Saturday night and I just can't watch any more news
or read any more blogs. It doesn't seem right to watch "Trading Spaces"
when the end of the world is at hand, but I just had to.
Orcinus has been compiling a list
of death threats, accusations of treason, etc., leveled at people who dare
express anti-war opinions. Then I heard a Canadian television report
about how some Canadians crossing into the border into Bellingham, in Washington
State, were getting notes on their car that
read:
"We in America are disappointed in Canadians and your government. You
are not welcome in America. Go back where you belong and stay there." Upset
at the news that, as Mary J Blige might say, someone's hatin' on the Canadians,
I turn to the differently bizarre world of Hildy Santo Tomas.
...But Hildy disappoints this weekend, designing a room that is tasteful,
elegant, and doesn't offend my finely-tuned sense of right and wrong. She
didn't even include a self-portrait. How am I supposed to channel my
despair appropriately? Last night they didn't even have the always-glistening-with-sweat-
Doug, bullying homeowners in his inimitable tweaked-out Chelsea Boy manner.
And why
is he always sweaty anyway? (Well, I think I know why:
someone should monitor his trips to the bathroom. Maybe they could
put a camera in there?) But, alas, my evening plans of speculating
viciously about minor celebrities' drug problems are not meant to be. They
have on, instead, Flaming Frank, a man so femmy he makes Steven Cojaguru
look butch. I just can't hear Frank talk about his wife again. It's
just too disturbing. So we go out to find nourishment instead.
First stop,
Two-Hearted
Ale Beer. Highly recommended for those fearing the world's end.
Could something so delicious exist if the end were near?
Next two stops, Mexican. I drop the partner off at the authentic Mexican
place and I'm on my way to the Taco Bell drive-thru for two steak quesadillas.
I love authenticity, but I'm mad at that place because the last time
I was in there, the owner refused to respond to me in Spanish. My Puerto
Rican-speak apparently is not good enough for her. My ethnic sensibilities
offended, I decided to punish them by not buying their totally delicious
burritos for two weeks. So two steak quesadillas it is. When
the partner gets back in the car he informs me the Puerto Rican-hater wasn't
there. Sneaky woman.
In the car we listen to "The Eminem Show," track
number
5, where his slim shadiness gives a creepily prescient scenario, written
well before the Colonization, er, Liberation of Iraq had begun, about how
this country could become an authoritarian nightmare with kids going off
to war. Before being driven to blog by the approaching end of the world,
I used to imagine my first blog would be titled "Why this Faggot Listens
to Eminem." Alas, I haven't the energy. The Four Horses Approach.
Perhaps this week will provide better avenues for escape from the World the
Neocons Created. There is hope; Tuesday evenings BBCAmerica has new
episodes of "Changing Rooms", the much, much better show that "Trading Spaces"
is modeled after. Last summer we watched every episode available twice
and dreamt of emigrating to this new, cool Brittannia (then came fall and
Tony Blair's nostalgia for Benevolent British empire fucked it all up again).
Tuesday, as well, is
American
Idol. The show had looked to be a promising escape during these
days and nights of hate and war. Now they're singing jingo jingles every
week. And a couple weeks ago Simon Cowell said something nasty about
Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks. Do we really need another Brit
teaching Americans how to be patriotic? I though Andrew Sullivan had
that job. (Sorry, I just can't provide a link to his site, I just can't.
Call me anti-American.) For the record, on AI I'm routing for
the two Kimberlys. Or Ruben. Anyone but Clay because gives me
the willies (Although I do feel sorry for him now that Simon has turned on
him. My theory on this: The Brit's's enthusiasm has waned as Clay has gotten
more mike time to speak and sound, well, like he and Frank the Designer should
have a chat.)
Enough Blogprocrastination. Must get back to planning my classes, writing
(mustn't perish and reach the Day of Reckoning without having published),
planning my
"teach-in"
speech for Wednesday. And maybe later I'll write some noncrazy blogs,
but I make no promises.
Oh, and to the person putting fliers on Canadians' windshields in Washington
State, would you please stop your hatin? Judgment Day is near.
