Honestly, I’m uptight about a lot of things; however, usually I don’t meddle into people’s personal lives. For instance, if you want to smoke pot in your apartment room, play with Barbie Dolls, listen to Creed, play Mario 64 (like my wife), support the Obama-Biden ticket (whose ticket of “Change” is flimsier than the Razorbacks’ defense), or read Patricia Cornwell/David Baldacci/Sandra Brown, or do any other useless things like that, be my guest (I’d say more up-to-date/hip things, but I don’t have cable, so I’m out of the cultural loop). Hey, I’ve watched the first three seasons of Smallville—only two discs away from finishing the fourth season (actually, since I started writing this, we’ve watched the rest of Season 4; if anyone would like to loan Season 5 just send it to OBU Box 3047, thanks)—during my short stay in Arkadelphia; I understand how desperate a person can get for entertainment in Clark County. But…BUT, there are certain things that my fellow OBU apartment residents can ...