Yep, it's time to answer some reader mail again. But before I do, the Tribune legal department (a fat, hairy guy named Guido) has mandated that I inform you that all of these letters are completely made up.
With that, here we go.
It is February 29. Why is this? Doesn't February only have 28 days? My head hurts. --Vexed in Verdi
Here's how leap years work: Every four years, we add an extra day to the year so the calendar and the Earth's rotation remain somewhat in check.
There is one exception to that rule, however. Every year that is divisible by 100 (i.e. ends in "00"), in order to confuse the hell out of people, is NOT a leap year, even though it is divisible by four.
And, finally, there is an exception to that exception. If a year is divisible by 100 AND is divisible by 400, then it IS a leap year. This means 1600 was a leap year, while 1700, 1800 and 1900 were not.
I am not making any of this up. I couldn't make this up if I tried, at least not without being under the influence of some really heinous controlled substances.
What does all of this mean? Well, folks, it means that this column is a rare event, and you should cherish it and hold it close to your heart (unless you have body odor; I don't want my mug shot near you if that's the case, no offense). Only once every 28 years or so will Feb. 29 fall on a Tuesday, so that means a column like this is rare.
But this column is even more rare if you think of how often Feb. 29 will fall on a Tuesday in a year ending in "00." Since leap years in such years happen only every 400 years, that means a Feb. 29 occurring on Tuesday in a year ending in "00" happens once every 2,800 years--400 times the seven days in a week.
Taking this even further, Feb. 29 occurs on a Tuesday in a millennium year-- ending in "000"--only once every 14,000 years. Seriously. The year 1000 wasn't a leap year, nor will the year 3000 be a leap year, because they aren't divisible by 400. Thus, a millennium leap year happens every 2,000 years; multiply that by seven for each day of the week, and that means this column is a once every 14,000 year event.
Groovy, eh?
Looking at the above answer, I have to ask: Do you have a life? It seems that you have way too much time on your hands. --Cynical in Sun Valley
Yes, I do have a life. After all, you're not one to talk; you took the time to write this letter, didn't you?
Actually, no. These are made-up letters, remember? --Cynical in Sun Valley
Oh, yeah. Damn!
Why is it that many police officers think they have the right to speed when the rest of us don't? I just don't understand. --Stumped in Steamboat
This is a question I do not have an answer to. Three times in the past week, I have had officers in patrol vehicles zoom past me, in excess of the speed limit by 20 or more miles per hour. Their lights weren't on, nor were their sirens.
In fairness to these police officers, it is possible that they were on their way to a call and did not want to turn on their lights in an effort to conserve light bulbs or something. But in one of these cases, an officer sped past me, only to pull into -- no, not a donut shop, but close -- a 7-11. I saw him mosey out of this vehicle, clearly not in a hurry, and wander inside. He wasn't one his way to a call, unless there was a Slurpee inside needing assistance.
I bring this up because I believe that police officers, in many cases, don't get the respect they deserve; they have a hard, often dangerous job. But when officers behave like this, speeding around like a bunch of empowered 4-year-olds in go-carts, it sucks. It sends the message: Why should you respect the law, or me as an upholder of the law, when I clearly don't respect the law?
So, to all you speeding officers out there, I say: Slow down. Driving that fast is dangerous, stupid, and unnecessary -- not to mention illegal. At least, that's what you'd tell me if you caught me driving like that.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who promises not to have that much math in a column for another 14,000 years. His column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.