Monday, June 14, 2004
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN BLYTHE:
Today they unveiled portraits of the hosts of that game show which recently played at the White House Theatre, "2922 Days of Sodom". Of course I declined my invitation to attend. I was tempted by the thought of Grace Slick's inspiration during the Nixon administration: slipping acid into the punch. My variant would have been to see what happened if She Who Must Not Be Named had some garlic spilled on her. I restrained myself because of the nightmare idea that her Governor might appoint that weaseling liberal Giuliani in her place.
The Clenis made me wonder if he'd been sampling some of Grace's party mix himself, with a typically incoherent remark: "Made me feel like I was a pickle stepping into history." Perhaps he was feeling nostalgic, or maybe Sigmund was right, and sometimes a cucumber is just a cucumber. On this return visit, was he careful not to step in that steaming pile of history he left on the rug?
The main reason I stayed away was fear of losing my breakfast at the pious hypocrisy required at such events. Amazingly the Democratic national Stool, Terry McAuliffe, was honest (no doubt by oversight), saying "Everyone loves everyone equally here today." Since the same two negative numbers are indeed equal, this was the literal truth. But I could not have kept a straight face hearing Mrs. "Dances With Words" say "Finally, it is a somewhat daunting experience to have your portrait hung in the White House." I could only recall Bob Munson's line to Crystal Danta in Advise And Consent: "The last time you were impressed was in the third grade."
Our Noble Leader himself was required by protocol to gush with courtesy for his predecessor. The most gag-producing example was when he said "We're glad you're here, 42." [That ominous number convinces me that Douglas Adams must have miscalculated. His Hitchhiker's Guide was quite accurate about the real task of the Commander in Chief. ("The President in particular is very much a figurehead .... His job is not to wield power but to draw attention away from it.") But that author obviously wasn't very good at math. The answer to the Ultimate Question could not possibly have been what he suggested. But I digress.]
This numerological nomenclature reminds me of the line from Get Smart!, when Agent Ninety-nine said "You're worth two 43s, Eighty-six." I'm sure snarky liberals would claim that even Maxwell Smart was twice as smart as our current President. He certainly has misleadered them about his vast intellect. Even that seems to shrink in comparison to the obvious strength of his ability to repress the barfing reflex. Hopefully he kept someone guarding all the keyboards until after His Isness departed once again.
Today they unveiled portraits of the hosts of that game show which recently played at the White House Theatre, "2922 Days of Sodom". Of course I declined my invitation to attend. I was tempted by the thought of Grace Slick's inspiration during the Nixon administration: slipping acid into the punch. My variant would have been to see what happened if She Who Must Not Be Named had some garlic spilled on her. I restrained myself because of the nightmare idea that her Governor might appoint that weaseling liberal Giuliani in her place.
The Clenis made me wonder if he'd been sampling some of Grace's party mix himself, with a typically incoherent remark: "Made me feel like I was a pickle stepping into history." Perhaps he was feeling nostalgic, or maybe Sigmund was right, and sometimes a cucumber is just a cucumber. On this return visit, was he careful not to step in that steaming pile of history he left on the rug?
The main reason I stayed away was fear of losing my breakfast at the pious hypocrisy required at such events. Amazingly the Democratic national Stool, Terry McAuliffe, was honest (no doubt by oversight), saying "Everyone loves everyone equally here today." Since the same two negative numbers are indeed equal, this was the literal truth. But I could not have kept a straight face hearing Mrs. "Dances With Words" say "Finally, it is a somewhat daunting experience to have your portrait hung in the White House." I could only recall Bob Munson's line to Crystal Danta in Advise And Consent: "The last time you were impressed was in the third grade."
Our Noble Leader himself was required by protocol to gush with courtesy for his predecessor. The most gag-producing example was when he said "We're glad you're here, 42." [That ominous number convinces me that Douglas Adams must have miscalculated. His Hitchhiker's Guide was quite accurate about the real task of the Commander in Chief. ("The President in particular is very much a figurehead .... His job is not to wield power but to draw attention away from it.") But that author obviously wasn't very good at math. The answer to the Ultimate Question could not possibly have been what he suggested. But I digress.]
This numerological nomenclature reminds me of the line from Get Smart!, when Agent Ninety-nine said "You're worth two 43s, Eighty-six." I'm sure snarky liberals would claim that even Maxwell Smart was twice as smart as our current President. He certainly has misleadered them about his vast intellect. Even that seems to shrink in comparison to the obvious strength of his ability to repress the barfing reflex. Hopefully he kept someone guarding all the keyboards until after His Isness departed once again.
