After I got out of the slammer, meaning my last job, it was a new world.

A memoir I must get to one day is how I found myself with hours I never had before.

The dog wanted out. The dishes needed washing. So did the clothes. I moved stuff around in the garage. 

But I actually had time to do those things.And that was nice. 

So what happened when I ran out of things to do? Well, instead of exercising, or looking in the classifieds, I went for the remote.

On Tru.TV, I had a chance to catch up with the McGreaveys, Jim and Dina. They’re getting a divorce.

You may recall when the New Jersey governor resigned shortly after announcing, “I am a gay American.”

Neither one of them came off looking very good during the trial. He acted like a deadbeat dad and she a gold-digger.

One observer called them, “The McGreedys.” He claimed all his money was going to divinity school (he apparently wants to be a gay American minister, too). And she didn’t want to pursue employment other than going on Larry King every time there was a scandal. Although both had written best-selling books about their ordeal, they claimed to have made very little money.

To me though, the most interesting thing was that the New Jersey governor’s mansion has a name, and it’s a very weird one.

In Louisiana and Texas, of course, we’re happy with the phrase, “The Governor’s Mansion.” 

In the Garden State, the building is called “Drumthwacket.”

Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?

According to the mansion’s official Web site, it’s a Scottish Gaelic term meaning “wooded hill.”

So maybe this daytime television thing wasn’t so bad. I was actually learning something.

Another show slightly less educational on the Discovery Channel is called “A Haunting.” It’s an interesting program that always has the same plot. Supposedly based on a true story, a house is haunted and a psychic is called.

If that doesn’t work, a Catholic priest blesses the house. If that fails, an exorcist is called. In the end, either the family moves out and the spirit follows them; they move out and the spirit stays to haunt the next family; or they stay and report no more activity. I don’t know why I like the show because I don’t really believe in ghosts. I used to though.

As a teenager 30 years ago, I read everything I could find about UFOs, Bigfoot, Nessie and the Bermuda Triangle.

I wrote a column about it once and a noted outdoorsman e-mailed an offer to take me out to the Big Thicket one evening camping. He said I would experience weird, unexplainable things and he knew all the hot spots.

We never got around to setting a date, but that’s OK.
In 2008, I find Beaumont scary enough in the daytime.