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I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little weary of all those TV commercials in which Chad, the all-American boy, humiliates those nerds who represent competitors of Alltel, Chad's favorite wireless telephone provider.

Maybe one of those commercials was the inspiration for the Girl Scout Cookie Caper in Dothan, Ala. A Girl Scout leader there is accused of being the cookie monster who stole the funds from her troop's Girl Scout cookie proceeds.

You've seen the commercial in which Chad is beamed down from some kind of high-tech conveyance into the streets right in front of the nerds from the other companies. The superheroes from the cartoons have given him a lift in gratitude for his introducing them to "My Circle," which lets you talk free to a specified number of your friends.

No sooner has Chad delivered his spiel for Alltel than one of the superheroes flashes across the screen and announces with righteous indignation: "Somebody just stole a little kid's milkshake."

The camera switches to the chubby, curly-haired nerd (the one who smells like sour cream), who is slurping the last of his milkshake.

I'm not sure what message Alltel is trying to deliver. "Choose Alltel and you won't smell like sour cream"? "Subscribe to Alltel and we'll never steal your kid's milkshake"?

For the record, Alltel provides the service for my cell phone, and it does a good job. I've never had my milkshake stolen, I never smell of sour cream unless I carelessly drop a glob down my shirt instead of on my baked potato, and it keeps me dependably in touch with the world when I'm on the road (Ma Bell used to perform that function well when she had usable pay phones). On balance, I use Alltel much more often than I use Girl Scout cookies, which smell and taste a sight better than sour cream.

That brings us to the villain of this story: The Dothan Eagle down in southeast Alabama reports that police have arrested a Girl Scout leader and charged her with appropriating to herself $2,026 in Girl Scout cookie money.

That more than matches the perfidy of the nerd who stole the little kid's milkshake. The cookie monster -- whoever that may be -- stole from a whole bunch of little girls. They were planning to use the money for a tea party, to pay for some other events they had planned, and to buy some patches.

I hasten to add that the Girl Scouts were not buying patches to mend worn-out uniforms. Girl Scouts are awarded patches for reaching certain achievements. For example, Geico, the insurance company that promotes talking lizards and insults cave men, sponsors a "road safety patch" for Girl Scouts who complete classes on how to make smart decisions on the road.

The Girl Scouts of Southern Alabama came through with money for the Dothan girls to hold their tea party, but at last report the troop was still awaiting the return of its money for patches and other events.

I have fond memories of Girl Scout cookies, which I have bought from little pixies ringing my doorbell. But my fondest memory goes back to 1995, when I was covering the 30th anniversary re-enactment of the historic voting-rights march from Selma to Montgomery. The marchers of 1965 were attacked by a posse of law enforcement men as they attempted to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge over the Alabama River. Their goal was to walk to Montgomery, 54 miles away, to petition Gov. George Wallace for the right to register and vote.

I was a 58-year-old journalist in less-than-optimum condition, but I was determined to stick with the marchers as long as my stamina held out and my newspaper would tolerate my absence from my desk. I didn't burden myself with a lunch bag, figuring that I could find nourishment at stores and gas stations along the way. I discovered that distances between food stops are a lot longer when you're walking than they are when you're driving.

In prehistoric 1995, cell phones had not come into general use, so I couldn't use My Circle to call Miss Peggy back at our Selma hotel and ask her to drive out with a care package. Fortunately, I was working with Glenn Andrews, my newspaper's photographer, who was covering the march in an automobile. Glenn showed up at a critical moment with a stash of Girl Scout cookies he kept in his car. I remember that they were chocolate and minty, and they gave me the energy I needed to make it to the noon break, where march supporters dispensed curried chicken and curried goat from the back of a van.

It was the best curried goat I ever ate, but the cookies had tasted a lot better.

I'm impressed that the Dothan Girl Scouts accumulated more than two grand from their cookie sales. Maybe they followed the national Girl Scout organization's suggestion that they "use computer savvy" to get in touch with customers.

I hope the cookie monster gets the proper punishment. Alltel commercials suggest an appropriate penalty: Bury the guilty party up to the neck in beach sand and release a horde of crabs with pincers sharpened.

I'll bet Chad likes Girl Scout cookies. He looks like that kind of guy.

Write to Gene Owens at 315 Lakeforest Circle, Anderson SC 29625. E-mail: Swampscum2@aol.com