Life's a crapshoot, so I'm going to Mohegan Sun. Where's Tim Russert when we need him? And can the Mets save themselves?

As many (if not most) of you know, the market was down 372.75 points today as Congress and the Bush administration worked on/out that $700 billion taxpayer-funded bailout plan. Personally, I am spitting mad at the thought of having taxpayers bail out a bunch of greedy investment bankers, mortgage wheeler-dealers, absent actuaries, and foolhardy financiers who should have and most likely did know better but hoped and prayed this day would never come -- or would come after they had socked away more than enough to weather the eventual s**t storm.

However, since the government seems to be willing to bail out just about anyone with big enough losses, I have decided to liquidate what's left of my portfolio and get me to Mohegan Sun tomorrow, as soon as the kid heads off on the school bus. If I lose, I will just write a letter to Congressman Chris Shays respectfully requesting the government and/or taxpayers reimburse me for stupidly gambling away my life savings -- and allowing the good croupiers at Mohegan Sun to take unfair advantage of me. (In the meantime, I plan on having a jolly good time playing the slots and blackjack and having a martini -- maybe two! -- at Leffingwells, which opens at 11 a.m.)

And speaking of bailing... Where the heck were journalists as this crisis loomed and why have they not been talking up more about the increasingly erratic and angry McCain campaign and it's shocking disregard for the truth and facts?

Yes, yes, I know there are many pundits and politicos, including the folks over at the George Stephanopoulos Show (aka This Week), who are starting to show some real outrage re what's been going down economically and politically. But where is Tim Russert when you need him?! (And yes, I know he's dead. I am speaking metaphorically.)

MSNBC has been flailing around since Russert's untimely departure -- and boy could they, and we, have used him. Now more than ever.

Tim, if you're out there, can you, please, go contact Whoopi Goldberg, like Patrick Swayze did in Ghost, and hold McCain's feet to the proverbial flame? (Actually, maybe he already has.)

And speaking of flames, or flaming out, how 'bout them Mets, huh? As I type this, the New York Mets are having their collective feet held to another fire -- or perhaps more accurately, getting their asses kicked and/or balls busted -- by the Chicago Cubs 7 - 2 in the top of the fifth. (Weeping.) As a Mets fan since way back (after their '69 miracle year but long before their next World Series win in '86), I am used to the Mets blowing it, but there is only so much I can take. And I ain't getting any younger. Are there no relief pitchers out there to make the hurt go away?

Well, at least the Giants won yesterday. (Take THAT Ocho Cinkhole.)