There are three groups of people whose work is never finished. The first of these are the guys who apparently spend their entire working lives painting the Golden Gate Bridge. The second group consists of housewives. That reminds me that I’ve always had a sneaky suspicion that after giving birth the first time, the only reason that women have additional babies is so they’ll have a little bed rest along the way. The third group is far smaller in number, consisting of those of us whose lot in life is to try to make sense of all the non-stop goofiness.

For instance, how is it that so many people are insisting that Barry Bonds is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law? Courts, after all, are places where duplicitous lawyers often manage to pull the wool over the eyes of really dumb jurors and incompetent judges. Oh, I’m not denying that “innocent until proven guilty” has a nice ring to it, but I much prefer to believe my own eyes. I say that anyone who isn’t convinced that Bonds is a walking commercial for Balco’s chemical products is a ninny. One only has to look at the numbers. I’m not just referring to the fact that in his 14 seasons prior to 1999, he averaged 31 homers a year, while suddenly between the ages of 36 and 40, Bonds averaged 51, with season totals of 49, 73, 46, 45 and 45.

As intriguing as those statistics are, I’m referring to those other suspicious numbers relating to the man’s physical dimensions. It’s not just that his head and body have expanded in the same magical way as the Hulk, but his baseball cap could now be worn comfortably by the Goodyear blimp and he’s now wearing shoes three sizes larger than before he was Balconized. If you really believe that occurs as the natural result of working out in the gym, I have a lovely bridge I’d like to sell you, and it’s not the Golden Gate. Other than as a result of human growth hormones, there’s only one other way his shoe size could have increased that dramatically and I, for one, would have had to have witnessed the elephant actually stepping on his feet.

Just one more thing: If, as I’m sure his defense attorneys are going to insist, Bonds didn’t knowingly use human growth steroids, how is it he never got around to suing Balco for turning him into a circus freak?

Moving on, I’d like to know why China is still allowed to sell their damn toys in America. The only ones that aren’t made of lead are loaded with the date rape drug. Is Washington waiting for the products to be radioactive before telling the Commies what they can do with their junk? Frankly, anybody who keeps buying this crap for their kids should be arrested for child abuse. And if Santa is caught stuffing any of this garbage in Christmas stockings, I want him tossed in the slammer, too.

Finally, I find myself wondering if Hillary Clinton’s ego is even bigger than Barry’s feet. I mean, was I the only person who distinctly heard her insist during the last debate that Americans have known exactly what she’s been thinking for the past 35 years? The woman was born, quite appropriately, just a few days before Halloween, in 1947. That means she is 60, and that 35 years ago she was 25. The year was 1972, and she was nothing more or less than a law student at Yale. Is she really so deluded that she actually believes Americans were somehow listening in on her conversations in the student union?

This may come as a shock to the ice princess, but America had never even heard of her until 15 years ago when her clinically dysfunctional husband ran for president. But perhaps because that decade and a half has been so jam-packed with political scandals and sexual escapades, it just seems like 35 years to her. God knows it seems even longer to me.