:: Friday, March 16, 2001 ::

 

8:27 p.m. It's been a rough week for the stock market. In fact, this was the worst week in the entire history of the stock market. Tonight's lead story on the local news: Puffy was acquitted.

I've been sort of skimming along on the surface tension of the news, watching the bubbles in the foam burst on the rim, rather than delving too deeply. Earlier today I was listening to an economist talk about where the wealth in this country has gone (to the top 1 percent or so of the population) but that was a little too much detail for me, so I switched to pure white noise instead.

Billions are spent on the war on drugs and billions more are made from drugs. New Mexico is considering totally decriminalizing the use of marijuana and it's only one state away. The bankruptcy laws are being changed, and I really should read the fine print on that issue, since it's supposed to impact small businesses, whether they're healthy or not. Maybe later.

Mir is going to crash -- somewhere. The actors and the screenwriters and the airline workers are all planning to strike this summer. Pollution is so American, don't you think? Last night there was a tribute to Lawrence Welk on the local PBS station, and the glitter dress that can stand on its own was back from exile.

The decades seem to be collapsing in on themselves, as if there's some kind of black hole in our imagination. How else to explain a world in which the oil producers are going to cut back on production and the (self-anointed) greatest nation on earth has decided that there's no need to reduce carbon dioxide emissions into the atmosphere. But wait -- here's an environmental news flash -- there is a pressing need to drill for more oil in wildlife preserves.

Drug companies are thinking that maybe there's some profit to be had in hallucinogens. I think they may be right. There is hair dye in the market for children now, and there are sedatives and diet food for nervous, overweight pets, so maybe the time is ripe for some kind of drug that will make this world seem normal.

The drug commercials are already my favorite part of the TV experience. I love how they name new problems all the time -- social anxiety and PDD (formerly PMS) are two of my newest favorites. Don't you love the varied, creative ways they try to race-talk through the side effects at the end of the commercials? Side effects that are always far worse than the original problem? The legislator who came up with that particular ruling should really get an Emmy for some of the best moments on TV.

Yeah -- I have no real point today. The day got away from me and I found myself with very little time left over. I also haven't had much time this week to read much more than the headlines in the newspaper or glance at the cover of Time or even watch more than a few minutes of the nightly news.

So I have a fragmented, attention-deprived view of the world. I know there's a drug solution somewhere for this syndrome. Legal, of course. This Was the Week That Was. Much social anxiety. Some PMSPDD. Difficult.