Brain Drain

Unreal learns how to keep young, bright St. Louisans in town — and alive. Plus: Blog o' the Week, advice for the apocalypse and a chat with Bill the Thrill.

Instead, Federer says, he focused on his new book, The Faith of FDR, which explores Roosevelt's war on (Nazi) terror. The tome was published on Federer's Amerisearch imprint, which also sells his America's God and Country: Encyclopedia of Quotations. Federer says the latter, published in 2000, has sold a half-million copies (at $19.99 per).

He's also a talk-radio regular and makes public appearances for right-wing causes around the nation. He spoke to high school students all over Illinois in September on "Constitution Day" and emceed a "National Prayer Day" event at Mount Rushmore in May. He says his name is well-known on the national conservative circuit, thanks to his books and appearances on shows like The O'Reilly Factor back when he ran for office.

Other than that, he's chillin'. "When we were watching the Talent-McCaskill race on TV," he says, "my wife was commenting on how nice it was to see all the negative ads on TV that weren't directed at us."

Dan Zettwoch

Local Blog O' the Week

"The FYC"
Author: Alex Fritz
About the blogger: Alex is a 26-year-old St. Louisan who, according to his Blogger user profile, enjoys mountain biking, baseball and mail fraud. He operates two other blogs, "The Book of Fitz" ( and "Todays Fake Birthdays" (

Recent Highlight (November 30): While heading northbound up Mexico's route 307 yesterday morning, traversing the Yucatan peninsula in the pouring rain (route 307 is easily the weirdest road I have traveled before, Highway of Death aside, of course. Throw in an early morning rainstorm and it is all the more surreal, tipped over vans full of vases scattered along the road withstanding), I was most certain that The Lady Friend and I were concluding a most successful romantic holiday in that drunken slice of real estate known as Quintana Roo, Mexico.

Sure, the whole thing started out with me being a rather hung-over crybaby last Wednesday morning [I threw up on three non-consecutive occasions during my travels last week — including once on the conveyer belt at Lambert International (I apologize if anyone saw that. Gross.)] which is completely and totally to be blamed on the tasty pints I enjoyed at the ever comfortable cold weather bar that is Seamus McDaniel's on last Tuesday (The Tuesday before Thanksgiving is the new Wednesday before Thanksgiving — I'm not sure if you knew that or not). And sure, both The Lady Friend and I were leaving our neighbor to the south with tremendous head colds, but by God Shit, it was a successful trip.

We checked into Cancun's airport without a hitch and were ready to get back home, happy as could be. However, thirty minutes after takeoff, I was hoping for the plane to crash. Something quick and painless would be nice, but I wouldn't mind something drawn out and excruciating either, as long as the end result was the same: Sweet, sweet death. Why, you ask? Because of the in-flight movie: "My Super Ex Girlfriend."

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