Monday, August 7, 2000

 

2:45 a.m. Today's photo shows one of the walls inside our local Post Office, with a mysterious door that leads to those places ordinary people never see. Perhaps it's the rubber-band storage area. But overarching the closed door is the pastel portrait of the creator of this stateside Venice, a man named Abbot Kinney.

Just another crazy politician, up on the Post Office wall, keeping company with the Most Wanted black and whites. A man and his dream, drawn out there, behind his head. What could possibly possess a man to try to recreate a swampy, watery city of canals in the desert?

What was he thinking? Drinking? Smoking?

To pick Joseph Lieberman as a running mate?

And I'd gotten so comfy with the Democrats in power -- it just seemed so nice. Nothing more than the feeling when your home team wins the World Series ... nothing really to do with policy and taxes and issues. Just a little bit of loyalty for our guys, our side, our colors. And now this.

It's clear that Al Gore has decided that he doesn't have a chance to win. And why? Why would he pick a man with the worst, the absolute worst speaking voice in the whole wide world? Does he owe Al Frankin some kind of bet? Is he that desperate to appear charismatic?

I guess I'd better get used to the self-satisfied smugness of the younger Bush and the snarky smirk of Dick Cheney, because their wives are going to be the ones wearing woolly hats and waving to the crowd in just a few months. Too bad.

It's so sad. He couldda beena contenda.

I mean, what do I know of popular opinion? I would never have voted poor Jordan off the island; I didn't even know that the actress playing God at the end of Dogma was a famous singer. She just looked like an interesting character to me. I never thought rap would last or udon would catch on.

And I shouldn't have wasted an entire day and night trying to make those un-trendy, backward, retro, dumb animations either. All I did was prove that there's a strange time-warp and I'm stuck in it. In fact, the only other constructive thing I did today was to unscrew the remote control and peer inside it. Maybe it's the batteries. Maybe it's the moon.

Too many crazy vibes pinging through the atmosphere these days. Maybe it's time to think more seriously about those alternative political parties. And an aluminum foil triangle to wear on my head.