2008 - How Did This Happen?

Excuse me. I went to the women's restroom, aka the Powder Room, and got distracted. It's only been, what, a year and a half. So for those of you who likewise have been holed up in a restroom somewhere since 2006, let me tell you a few things about life out here America. And be forewarned, none of it is good. Nada. You may well want to put it in reverse now and seque right back into the shitter once I bring you up to date. Well, wait, I don't actually mean "right back." You'll want to shower first for Pete's sake, and get your hair cut (might I suggest a little color, too; by the looks of those 3-inch roots, time has not exactly stood still there in the The Throne Room). Maybe check in on the kids. Your ex. See what he's been up to lately, just for the hell of it. Just remember, you are a good, kind, beautiful person, inside & out, no matter who he's hanging with now, whether she be rich or gorgeous or thin, thin, pencil-thin with proportionately muscled calves, a wisp of a waist, bubble butt, or perky bosomed. None of that matters because you've got class. Remember that in those long, dark, dank hours in the stall -- when reading old New Yorkers by flashlight might seem like not quite enough. You have class. You chose isolation, it did not choose you. And that has made all the difference.

Okay, back to now. In this year of our Lord 2008, the Lord is not a happy camper and neither is 95% of the thinking US population. The other 5% -- that would be those in show business and politics -- are sanguine, either under the influence of designer drugs, sloth, and booze or tickled to orgasm by their own hubris and narcissism. A recession and an election loom. A black man and a woman are among those vying for the candidacy. It's a rainbow campaign. Speaking of rainbows, Radiohead let people pay whatever they wanted for their latest CD, In Rainbows. Now we're all wondering: does Radiohead have self-esteem issues? There is still a war in Iraq, and if President Cheney has his way, we will soon be at it with Iran, and none of the neighbors in the Middle East are having block parties or sitting out on their stoops at night, spinning yarns about the good old days. Because no one in the Middle East can remember even one good ol' day. It's just been one awful bad continuum for a godawful long time over there in Allah's homeland. Everyone hates the U.S. but Everyone Loves Raymond. Go figure. If we were a smart people, we would just package up Ray Romano, replete with a good supply of Vicoden, Zoloft and weed, and send him over to Bagdad to start a Fitness Center. Or a coffee house with free wi-fi. And a large battery pack and bottled water, because there is no reliable power source or potable water in Bagdad these days. Or operating restrooms! We've really made a mess of it.

On the upside. . . the fashion world is healthy and thriving. Reality TV is the only thing sustaining the networks because of the Writers' Strike, currently in Day 94, ballpark. Guys like Jay Leno and David Letterman have been forced to write their own jokes. As if they were comedians. Tabloids rule. Britney shaved her head and performed a Dance of Shame on the Grammys in an outfit from the 2nd-Hand Store for Whores and purportedly is an unfit mother to boot. Yes, the girl's complexion is bad and she wears cheap flip-flops, but it's so obviously just a cry for help. But do any of us step up and lend Britney a hand or offer to babysit? No, and I'll tell you why. Because we, as Americans, are a selfish group. We point at Lindsay Lohan in her 19th stab at rehab and think we are better. We care not about our brother or sister in the gutter. We care only about our own personal economy. Will I be able to buy those riding boots which so closely match my iPod's cozy? Is that a Bluetooth sticking out of your ear, or are you just happy to see me? Is global warming a hoax? Is it man-made or just another evil trick of Mother Nature? Or is it punishment, like Katrina. Were those polar bears paid to float on glaciers the size of ice cubes with that look of hopelessness on their furry faces? I swear I saw one wink at his buddy. The thing is, I just don't want to worry for nothing. If we're going to drown in the rising sea level, I'd just as soon spend my 401K now and go out satiated. If resources become scarce and I've gotta start hauling a gun, I want to know who the enemy is. Terrorist or pissed off Polar bear?

And this: everyone cool and edgy lives in Brooklyn now. Brooklyn! Who knew?

Oh look! Stall number 2 is vacant. Run for it, girl!