Scintillatingly Droll

Yawn. Current drama in American politics is blasé no matter what happens. I am not interested in benign polyps of the colon or ear wax removal in anyone's medical history. Kennedy assassinations compared to flagging campaigns must have been done before ~ I mean, really.

The awkward struggle to back-stroke with equanimity after foot-in-mouth statements on foreign diplomacy is like "impeccably bad" *theatre Dan Akroyd only dreamed about on early SNL.

The de-evolution of our national culture is depressing. Did you hear about the Wi-Fi sensitive residents of Santa Fe, NM who are suing the city because they are allergic to deadly signals menacing government buildings? How come no one anywhere else in areas more densely populated than artsy-fartsy little Santa Fe is experiencing this singular affliction? Does this mean I can get hives from my t.v. remote control? I don't know who to sue- Sanyo, Qwest, EverReady or Governor Napalitano.

I feel badly for the kid who tried to siphon gasoline out of a car with a vacuum cleaner (he recovered well enough to graduate with his high school class last week), but - really, what was he thinking? Monday's headliner was pretty much the epitome of our disposable culture: the inventor of the Pringles can died and had his ashes placed in his invention.

We are all attending a grand and sloppy festival of no common sense. Where do they find endless streams of people with abysmal anti-talent and grandiose, nay ~ towering self-confidence to populate all those popular reality shows? This is obviously the back-lash we deserve after 25 years of self-esteem awareness crap; (competition is bad, we can't have a winner because then there would be losers, it takes a village, don't highlight an achiever for fear of offending those that ain't, etc.).

I'm tired of potty-humor movies that do so little to explore dramatic script, inspirational film and a soaring musical score. I'm fed-up with the equivalent of lip-syncing instead of the thrill of real art and classic literature. Where is good old fashioned charm instead of overt sexuality? Finesse instead of le crass? My artist's soul languishes for intellectual and cultural stimulation ~ there should be more poetry in everyday life, deeper content in simple speech, more respect for language and the irrepressible magic of the written word. I need a good laugh.

Engrish:

Eat your heart out Shakespeare ~* Dan Akroyd SNL Theatre Critic Character: Leonard Pinth-Garnell was a recurring character played by Dan Aykroyd. Pinth-Garnell, always clad in a tuxedo and black tie, would lugubriously introduce a short performance of "Bad Conceptual Theater," "Bad Playhouse," "Bad Cinema," "Bad Opera," "Bad Ballet," "Bad Red Chinese Ballet," or "Bad Cabaret for Children," and then exult in its sheer awfulness. Aykroyd played the character nine times from 1977 through 1979, and returned for a single appearance on November 3, 2001, introducing "Bad Conceptual Theater." (The show was hosted at least one time by Laraine Newman as Lady Pinth-Garnell.) Pinth-Garnell was loosely based on the longtime PBS Masterpiece Theatre host Alistair Cooke.

Memorable quotes

• "Stunningly bad!"
• "Monumentally ill-advised!"
• "Perfectly awful!"
• "Couldn't be worse!"
• "Exquisitely awful!"
• "Astonishingly ill-chosen!"
• "Really bit the big one!"
• "Unrelentingly bad!"
• "Rally socks!"
• "There... That wasn't so good now, was it?"

Station Wagon Wars

There it was, look at it! Larger than life - almost braggin’!

Oh, yeah, I sure need someone to explain something here ~

right smack on the back of her mom’s station wagon,

a “JOHNSON for PRESIDENT” bumper sticker!

“What’s wrong with you, gee - has your dad gone nuts?!”

Boiling hot and indignant with GOLDWATER fever,

a second-grade friendship teetered painfully balanced

on a sidewalk of the civil arena.

Wounded, my best friend’s tears spoke a transcendent truth;

in just so many words, (of which I quickly took note),

grown-ups have a right to their political views ~

and little kids ~ don’t vote.

* My girlfriend Aviva received the brunt of my critical out-burst while her mom waited for her in the offensively decorated family coach..I am really glad I felt the sting of self-reproach the instant I saw my friend’s eyes well up with hot, hurt tears. I never brought it up again. I already knew the Lees were good people. I had been at their house so many times I could have been Cindy Lee. Her mom's 'West Side Story' record album was like the holy grail to me; I was drawn to the cover to admire Natalie Wood perched on the fire escape. If we asked her to, Aviva's mom would play that for us and I thought she was the most cultured woman on the planet. Our brief confrontation was definitely an early lesson in allowing others their own self-expression.

This was the infamous Johnson / Goldwater presidential race of 1964. Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson of Texas ran on the Democratic ticket, and Senator Barry M. Goldwater from Arizona was the Republican candidate.

No little kid could have been more supportive than I was, reverently watching my dad carefully peel the wax paper backing from his blue and gold “Goldwater for President” bumper sticker. As a dedicated contributor to the Goldwater campaign, Papa actually played a role as a Southern California campaign strategist that I would not be aware of until many years later. At the time, though, it seemed all that mattered in the world was that Papa said Mr. Goldwater was the best man for the job. It didn’t hurt that the bumper sticker was so beautiful, either. I thought it was a lovely compliment to the rear chrome bumper of his brand new Benton blue tailfin Cadillac.

~ this is the title poem from the 'Station Wagon Wars' collection