"If you have to ask..."

J.P. Morgan said it famously about yachts, that if you had to ask how much one costs, then you couldn't afford one.

This is pretty much the case with a Bentley; unlike most cars on the internet, which feature 'build your own' software, as you construct a Bentley you'll be hard-pressed to find a price tag. If you're really curious, a used 2004 'B' cheapie goes for around $135,000.

Funny car, the Bentley. Bought by Volkswagen (that's right!) in the late 90s and resurrected to its former glory by swarms of Teutonic race fanatics who actually won LeMans 2003, the Bentley easily outsells the BMW Rolls Royce (which is doing OK). Rolls has continued its lock on the 'Heads of State' market, but Bentley has discovered a super-rich niche who want a bit more power and pizazz -- hip-hop superstars prefer the 'B' -- for 'bling?'

With Bentley, you may be paying for power and sheer luxury, both of which it has in abundance. What else is there? Gadgets, my friend, little geegaws that make a driver's heart flutter. I found out that two of my absolute favorites are NOT available on a Bentley.

Adaptive cruise control, in which mode the car will automatically brake and accelerate based on proximity to traffic, isn't available until 2009. Benz, Audi, even Cadillac all have had the option for a few years.

Then there's my favorite, a little yellow light in the driver's side mirror that blinks when a vehicle is occupying the blind spot. Not available, and no plans to get it. I guess the feeling is, 'that's what you hire a chauffeur for.'

If you've got the megabucks necessary to sidestep J.P. Morgan, what car should you buy? I hate to admit it, but the Bentleys are zeroing in on that fantasy.

Police acquitted over NY shooting

A judge in New York has acquitted three police officers who shot dead an unarmed man hours before his wedding.
Sean Bell, 23, who was black, was shot as he left a strip club in the suburb of Queens in November 2006.
Two detectives, Michael Oliver and Gescard Isnora, faced charges of manslaughter. A third, Marc Cooper, had been accused of reckless endangerment. ( Photo: Detectives Marc Cooper, left, Gescard F. Isnora, center, and Michael Oliver after their acquittal.)

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Anyone with a lick of common sense knows what happened here. It wasn't racism, it wasn't self defense, it wasn't murder. It was three out-of-control cops with insufficient training, macho blue mystique and piss-poor judgment who made a grievous mistake and killed somebody.

What do you do with guys like that? You certainly can't throw them to the Sharpton wolves, but neither can you acquit them of all wrongdoing. A Solomon like judgment was needed here, and it wasn't forthcoming.

Some thoughts: They should not be allowed to continue their careers, and their dismissal should be explicitly for the reaons cited above. Great care should be taken in the wording, so that the vast majority of honest, hard-working police don't feel that their jobs and responsibilities have been restricted or compromised.

They should all pay stiff reparations to the involved families. They should NOT be arrested and charged with crimes, but they should be punished with some form of restricted freedom and imposed accountability.

There may be better answers than these. Our judicial system should've found some of them.

Snoopy wasn't even there!

Baron Manfred von Richthofen was killed just after 11 a.m. on 21 April 1918, while flying over Morlancourt Ridge, near the Somme River.

At the time the Baron had been pursuing (at very low altitude) a Sopwith Camel piloted by a novice Canadian pilot, Lieutenant Wilfrid "Wop" May of No. 209 Squadron, Royal Air Force. In turn, the Baron was spotted and briefly attacked by a Camel piloted by a school friend (and flight Commander) of May, Canadian Captain Arthur "Roy" Brown, who had to dive steeply at very high speed to intervene, and then had to climb steeply to avoid hitting the ground.

Richthofen turned to avoid this attack, and then resumed his pursuit of May. It was almost certainly during the last stage of this pursuit that Richthofen was hit by a single .303 bullet that caused such severe damage to his heart and lungs that it must have produced a very speedy death. In the last seconds of his life, he managed to make a hasty but controlled landing in a field on a hill near the Bray-Corbie road, just north of the village of Vaux-sur-Somme, in a sector controlled by the Australian Imperial Force (AIF).

His Fokker was not badly damaged by the landing, but it was speedily demolished by souvenir hunters. One witness, Gunner George Ridgway, stated that when he and other Australian soldiers reached the plane, Richthofen was still alive but died moments later.[7] Another eye witness, Sgt Ted Smout of the Australian Medical Corps, reported that Richthofen's last word was "kaputt" ("broken") immediately before he died.[8] No. 3 Squadron of the Australian Flying Corps, the nearest Allied air unit, assumed responsibility for von Richthofen's remains, and performed a full British military funeral in his honour.

A Story -- Work in Progress

Vice Admiral, retired Frank Halloran plodded barefoot to the end of the floating dock, his navy blue pajamas fluttering lightly in a pre-dawn breeze. After 30 years, he still couldn�t break the early-rising habit he acquired as a new pilot on the USS Ticonderoga, flying sorties over Vietnam. He settled into the weathered Adirondack chair, crossing his long legs, cradling his USN mug of hot coffee in his weathered hands. His beloved Pocahantas, a painstakingly restored PBY-5A, floated serenely beside him, close enough for him to reach one of the tethering lines. He carefully placed his mug on the chair�s slightly uptilted arm ��Don�t move, you son of a bitch,� he commanded � while he strummed the line. His fingers combed through his thinning white hair.

Rangely Lake could be remarkably quiet in the morning, and this was one of those mornings. A still night had gradually transformed the surface to glass, and the big seaplane sat squat and still, her pontoon hull clicking on the blue sheen almost surreptitiously, twin Hurricane engines at the ready. Frank sipped his coffee and smiled. He heard a loon dive for its breakfast, breaking the lake surface perhaps a hundred yards away. Slowly the placid scene would fade as Rangely awoke for the day. First one loon, then another, then a canoe or perhaps an electrified rowboat. Frank lit up a Camel, inhaled deeply and blew the smoke defiantly skyward. His morning e-mail had contained about a half-dozen Viagra spams; all were filtered out save the one that promised he�d �fly like an eagle.� He ran it through the crypto program. �Freemantle enroute. ETA Vinalhaven 0300 8/7.� Frank puffed again and watched the exhale waft over the lake.

The Osiris Project had been dormant for almost 20 years. Two trials, two deaths � all fast, all with no intel, each bringing more cover-up lies and red ink zeros. He finished his coffee, carefully field-stripped the Camel butt and pushed the tiny paper remains down his PJ vest pocket. Why that pocket never filled was, he laughed to himself, yet another proof of the existence of God.

�Put a fork in me, I�m done,� he thought. �I�d sooner try to fly the damn thing myself than waste another pilot who hasn�t seen his 30th birthday.�

�Ah, shit!� He thought of the half-dozen buddies who never made it back to the Ticonderoga. �It�s like the Air Force says � live in fame go down in flame � we�re not twisting any arms here; he says yes, he goes.� He stood up, spat into the water and padded back to the house. The dew on the grass soaked his Navy issue slippers. He kicked them off � Nancy would�ve beamed � and walked into the kitchen barefoot.

Double 0 Rides Again

Will the Daniel Craig Bond continue blazing the new trail of the last 'Casino Royale,' or will fast-buck Hollywood succumb to formulaic fast-action?

Scheduled for release in November, 'Quantum of Solace' has some wild and wooly betting, with the votes about evenly split on 'disaster in the making' and 'Bond Lives!'

Click on the title for the official IMDB site. (This pic from the flick shows that, if nothing else, James gets his hair mussed!)

But what is he driving?