Everybody wants to rule the world.

It had to happen. The woman must realize that the universe is not entirely at her beck and call.

You see, if she had everything the way she chose, terrorists would end up like Wyle E. Coyote: on the receiving end of all the ACME weapons he intended would harm the Road Runner. But then she heard of the Londoners in dark tunnels, and a little part of her died with them.

If the world were by her design, politics for their own sake would never have a dog in the fight, laws could be evaluated by truth and justice alone. But then she read about O'Connor and Gonzales, and Bush and 'the Coalition', and a little part of her recoiled in disgust.

If it were up to her, athletes could be admired and compensated based on their societal contributions, not advertising revenues...and so could teachers. But even if Lance wins the Tour, and the Mariners - another game, Mrs. Podoll will still be left to bestow love and learning on yet another class of 2nd-graders for not one penny more. And yet another little part of the woman felt sick.

The stark reality is that none of it is what she would select were the selection available to her. And the sense of futility lay oppressive like a wool blanket on a Louisiana summer night.