vendredi, juillet 29, 2005

The President is Dumb

Guess what? The President is dumb!

(In this place, I would traditionally insert some attempt at comedy, or insight, or some combination of the two. But given the genius--the originality--of the opening line, I see fit to pause, and bask in the white hot light of my discovery.)

This president is so dumb . . .

(Listen as the audience thirstily laps up the cavalcade. "How dumb is he?" you ask, bursting at the seems. The expectation is palpable. Nowhere have you seen such incisive wit. You've heard him flub lines. You saw him holding the book upside down. But no one thought to make a joke out of it! The combination of surprise and thanks turns the masses into mush. I don't even need to make the chimp comparisons, not that it would be redundant--certainly it wouldn't! It would sparkle fresh like the opening zinger, but I need to move on to something with even more show stopping glitter on it.)


(Go ahead, faint. Take a breath. It's OK. I know you didn't see it coming. I don't even need to state the joke. The deft originality of the framework is enough. So many people--certainly the idiots who have met him or spent any time with him--forget that he is, in very fact, an evil rich white guy. At this point you'll forgive a brief pat on my own back. I could have directed my trenchant tongue to some easy target, some rampaged comedic territory so well traveled by others. But no: I took the hard, insightful road. The high road. You know, it isn't easy breaking ground. PS: You're Welcome!)

Bill Clinton was an overweight womanizer!

(Didn't know that either, did you! For eight years of the previous administration you sat back, and, while you couldn't elucidate your thoughts, deep down, your silent self wondered quietly "Why is no one making fun of the President's weight, or his penchant for turning every woman within the reach of his greasy hilbilly fingers into a sexual object?" And then here I come out of nowhere, busting loose with a dirty/fat joke--in the same sentence! I'll wait a moment while you to regain your composure. I don't even have time for my Pakistani-QuickyMart-Owner impression--we'll have to take on the threat of global terrorism later)

If only we could combine the best qualities of the last two presidents. Think of the Evil-Rich-Fat-Womanizing-Dumbass jokes that could be told!

Alas, I would be the only one telling them.

vendredi, juillet 08, 2005

Fawlty Towers

The Supreme Court just put every house in America up for sale.
I was distressed about this. But buns cradled gently in stretchy black corduroy cannot long clench, nor quiver. Soon enough, a little voice whispered: "You do not live on prime, hotel ready property."
If only we could amend the law to stipulate that any hotel built on eminent domain property be run by a Basil Fawlty kind of character, with a documented minimum for wacky antics and subtle class commentary, I would have no problem whatsoever with the Court's decision.
The problem is that there really is only one John Cleese (as John Laroquette so unfortunately proved), and such a wealth of eminently seizable hotel-ready property. I don't think Mr. Cleese is up to running a hotel any more. He is currently enjoying pretty sweet retirement, living off royalties and occasionally posting a blog about how stupid Americans are. He might be induced to invest in the Supreme Court Inn & Resort hotel chain, but if he's not personally running the hotel, then count me out.

I just keep wondering: Was the seized house an eyesore? Seriously, because there are some real dumps behind my house in our otherwise charming little Colfax neighborhood. I'm quite sure that a lovely Bed & Breakfast with a quaint garden fountain would be in the best interests of our town. But then the little voice returns, and reminds me that, sadly, the Supreme Court hotel chain will most like not have my town on their acquisition list.
If we're lucky, this new interpretation of the Constitution might someday result in the seizing of ugly houses that are detrimental to property values.

That's my problem. I want freedom for everyone except the low income white trash shack dwellers and their unsightly TV antennae that sully my view of the canyon.

Maybe if Ben Franklin had left Jefferson's original "Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of PROPERTY" line alone, we wouldn't be having to fret about this.