I thought "catfishing" was a Friday night feast in Mississippi. Until the absolutely weird news story about Notre Dame's All-American football star, reportedly falling in love with a girl who wasn't there.

To be sure, Manti Te'o's moving story of the death of the woman he loved on the eve of a critical late-season game is raising tons of questions. He claims that she turned out to be only an Internet invention. And that's why "catfishing" is suddenly in the news.

I thought "catfishing" was a Friday night feast in Mississippi. Until the absolutely weird news story about Notre Dame's All-American football star, reportedly falling in love with a girl who wasn't there.

To be sure, Manti Te'o's moving story of the death of the woman he loved on the eve of a critical late-season game is raising tons of questions. He claims that she turned out to be only an Internet invention. And that's why "catfishing" is suddenly in the news.

Spiders build webs that a lot of bugs get stuck in. But because they know where the sticky spots are, spiders don't get trapped in the web they weave.

Humans do.

I saw it when I watched Oprah's interview with Lance Armstrong. "One big lie" - that's how he described what's happened in his record-breaking sports career. It was all built on brilliantly concealed "doping" and a cascading series of cover-up lies. Lots of folks got caught in the web - from bicycle racing officials to teammates to a world of admirers.

I was a young teenager when I faced my first issue with gun control. My dad took me out hunting pheasants. I was a rookie with that 12-gauge shotgun. The first time a pheasant roared up out of those cornstalks, it scared me so much, I had no gun control. Couldn't fire a shot.

But the so much deadly violence and so many heart-wrenching deaths of innocent victims have catapulted gun control issues to center stage again. And this isn't a forum for debating those complex questions - there are other places for that.

At our house, we call it clean juice. I think the official name is "hand sanitizer." Whatever it's called, I'm using it big-time. Flu germs!

Our local hospital is overwhelmed. The next closest hospital is overwhelmed, too. By people from our town.

And this especially nasty flu invasion is all over the country. In one major city, some hospitals have issued "bypass" warnings - bypass bringing any patients here unless it's life-or-death. In another area, the hospital set up triage tents in the parking lot because their ER is so overrun with flu victims.

There's a reason so many of us grandparents are overcoming their technophobia and venturing into cyberspace. We get to see pictures of our grandkids as soon as they're taken!

Like the hilarious photo our son sent recently. A picture of our one-year-old grandson sitting on the kitchen floor, fork in hand. With a lemon-meringue pie splatted on the floor next to him. He's looking at the camera with an expression somewhere between "uh-oh" and "what's the problem?"

I love all the "joy to the world." All the Christmas electricity in the air.

But just down from the manger is a flag at half-staff. For 26 Connecticut funerals...for all those little children gunned down so brutally just eleven days before Christmas. There are clouds over the Christmas sun this year. A nagging sadness, challenging the joy.

If people are right about the Mayan prophecy, there's not much point in my writing this blog. December 21, the day the world's been talking about as the predicted "end of the world," is just a few hours away as I write. And that wouldn't leave much time for folks to read this.

Happily, I just heard on the news that folks in Australia are still here - and it's been "doomsday" for several hours now. So I'll keep writing.

As I write this, my children are picking up their children from school. And holding them very close. Because some parents of little schoolchildren in Connecticut will not be able to do that tonight. Or ever again.

I'm feeling what millions are feeling right now - all of us who have a child we love and can't imagine losing. It's just a deep heaviness in my spirit. Suddenly obscuring the "sunshine" of the Christmas season.

I just dropped off a Christmas poinsettia at a friend's house - she's getting home from the hospital today. Her husband died of cancer last week while she was laid up with back surgery. For her, I guess the words "Merry Christmas" will sound kind of hollow.

Of course, she's not alone this Christmas. In many families each Christmas, there's someone missing around the table. In just the past few weeks, my wife and I have had ten friends die. There are clouds over Christmas this year. For us. And especially for the families of those who are gone.