Tomorrow or Sunday, we'll be seeing the photo of the first baby born in the new year. And as I do every year, I'll be thinking, "Dumb! Don't show me the first baby of the new year -- show me the last baby born in the old year."

I say this in my role as a tax lawyer. When a baby is born on Dec. 31, his or her parents get the same dependent tax deduction and child tax credit as if the baby had been born on the preceding Jan. 1. So the parents get a whole year's income tax benefit, even if they had to care for the baby for only a few seconds at the end of the calendar year. Parents of kids born at 12:01 a.m. on Jan. 1 have to provide a whole year's care for the same tax benefit in the year of the child's birth.

This is why you see so many very pregnant women splitting cords of wood on New Year's Eve. Their tax-savvy spouses are pushing them to get that tax deduction out into the world before midnight.

My soft spot for the last baby born in the year carries over into some other realms as well. I gave a lecture on the evening of Dec. 30, 1999 to a group of recent law school graduates who were preparing for the bar exam. It was a four-hour lecture, because tax is a complicated subject. No other West Coast state tests for tax knowledge on the bar exam, and thus it was a pretty safe bet that I had given the last tax lecture of the millennium on the entire planet, and the last bar review lecture of the millennium in the Lower 48.

Then there was the year that my Hood-to-Coast Relay team was part of the very last group to start the race at Timberline Lodge. The race organizers seed the fast teams toward the end, and except for me (who was there to provide comic relief in the van), the team I was on was darn fast. And so they started us in the last group.

As the weakest runner on the team, I was given the easiest series of race segments, runner no. 2. The first leg this runner handles is all downhill, from Government Camp to about five miles west. (The first leg -- Timberline to Govvie -- is not the place for a weak runner, because it's actually too steep a slope. You can fly down it with the huge assist from gravity, but injury is a real hazard because you're basically stopping yourself the whole way.)

As I stood in the dark with the other runners at the hand-off point in Government Camp at the start of our first segment, the runners from the first leg came churning in from their descent. The other teams had stacked some very speedy rabbits in my assigned leg, and as they took their teams' batons, the other folks with whom I had been standing around started absolutely flying downhill. I plodded along at my sickly, careful pace, while every single other runner passed me.

And that's when it hit me: Of all the thousands of runners in the Hood-to-Coast, I was the very last one. And as I couldn't pass anyone, I stayed in last place for the whole segment.

Tonight I likely racked up another "last" distinction, as I took a long (for me) run down to the east side of the Morrison Bridge along the Katz Esplanade. I wanted to be sure to break 200 miles run for the year 2004, and I was a couple of miles short with only a few hours left. So off I went. The rain was hard, the wind was brisk, the black water was choppy, and the temperature hovered around 40. There was literally not another soul on the esplanade between the Steel Bridge (where a couple of homeless guys were roaming around) and the Morrison (under which two more were hunkered down in their sleeping bags).

I love that run when I have it all to myself. And given how deserted it was, I suspect I may have been the last jogger of 2004 on that path. I'd like to think I was, anyway.

Here's to the last baby born in 2004. And a happy New Year for the rest of us.

For some prominent folks, the arrival of the new year won't be a happy time.

In case you haven't seen it, you owe it to yourself to take a look at the Salem Statesman-Journal's exposé of influence-peddling by disgraced former Gov. Neil Goldschmidt, and his domination of the agenda of current Gov. Ted Kulongoski. Among the findings in the newspaper's investigation:

- Kulongoski met with Goldschmidt and [his partner Tom] Imeson two dozen times in various venues and combinations during the 16-month period [from Kulongoski's January 2003 inauguration to May 2004, when Goldschmidt withdrew from public life]. That's more than he met with anyone else [including the Secretary of State or the Attorney General] except top legislative leaders and his staff.

- After Imeson directed Kulongoski's transition team -- a volunteer group that helped choose personnel and frame policies for the new governor -- he continued submitting names and feedback about potential Kulongoski staff members and executive appointments. With input from Goldschmidt, Imeson recruited or gave feedback about candidates for the Public Employees Retirement Board, State Board of Higher Education, Oregon Health and Science University Board, Board of Forestry, Port of Portland Commission, Northwest Power and Conservation Council and Public Utility Commission.

- Imeson doggedly pursued efforts to get client HealthWatch Technologies a state contract to track Medicaid overpayments. State managers were ordered to alter the selection process because of his pressure.

- Goldschmidt's firm set up two meetings among the governor, his staff and Bechtel and Parsons Brinckerhoff, two construction companies angling to build a major Columbia River bridge connecting Portland and Vancouver.

- Goldschmidt and Imeson lobbied Kulongoski on behalf of Weyerhaeuser after a federal jury found that the timber giant was monopolizing the alder log industry. After the consultants prepared talking points and arranged meetings with Weyerhaeuser officials, the governor voted the company's way in a State Land Board proceeding.

As the Portland Tribune pointed out in reporting on the Salem paper's series, the latter also revealed:

After Texas Pacific recruited Goldschmidt to head up its effort to buy PGE, [Imeson] arranged a dinner between Kulongoski and the firm's partners the night the deal was publicly announced.

Goldschmidt got the apparent boot from his back-room throne after his sex with a 14-year-old came to light. But the influence-mongering is just as immoral -- as if the whole state were his 14-year-old girl, ripe for the taking. And Ted was the state's caretaker while a lot of it was going on.

For a while there was some talk about the U.S. attorney, Karin Immergut, taking a look at some aspects of this. You wonder where she's looking.

It's time to do my duty once again as a shill for Marqui, the outfit that's paying bloggers (including me) to write about their communications management software (CMS).

Earlier this week, I delivered my bio to Marqui for posting on its paid blogger roster page. So far it hasn't shown up there, but here's what it said:

Jack Bogdanski is a law professor in Portland, Oregon, who has been blogging since July 2002. He writes about most aspects of his life on his general-interest site. He is not a techie or a marketer, doesn't generally do product reviews, and is being kept on the Marqui paid-blogger roster as part of some sort of affirmative action program or tax writeoff.

Anyway, Marqui feeds its shills stories every week with the not-so-subtle suggestion (but not the requirement) that we write about the same topics. This week they sent along a "whitepaper" on something called SEO. Typical geeks, with the acronyms. This one stands for "search engine optimization" -- in other words, how to make your site appear often, and high up, when internet surfers run word searches on Google and other search engines.

I've always gotten a kick out of this blog's placement on Google. When I check through the hit counts every now and then, I always poke around to see what readers were searching for when they landed here. I come in high up in the returns for all sorts of interesting queries, some of them downright comical. Unfortunately, the word "bog" is slang for toilet in some part of the world -- Australia, perhaps -- and so there are some fair doses of potty humor and downright perversion in the mix. "Cr*p in a bog" -- I'm No. 1 for that one on Google. But others are more flattering -- for example, appropriate to the date of this post, I'm proud to be No. 4 currently for "six geese a laying."

Over the years, I've also deliberately tried to move my way up in the rankings by using phrases that fake out the search engines. For example, I'm No. 1 for "Joey Harrington nude," and No. 6 for "Annika Sorenstam nude." And I'm part of a cabal that has made the true meaning of "wretched civic failure" plain to all the world.

It's no surprise, then, that money-making concerns deliberately set up their pages to reel in the search engine fish. Marqui's paper explains to someone thinking about this for the first time how it can best be done. Of course, Marqui has a solution to all one's search engine-manipulating needs: hire Marqui. You were expecting them not to say that?

If you'd like to see the whitepaper, you can go here, but be ready to give a name and e-mail address.

(Note: I'll be mentioning Marqui at least once a week on this blog, at least through mid-March. As noted here, they're paying me to do it. My other Marqui post is here. You no like Marqui posts? You no read.)

People send me crazy stuff in the e-mail. Here is a link to a home video to accompany (I'm told) a song by Romanian pop sensation Ozone.

There are three problems with this video:

1. It takes a long time to load.

2. The server that it's on is likely going to pull it because it's eating up so much bandwidth.

3. If you watch it, you may not sleep too well for a while.

(From waxy.org.)

...has gone off to the big Catskills Resort in the Sky.

Jerry Orbach was one of our favorite actors. He had the classic face and voice of the Big Apple. So long, pal.

The law school at which I teach is starting off the new year by throwing a major confab next Wednesday, Jan. 5, on Ballot Measure 37. This is the now-enacted law that requires land use regulators in Oregon to pay property owners money when new regulations (or new enforcement of old regulations) decrease the values of the owners' property. (It's the end of Oregon as we know it -- but don't get me started on that today.)

The "Measure 37 Summit," as it's being called, will be an all-day affair at the Oregon Convention Center (come and hear the wind whistle through Vera's White Elephant), with a live webcast available as well. Early registration ends tomorrow, Dec. 29. For more information, go here.

I don't know how I've been missing The Littlest Blog. The author's had her own blog going for nearly a year, and she writes well.

Hysterically witty law student blogger Jeremy Blachman was profiled in The New York Times yesterday.

Last year I wrote that my former co-worker, Greg Jenner, was working as one of the Bush Administration's top tax policy wonks. This past summer, he was nominated to be the Numero Uno tax policy official for the Bushies, and he was serving in that capacity on an "acting" basis. But Jenner, a former Portlander, was never confirmed for the permanent position by the Senate, and now he's abruptly resigned to return to private practice.

Hope everything's o.k. with Greg. Given my antipathy toward the Bush tax "ideas," I'm glad he's no longer involved.

(Another excellent tax news tip from TaxProf Blog.)

I'm starting to worry a little about John Dunshee, a.k.a. Just Some Poor Schmuck. Last week he railed about the "bum" who, in John's view, got what he deserved when he was shot to death while panhandling in downtown Portland. O.k.... assuming we can get on his wavelength about that... today he's on the Portland City Council's case for their plan to restrict sales of fortified wine and 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor in the St. Johns neighborhood.

John, let me put it to you in words you might use yourself: They're trying to run the drunken bums out of that neighborhood.

Does that help?

Here's a new Portland photo site.

Linda has got a great Christmas story.

The Ghost of Christmas Present is here, and he's in great shape. Big, round, fat, sassy, funny. After about the eighth glass of wine last night, we also spent a little time with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

But mostly these days I'm communing with Christmas Past. As my bride and I share the holidays with our children, I see how the impressions of the season are made. And I think back fondly on the folks who made those impressions on me -- my grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and family friends. They made do with so much less than we have today, and in many ways they managed to give us more.

Only a few of them are still on the planet, but tonight we'll drink a toast to all of them, here and gone. Their spirits are still very much with us, and for that we are most grateful.

There were in the country shepherds, who stayed out in the field watching over their flocks all night. And the Angel of the Lord came down to them, and a bright light shone all around them, and they were afraid. But the Angel said to them, "Fear not, for I bring you good news that shall give joy to all people. There is born for you this day, in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this is the way you shall know him: You shall find him wrapped in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger."

When the Angel had said this, suddenly there were many other angels with him, who praised God, saying, "Glory be to God on high, and on Earth peace, good will toward men."

After the angels had gone from them up into heaven, the shepherds said, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see these things the Angel has told us about." And they went quickly and found Mary and Joseph and the Babe lying in a manger. And they saw the child, and afterward went out and told others what the Angel had said to them. Everyone they told wondered at what they said. Then the shepherds returned to their flocks again, praising God for what they had seen and heard.

If you haven't seen this, set aside a few minutes and go over to check it out while it's still up: A frame-by-frame recreation of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video.

The cast?

All Lego figures. (Via UtterlyBoring.com.)

More details are available today on the fatal shooting outside the downtown Meier & Frank store yesterday morning. It turns out that both the shooter and the victim were at least borderline mentally ill and homeless.

The Oregonian's spin, of course, is that everything's o.k., downtown is still wonderful, this could have happened anywhere, it's safer than L.A., bad timing with the holidays and all, but let's go back to our grand plans of streetcars, high-end hotels, aerial trams, and tax-free condo towers.

Swept under the newspaper's enormous rug is the fact that Portland has far too little by way of meaningful treatment for the thousands of mentally ill folks who fill our jails and walk our streets frightening people. Ex-Police Chief Mark Kroeker hit the nail right on the head some time back when he remarked that we have "open air mental health treatment" in this city.

That and an aerial tram. The Great Legacy.

It's still my favorite.

[An office adjoining a workshop at the North Pole. An elderly gent in a red union suit is behind the desk. He has a pencil behind one ear and is holding a red land phone to the other. His back is turned to the computer screen.]

SC: Heck no, I'm not thinking about retiring. No way! I'm as healthy as a horse.... Actually, it's getting easier, because the toys are so much lighter. In the old days, the stuff weighed a ton. The old Radio Flyer wagons would give you a hernia. And some kid who deserved a record player would break your back. Nowadays, we do most of the stuff in plastic, and geez, a JuiceBox hardly weighs a pound or so... No, I never get tired of it. [Enter Elf.] It gets better every ye -- hey, Safire, my computer guy just walked in. I've got to go. I'll catch up with you after the New Year.... Give my love to that babe Maureen Dowd, will ya?... Atta boy.... Merry Christmas to you, too. [Hangs up.]

Fascist old coot. Hey there, Bruce, did you get my message?

Elf: I got here as soon as it came across my Blackberry.

SC [turning to computer screen]: Well, it's Excel again. I had both the "Naughty" and "Nice" sheets open, and I was having trouble. The Ferguson kids hid their grandfather's toupee the other night, and I was trying to move them all from one sheet to the other all at once. I tried to click and drag, but that just screwed everything up.

Elf: O.k., let's do this together. Highlight the rows with the Ferguson kids in them.... Good. Now right-click. No, right-click there. Click on "Cut." Now go over to the "Naughty" sheet -- no, wait! You don't want to put your cursor there. That will erase the row you're on. Go down to the bottom of the sheet. Wow, that's a long list for "Naughty."

SC: A lot of Republicans on there.

Elf: You might want to think about using Paradox for this next year. O.k., there. Now paste it.

SC: Then can I hit the A-to-Z to [phone rings] -- wait, I've got to take this.... Hello? Oh hi, Heather.... About the homecoming on Saturday afternoon. Yeah. Two whole chickens, they've got to be hot. Irish soda bread, that's right. The real stuff.... A case of Heineken, four cold bottles of Moet.... Yes. And make sure the hot tub is running at 105.... Fine.... Hey, is Shirley there? I want to make sure she's got the travel all set up.... Well, have her call me when she gets back.... Great, see you then. [Hangs up.]

All right, so where were we? O.k., then I hit the button A-to-Z and it reshuffles it? There. What a pain. All right, thank you, your geekiness.

Elf: Santa, while I'm up here, we need to talk seriously about the situation down in I.T.

SC: Now? Twenty-four hours before Christmas? For cryin' out loud, Bruce, we've jacked up your budget higher than anybody else's around here. At some point, we've got to draw the line on the cash flow out.

Elf: I know, sir, but I don't think we're getting enough bang for our buck. Whenever we work on one part of the system, some other part falls out of date. Every time something happens, it seems like we have to get the same information out 10 different times and 10 different ways. Your blog is getting stale, the subscriber list is out of date, we've got to file reports with all the charity regulators -- we can't do everything at once with the setup we've got now.

SC: So what should we do, then? I can't handle this kind of decision. It's what I pay you for --

Elf: I've been looking into subscribing to some software -- [Phone rings.]

SC: Hold on, this could be Shirley.... Hello? Shirley? Have you got itinerary set yet?.... No, it's got to be Max's place on Flamenco Beach.... Ten nights should do it.... I don't care what it costs. Tell him I want the upstairs unit.... Just me and Mrs. Claus.... Great. And tell them to keep the lights on so that we can find that confounded airstrip. That hairpin turn right at the end is a doozie.... Great. Thanks a lot, Shirley. Merry Christmas to you, too. [Hangs up.]

They don't make them like that any more, my friend.

Elf: There's been a marketing guy hanging around from an outfit called Marqui. They say they have communications management software that could help us.

SC: Wait. Break it to me gently -- what are they going to charge?

Elf: They say maybe five grand to start, then maybe a grand a month.

SC: Huh. And I suppose they're paying you to make this pitch to me?

Elf: Actually, yes, but I can still be objective. Besides, we've spent more and gotten less over the years.

SC: Tell you what. Let's meet with these Marqui guys. But not until I'm back from Culebra. In fact, let's make it after the Super Bowl. Can you hold it together with gum and scotch tape 'til then?

Elf: Sure.

SC: Great. Now if you'll excuse me, son, I've got to get ready for tomorrow night. It's going to be one of the craziest routes yet. Thank goodness for Mapquest.

The outgoing mayor of Portland suffered a dislocated shoulder yesterday from patting herself on the back so vigorously over the long-overdue plan to do something with the downtown Meier & Frank department store. Right in keeping with the ongoing reality disconnect at City Hall, the plan is to turn the upper floors of the store into a chi-chi hotel.

Meanwhile, outside the store, we continue to have festive holiday scenes like this. All part of The Legacy.

Yesterday afternoon and evening (say, from 5 to 7) I heard some of the most interesting Christmas music ever, on the radio at 1450 AM here in Portland. Does anybody know who was DJ'ing that? As best I can tell looking around this morning, it was either KBPS (public radio) or KPSU (Portland State).

Whoever it was, it was great.

Yesterday I braved the Christmas shopper traffic and got the gift that everybody wants this year.

Introducing a 4-year-old to "Nuttin' for Christmas" and "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer."

Nothing like a little silliness to take the edge off the holiday rush.

The interesting photos keep a-pourin' in today. Check out this Christmas card from the Yamhill County Interagency Narcotics Team:

Our photo of Mr. and Mrs. Lars Larson prompted a lot of commentary here yesterday. Blogger Chris Snethen sends along another photo, which he says is of Mrs. Larson at a Republican victory party last election night: