Saturday, December 30, 2000

 

3:39 p.m. Daytime again, but barely. Although we're not experiencing any kind of foul weather, I'm worrying about all the folks back East as they brace for a Nor'easter.

On the one hand, my son makes a nice living from the snow with his state-of-the-art plow and sand and scoopers. On the other hand, I don't like thinking about any family member getting cold or shivering. Makes me cold just thinking about it.

2:21 a.m. This is, of course, the beginning of the biggest weekend of the year -- the weekend of the millennium, if you want to be mathematical about it. This whole week has seemed slightly odd and off and somewhat whimsical ... so by now, Friday night, there's nothing to do but continue to party hearty.

There are countless marathon sessions on the TV, if you are so inclined. I, myself, am typing this entry quickly because I'm catching the repeat of the C-Span Clinton Comedy Special.

3:15 a.m. See, they're looping this particular special, and I've been watching President Clinton age through the years and refine his comedic routines before the Washington Press Corps. The one I've been waiting for -- the Imus one -- is coming up in a few minutes.

I missed it when it happened, and I missed it the first time it looped this evening ...

Back in a flash ...

4:04 a.m. Well, that was totally interesting and worth staying up for. I've only seen bits and pieces of it, and of course, I've heard the fallout. Like many of the comedians on the unfamiliar dais as the years roll over them, Imus, of course, bombed big time.

He looked insane, he was sweating profusely, and he was wearing two orange clerk finger things. You know -- those rubber finger ends for thumbing through recalcitrant stacks of paper? That sickly dark orange color that looks somewhat transparent?

Those things. Two of them. One was plain and one was nubby. Very odd.

I only wish C-Span wasn't jamming the whole thing along, trying to squeeze eight years into a few hours, because they weren't able to do what they do best, and that's to leave the camera on long after the speech is over. Usually you get to hear the limp small talk that actually tells you more about people than any prepared lecture.

In the case of Imus, after watching the audience becoming increasingly hostile and titter and scowl, it would have been very interesting to see how the members of the press acted toward him as he stepped away from the lectern and re-entered their circle.

But -- he did insult just about everyone in the room: newspeople and politicians alike. He said the sort of things people say in private when they know who they're talking to, and he misjudged the delicate balance of power that was certainly manifest in the room.

Oh well.

Now, to bed. I hope I don't have nightmares.