Checking over the crib notes:  No, it's all still true.  Officials sputter simultaneously at cross-purposes, all contradictions. Israel could attack Iran in the spring over fears Iran has nuclear weapons.  No, hang on -- no, not any right now -- but they might have nukes, someday. You never know. It could happen. It could be.

If another war's on the line, you think there'd be an effort to get the story straight.  Oh -- wait:  Sorry, that rule doesn't apply for countries starting with the letter "I."

Here we are again, another Theater of War -- is Iran in the same metroplex for these horror show festivals? -- and we're stuck, watching the Previews of Coming Destruction.  They won't quit playing, no matter what we do or say.

Our leaders are all on screen in this long shot, all in a row, gesturing, all cowboying up, ready to slap leather and draw down, Western style, with these villains in the Mid-East once again.  Iran's got the short straw, they'll catch some hot lead -- lest they give up their science and surrender, or else, get shot dead.

The Secretary for War -- c'mon, that's what it is -- has said "all options are on the table" regrding Iran, and has stated, in an almost-yawning aside, that Israel could attack in the spring.

It's a good time to ask:  Anyone else got their hackles up? Anyone loopy on deja vu? Anybody got the bends, come up too fast from the depths, nitrogen bubbling away in their blood?

Anyone here got that swooning, sickly sensation, salmonella on steroids, those pangs shooting straight through you, those icy fingers stabbing right inside you, those waves slamming around in your stomach, all of a sudden, made up of a cold, greasy stew, or whatever it was got poured out of that soup pot, what in hell was it -- soured pea soup?

Today, there's a huge game afoot in Indiana;  also, some football will be played.

The Really Big Game in town, or course, is to crush your opponents, to hurt them bad enough they may never be able to make their goals, to hurt them so badly they will never be able to settle any scores.  That game's about politics.

The real battle of giants and patriots is outside, in the parking lot at The Big Game -- the corporations lined up against the regular, everyday people who try to do what's right and best for themselves and their country.  It's a grudge match, all right -- the mightiest One Percent against all the rest.