Johnny Ramone is dead, yet Michael Bolton and Kenny G continue to release albums.
Feh.
So far, the Santa Monica Chamber of Commerce is winning the Political Junk Mail race. The current score:
SMCoC: 4. They also win the He Who Casts The First Stone Award for sending us their first glossy flyer back in May.
The Team for Change (aka The Slate With The Guy Whose Tie Is Always Loosened): 1. They were a close second for the Whining Bitches Award, and lost to the SMCoC due to the winner’s volume of junk mail.
Bobby Shriver: 1. It was quite a nice letter, though I’m afraid he’s going to be known as The Hedge Guy unless he starts pouring on the charm (ie sending out more goddamn letters like the one we got today).
The People Who Really Don’t Like Michael Feinstein: 1. They win the Environmentally Friendly Junk Mail Award, because they sent their gripes via email.
With only Too Many Days to go until the election, I know you’re all wetting your pants to see who’s going to come in first in the Junk Mail Derby. Now that one of the members of the Team for Change has the endorsement of the SMCoC, I think it’s going to be a close race to see who pisses me off the most with their mailers. And, Jebus, we haven’t even started with the propositions.
The DNC wins on the national level, and I blame Howard Dean for that. No, not because he sold my name to the DNC (though, hey, you never know), but because I was so amped about his candidacy that I actually gave the bastards money. Hey, guys, can I at least get a handjob for that cash?
UPDATE: Now that I’ve learned that Bobby Shriver has also gotten the SMCoC’s endorsement, I think this will change the amount of mail we’re about to get. I think the SMCoC will win for sheer volume, but I think Shriver will come in a close second. I also now realize that when people refer to him, more will use the word “Kennedy” than “hedge.”
The Team With Loosened Tie Guy, I’m sure, will still be in a tight race with the SMCoC for being the most annoying political entity in the city this campaign cycle.
So, I joined a writer’s group a few weeks ago, and it’s reminded me of one thing: there are many, many, many people who are better writers than I am, and I need to pracitce like hell if I ever want to leave the glamorous world of consulting behind for the tawdy, grueling and quite unglamorous world of professional writing.
One gets better by a) writing a hell of a lot and honing one’s style and b) reading a hell of a lot and learning who’s got the best stuff to ape. Case in point: John Scalzi, whose posts are more cogent and hard-hitting because he’s a) a hell of a good writer and b) does not give a stony rat’s ass what other people think of him. I struggle with both of these all the damn time. One of these days, I hope I can crank out something like Bush Voters v. Voight-Kampff, but I think I have a long way to go.
I’ve been working on a story and listening and re-listening to the Who’s Quadrophenia while I write, and something just leapt out at me.
My favorite track is the closer, “Love Reign O’er Me.” It’s a powerful song, and it’s a cute play on words, since the singer’s supposed to be down at the seaside and coming to grips with his life while a rainstorm beats down on him. Reign o’er me. I get it.
And then I got to thinking about the RNC and all those “Let Freedom Reign” signs that popped up during the President’ s speech, and it hit me, just like it did back in July when he scribbled the same words on that “Hey, the CPA’s handed the wheel to the Iraqis” memo. “Let freedom reign”? Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?
I mean, freedom means someone isn’t coming down on your ass, ruling over your life and telling you what to do. Reign means rule, as in the reign of King Edward the Testicleless was marked by a sharp increase in the number of wandering minstrels, which eventually let to the kingdom’s downfall. “Let freedom rule”? Huh?
Yes, I’m sure President Bush meant “Let freedom ring” back in July, and it’s too late to change the memo, but, dude, couldn’t the sign people at the RNC have changed it for the convention? Or would that have been a little too Memory Holeish?
(And, no, Anne and I aren’t expecting. We just got married, and we’d like to enjoy these few moments of bliss before the storm of diapers, skinned knees and college tuition. File this away for later, when the kids start Googling their name.
And, on a different track, how scary will that be? Anne’s going to be the only one with moral authority, because they won’t find any dirt on her. Me, I’ve got almost eight years’ worth of spilling my guts all over the web. I’m doomed.)
Dear children-
Your mother and I want you to know that we’re proud of you. We love you with all our hearts. We’re going to do our best to teach you how to be honest, caring people who also don’t take any crap from fools. We’re not going to ask much of you other than that you do your best in everything and that you treat other people with respect and compassion.
However, there is one rule that we will enforce with an iron fist, and it is this: you are forbidden from ever appearing on any video/program/download/whatever-funky-ass-recording-medium-that’s-around-when-you’re-teenagers that has the words “World’s Wildest” or “Gone Wild” in the title.
That is all. Go git ‘em.
Love,
Your parents