul McCartney!

You just filed for divorce, after being married only a year ... without a pre-nup. Now your $1.5 billion fortune is hanging by a thread.

What were you thinking?

Well you've always been my favorite Beatle, so to cheer you up, I present to you

The Gallery of What Was I Thinking?

What was I thinking?

What was I thinking?

What was I thinking?

By day, Yves Rossy pilots an Airbus for Swiss Air.

But afterward, he straps on 10-foot carbon fiber wings fitted with two lightweight jet engines, and streaks across the sky at 112 mph.

My man! He's also the first to windsurf off of a hot-air balloon.

And all I wanted to do was be shot from a cannon while on fire. Geesh.

Clicking the monkey will make your day.

While waiting, feast your eyes on this, the coolest new widget:

MIT's I/O Brush

The Bayeux Tapestry is some 900 years old and 231 feet long. It depicts the conquest of England by the French Normans in 1066. The invasion tied England's destiny to that of Continental Europe, and changed English society and politics forever--and so it's important to Americans as well.

(By the way, everything in this article is hyperlinked, so you can click any of these names and learn more. For instance, here's a cool site where you can scroll through the entire tapestry. Wonder if it's hanging in Larry Ellison's bedroom.)

The section of the tapestry pictured below depicts Halley's comet. This most famous comet appears every 76 years, and it did in 1066.

Comets used to be regarded as omens or signals from heaven. You can imagine what the people--victors and vanquished both--must have thought when it glowed in the skies above William the Conqueror's invading army. (A comet also appeared over England exactly 600 years later--in the year of the Great Plague and the Great Fire of London.)

Diane, you had most of it right. The inscription is Latin:

MARVELING AT THE STAR.

Mother Ship Fly-By: Asteroid has near-collision with Earth

Which goes to show that if you'll only take the trouble to occupy a foreign land properly, it can pay dividends down the line.