My darling son called me a week or so ago in the middle of the day. Some of you might recall that Henry sometimes (like about 54 times in a row one semester) has a hard time getting up at the crack of 9 a.m. to get to chemistry class and, as a result, he’s been afforded a priceless learning opportunity to find out, firsthand, what it’s like to go to court for truancy. The judge, in addition to basically telling my son that he’s stupid, informed him he better have a pristine attendance record when we show up for our next date, in June. Hence my son’s call. He wanted to let me know that he’d left school in the middle of the day. His excuse? He found a bullet in the hallway. You know, live ammunition. He turned the bullet in to the school cop and principal and voiced his concerns about safety. Then he split. He wanted to let me know that he was worried his absence would be counted as unexcused, getting him in trouble in court. Call me a screaming liberal and Charlton Heston hater, but, you know, I could really get behind this vacate-the-premises-in-the-face-of-otherwise-maybe-getting-shot-to-death....