Land Of Trees And The Mysterious, Elusive Flying Shoe
Bleh.

Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored.

Oh the doldrums of blogging in February. Too late to recount the time you on New Years' Eve when you drank too much pink champagne, threw up on your mother-in-law and then spent the next three days in the hospital recovering from hospital poisoning, too early to tell the story about how this St. Patrick's day when you will drink too much green beer, throw up on your mother-in-law and spend the next three days in the hospital recovering from alcohol poisoning.

Basically, it's hard to be a blogger when the occasion to drink artificially colored alcoholic beverages is non-existant.

It doesn't help that there's absolutely nothing else going on. Nothing.

As sharp and painful a memory as last year's election is, man, I'd give anything for those days again. Every other week one of the two candidates would make an ass of themselves in some easily-bloggable way. Then I could knock this thing out in 15 minutes with a brief re-cap stolen from other blogs, add some easy dick jokes and I'd be back in front of the TV watching the 1952 Olympic bronze medal curling match on ESPN Classic.

What we need is a political event with some splash, with some zazz, with some pop. Something like a debate. Remember how easy those were to cover? We could immediately adopt Our Guy's wild misrepresentation of the Other Guy's position and then boo and hiss when the Other Guy did it to Our Guy. Plus, it was always an excellent opportunity to use the word "douchebag". Everyone instantly knew what you were talking about. All the points of common reference handled themselves; no need for exposition or explanation and certainly no reasonable cause to write a three or four paragraph introduction of nonsense just to establish a questionable quasi-comic premise.

Imagine my shock and horror when I realized this morning--completely by accident as I dug deep, deep, deep into the various internet news services in order to avoid blogging about how Bono was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (again)--that last night I had totally missed some kind of stealth debate held way up in the media-and-politics hotbed of Portland, Oregon between new DNC Chairman Gov. Dr. Howard Dean and Defense Department advisor, neo-conservative PNAC-flavored war-profiteering douchebag (yay!) Richard N. Perle.

It's possible that I may have made up my mind before the debate started.

Apparently, the event was a blogger's dream. It seems to have been centered wholly on the issue of Iraq when the event was billed as a general foreign-policy forum. It's hard to say for sure since all I have to go on are local news reports. What we missed, though, was something I've always, always wanted to see in a political debate: a member of the audience screaming obscenities at one of the participants, rushing the stage and then chucking his shoe at them.

Of course I don't wish to see anyone hurt. The shoe never really came close to Mr. Perle, the target of both the obscenities ("motherfucking liar", according to reports) and projectile footwear.

Dean said some stuff about them, Perle said some stuff about us, whatever. Did I tell you a guy rushed the stage, called Perle a motherfucker and threw a shoe at him? Awesome.

The downside of the Awesome, of course, is that there's nothing left to say about it, really. How do you top thrown shoes? At least with the presidential debates you had to pretend to engage the content. Sometimes the events themselves present you with the pinnacle, a point which you as a blogger cannot top, but must simply recount and move on.

Is this what it's like to be a reporter? What a crappy, boring job. I think I understand why that "Jeff Gannon" dude branched out into gay prostitution as a complement to his job as a fake White House reporter. There's no way regular everyday news could hold a person's interest.

It does beg the question: what does CNN's White House Correspondent Suzanne Malveaux do to keep herself entertained when the White House press room goes dark?

I have some ideas. Oh yes, I have some ideas.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 7.1


Pops
- posted by Pops @ 10:31 AM