Clearing my desk of random thoughts as the abbreviated summer comes to a conclusion "¦

In June, I bought a big sports net — to use as a backstop and throwing target for the kids. The directions said to not leave it out in the rain, however, so I took it down after a few days (and two rainstorms), and promised to put it back up the next time the forecast called for two straight days of sunshine. Haven't used it since.

The best movies of the summer, in no particular order: "Star Trek," "Up," "Inglourious Basterds," "District 9" and "(500) Days of Summer" — which was the season's most heartfelt and funny romantic comedy but only played here for one week.

I'm begging, however, for one of our theaters to go out and find a copy of the critically-acclaimed "The Hurt Locker." Please?

Worst movie of the summer? Hard to say — I think I skipped some of the most terrible — but I recommend you avoid any "G-Force"/"Transformers 2" double features.

Not mentioning any network by name, but if you're a news channel and nearly half of your viewers come out of your broadcast believing that the government is planning death panels to put their grandparents to sleep — which, to repeat, is ridiculous and, coincidentally, untrue — shouldn't you lose your right to call yourself a news channel? I just think if you're leading your viewers into thinking the world is flat, cigarettes are made of chocolate and the Sasquatch is a United States congressman from Wyoming, you should lose your spot in the White House press room.

Newspapers refer to it as the "National Enquirer" rule.

It took a divorce (not mine) before I figured out who Jon and Kate (and their brood of eight) were. Is there a minimum amount of reality television that I should be required to watch? You don't have to be a programming genius, however, to figure out this one: Jon and Paula Abdul, on a tropical island, locked in a hut with eight dysfunctional college dropouts. And a monkey. Pure ratings gold.

I still insist that if potential drivers have to pass a test, potential parents should have to do the same. They can do much more damage.

I spent three or four days in both New York City and Los Angeles this summer. Based on this time, the main differences between the two:

In New York, you can get anywhere with mass transportation. In L.A., you can't get anywhere without a car.

In New York, it rains every day. In L.A., it never rains. In New York, you can see Broadway plays on Broadway. In L.A., they get the plays after Broadway is done with them, with an alternate cast — say, John O'Hurley ("Seinfeld's" J. Peterman) as King Arthur in "Spamalot" instead of Tim Curry.

In New York, I can wear my Red Sox cap and face ridicule, not danger — assuming my visit coincides with an embarrassing four-game sweep by the Yankees over the Sox. In Los Angeles, I can wear my Red Sox cap and no one says anything, except the one guy who thinks I'm Ben Affleck.

I like Facebook, I do. But I still have little interest in talking to the people who I had little interest talking to in high school. Most of the games on Facebook seem to be some kind of version of a pyramid scheme. And almost all of those silly quizzes seem to have been written by 11-year-olds with little more than a smattering of English. I insist that people pass a test before writing a Facebook quiz.

Hopefully, former Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress will learn a lesson or two from his prison term: Never tuck a loaded handgun into the waistband of your sweatpants when you're in New York. If he really needs protection, there's no law against tucking an unmuzzled pit bull into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Every once in a while I realize that there are all sorts of "classic" books that I'm supposed to have read but never have, so I do. Most recently was "To Kill a Mockingbird," which wasn't lengthy, dry or hard to understand — three frequent synonyms for "classic." I can't wait to see what Miss Harper Lee does for a follow-up.

Still haven't read "Moby Dick," "War and Peace" and "Wuthering Heights." And don't intend to.

As a film critic of sorts, I feel more sheepish admitting the classic movies I've never seen. Most embarrassing omission: "2001: A Space Odyssey." It's science fiction, it's a classic, it's Stanley Kubrick, I actually OWN the DVD, but the time has never felt right to watch it. Can't explain it, but I'll watch it this year for sure.

Also should see that "To Kill a Mockingbird" movie.

Best show on television is "Friday Night Lights," which has been renewed for two seasons in a unique time-share arrangement between NBC and DirecTV. I don't care if you don't like football, give it a chance.

Some member of the New York Mets organization must have walked under a ladder, then bumped into a mirror the size of the Dallas Cowboys' video replay board, which fell down and shattered onto a family of black cats. On Friday the 13th.

Bought a GPS device for the car this summer, not because I really needed it, but because they're cool and I wanted to provide the country with an economic boost. Aside from the fact that it thinks I'm driving straight through a swamp whenever I head for the Lake Champlain ferry landing (Recalculating! Recalculating!), the only problem is that I had to switch to the English voice because the American voice seemed to be scolding me whenever I made a wrong turn or stopped to get gas. Does that make me unpatriotic?

May your fall be full of warmth and sunny days.

E-mail Steve Ouellette at: ouellette1918@gmail.com