The Mrs. and I were invited to the Veep's house this past week to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Art in Embassies program. That's Dick and Lynn Cheney's temporary abode.

The real Ambassador in Moscow: Adam & Eve, ©1989, Susie Krasnican, glass

Forget exporting troops to distant foreign outposts. Art is our best missile defense system. And artists are our most accomplished and eloquent ambassadors. Susie has a piece in the Ambassador's residence in Moscow.

I am a humble Web hack and artist-raconteur. Where in the world can politico sightseeing and hobnobbing be so imbued with power? Especially in these times. It was not my first encounter with the Republican powers-that-be. And I wondered what type of opportunity I might have to affect public policy. On the other hand, I also considered the weather this time a year in Guantanamo.

"What brings you here today, Mr. Gates?" Dr. Warner thumbed through my chart without looking up. "I think I'm growing taller," I said. "That's impossible, Jeff. You're 54 years old."

It appears that Levi's®, one of the oldest maker of jeans, has quietly resized its pant legs. Whatever your previous and long standing inseam measurement, the bottom of your pants now rests comfortably at your ankle. The White House and the Office of Homeland Security refused to comment on the rumor they asked the jean maker to alter its sizes to make Americans appear taller than they really are. But sources close to the White House assured us this is not part of their election year strategy or their quest for global domination.

I have been wearing Levi's for decades. And while my waistline has fluctuated over the years my inseam has remained steady at 30 inches, top of my shoe to my crotch. While I am an average 5\'9\" I'm fairly long-waisted (and short-legged).

But all of a sudden my longstanding length is too short. At first I thought my jeans must have shrunk over the multitude of washings and dryings. Or maybe my posture improvement regimen had altered my height. I was standing straighter and taller than I had in years (worldwide domination aside). So a few weeks ago I bought a new pair. Same size. And while they seemed to be just right standing in front of the store's full length mirror, I was becoming suspicious.

The glint from his flesh-colored earpiece and its thick spiral cord first caught my eye. Otherwise his dark brown suit would have kept him hidden amongst the other dark suits walking down Pennsylvania Avenue. He was broadcasting HIGH LEVEL GOVERNMENT PERSONAGE up and down the street. My DNA-enhanced WiFi picked up his Secret Service signal loud and clear and instinctively I began to look around. Standing so close I could touch him was John Ashcroft. He too wore a government-issued uniform tailored to his stature: a gray pinstripe with a crisp white oxford shirt and blood red telegenic tie. His camouflage was...

As CBS was debuting its latest Survivor series, little did we know our family was about to be sequestered on the remote Isle of Darkness, a few blocks from the Sea of Light and Normalcy.

Unlike the TV show, which drops castaways in distant locations for 40 days and nights, we have no idea how long our adventure will last. Pepco, our ordeal's sponsor, has been totally noncommittal. "We are assessing the damage and prioritizing" their voicemail announces. A live person is nowhere to be found.

We have been divided into two teams: The Parent Tribe and the Children Tribe. As dawn approached on the third day both our respective camps were in complete disarray. Our house is dark even when it's light outside.