Despite lying in front of Congress about not using steroids, baseball slugger Rafael Palmeiro will not be prosecuted for lying in front of Congress about not using steroids. Tom Davis, R-Va, said there was not enough evidence that Palmeiro lied about steriod use despite having told Congress he had never used steroids six weeks before failing a steroid test. The Republican-dominated congress has had the unenviable task of dealing with ever-changing federal guidelines when it comes to lying, guidelines under continuous development over the course of the Bush Administration's first five years. For instance, ever since President Bush claimed there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq but zero weapons of mass destruction were found in Iraq, "Saying something that just isn't true" is no longer considered a lie. Recently, in the wake of the Karl Rove newspaper source scandal, "refusing to answer a direct question" is no longer considered obfuscation. And ever Representative Tom DeLay was charged with influence peddling by the state of Texas, "flat-out lying" is technically not considered lying unless accompanied by immediate physical damage of over $7,000 dollars. Palmeiro has donated the bat he used to hit his 500th home run to the Republican National Party for use in extorting money from reluctant donors.

In Barry Alvarez' last home game as coach of the University of Wisconsin, the Badgers failed to score on their last nine possessions and lost to Iowa, 20-10. JEFF SEZ: As you probably know by now I'm a cheesehead still at heart. I was on the road in Minnesota between standup gigs and could only watch one half. Fortunately, I picked the first, and I watched UW take a 10-3 lead into the locker room while smoking a magnificent cigar a friend tossed my way. Then I made the Great Fan Mistake of getting in the car. Of taking my eye off them. Of trying to be a rational adult and living my life without the illusion that I had any control whatsoever over a game being played hundreds of miles away by other people. They could do without my one billionth of one percent of good karma, I figured. And so, I spent the entire second half driving through thunderstorms to that night's gig in Rochester, getting sporadic, static-laden, brutally painful sentence fragments from the radio. Even more sickening, it was an Iowa station. "Fourth and 25 for the Badgers!" That one still rings in my head. Perhaps because I heard it on three different occasions. Well, at least I had done the mature thing. I will, of course, never do that again.