Saturday, January 31, 2009

Those Moments

Years ago, I was sitting in a laundromat, in Merced Рa central California town which should have its slogan changed from "The Gateway To Yosmite" to "the Gateway to Obscurity" Рwhen one of its citizens-celebr̩ came in and sat down beside me. Does she have a name? Probably, but I doubt that knowing it would lend anything to the story. I'll bet you do know her, though, or more accurately, someone just like her.

The Wandering Hag.

Self-distracted. Exact same outfit every day. Occupying a unique little bubble of private reality, muttering in the unknowable language of her people from a far-off planet – but by-gawd, she knows every human curse word, and suddenly ceases muttering to speak with Toastmasters-level clarity when she needs to utter a few choice combinations.

Guhmu-to-dapuh-mummun-widduh-humma-hummuh-FUCK YOU WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT MOTHER FUCKER GO FUCK YOURSELF!

Merced's Wandering Hag also had a small fuzzy blond dog who was her constant companion. Constant to the point that the little guy probably wanted to run away to the Pound. She pulled him along as she staggered up and down the boulevard – his tiny raw, tattered-mitten paws pushing in protest along the rough cement. His personal level of doggy Hell. Completely silent, no doubt because his doggy brain had learned that yipping and whining meant nothing to his white-haired, sully-skirted tormentor.

Mercifully, they are both probably dead by now.

Anyway, with great apparent purpose, upon entering the laundromat, she spotted me, and made a bee-line for the chair next to mine. She sat. I ignored her, pretending not to care about danger.

She saw through the pretense. She grinned. I held my poker face as long as I possibly could, then finally, fightingly, glanced over.

She revealed her ultimate secret to me.

"I know where the papers are. They're buried."

"Oh," I said? Then I geared into a mode that I have become aware that I do occasionally, much to my regret later on. I humored her – pretended that I knew exactly what she was talking about. It's an odd defense mechanism of mine, that has actually pulled me out of the crosshairs of a bad situation a few times, but most times, like this one, has just made it worse.

"That's pretty smart," I said, "if they get their hands on those, everybody is screwed."

"I know," she said. "You think I'm stupid?"

"Of course not. You knew to hide the papers, and that took brains."

"Bet your ass it did. Now stop fuckin' bothering me about it, alright?"

"Okay," I said, "sorry."

She huffed out, royally ticked that her daily routine had been disrupted.

I waited in silence for the dryer to finish.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

New Year's Randomness

Watch out for pedestrians. They aren't as smart as they used to be.

She'll sleep with anyone. I'm not just anyone.

For some reason, I'm not nearly as annoyed at my neighbors for playing loud music, when it's Elvis. Why is that?

Whenever I ponder just what amount of talent and charisma is minimally necessary to earn a living in show business, I eventually think of Pat Sajak... and realize it's NONE.

The one thing that aging has definitely taught me, is to appreciate, as I depreciate.

Someone has to say it: Menudo Doritos is JUST GOING TOO FAR.

I've got an itchin' for a bitchin'! (I have no clue what it means, but it sounds great!)

A flash of tit can turn even the crappiest day around.

A thought, as we enter 2009:
If I could convince you to shut down your Internet connection... put down the remote... leave your iPod at home... never mind that your phone can do all that incredible stuff, and turn it off... take the earphones out... put the Blackberry in your coat pocket... all for just one hour? And avoid even referring to those items in conversation? Now answer this – who are you?

Monday, January 5, 2009

I Convened With Intell #1


OBAMA PICKS PANETTA FOR CIA

WASHINGTON (AP) — Two Democratic officials say President-elect Barack Obama has chosen former Clinton White House chief of staff Leon Panetta to run the CIA. Panetta was a surprise pick for the post, with no experience in the intelligence world. An Obama transition official and another Democrat disclosed his nomination on a condition of anonymity since it was not yet public. Panetta was director of the Office of Management and Budget and a longtime congressman from California. He served on the Iraq Study Group, a bipartisan panel that released a report at the end of 2006 with dozens of recommendations for the reversing course in the Iraq war. Panetta currently directs with his wife Sylvia the Leon & Sylvia Panetta Institute for Public Policy, based at CSU-Monterey Bay.

Now it isn't every day that one brushes shoulders with someone in a position of mysterious power and potentially nebulous influence over the lives of every American. But in light of Mr. Panetta's most recent career advancement, a'la President-elect Obama, I'm compelled to place a record of this encounter down for digital posterity.

I had just returned to Monterey, after a time of dire poverty up north, Seattle way. Needless to say I was in just as dire a state of poverty in Monterey, but finally had some work lined up, and needed to make some phone calls. I was too broke to even keep a cellphone, so I was routinely surrendering all my loose change to Pac Bell.

I was on Alvarado Street, downtown Monterey, in Ordway Pharmacy. I needed change to use the payphone outside. Since I also needed a number of sundries sold at the pharmacy anyway, I decided to get my change via a purchase. Along the way to the check-out, I also snagged myself a Tootsie Pop. Red. No, the flavor doesn't matter – but the Tootsie Pop is essential to the story.

As I got to the counter, there was one person ahead of me... it was Leon Panetta.

He was getting a prescription filled – and yes, like Gelson's Market in L.A., if you want to see celebrities doing mundane just-like-you-and-me daily tasks, Ordway Pharmacy is one of the places you might want to hang out when on the Monterey Peninsula – just don't let your loitering become too obvious. Bruno's Market in Carmel is great too – Jenn Aniston buying coldcuts... Clint in for a case of Hogsbreath Ale... that kind of stuff. Just remember they are not there to sign autographs – it's their downtime.

Anyway, so I'm standing behind Leon Panetta, holding a tube of toothpaste, a roll of Tums, a Chapstick, a small bottle of Bayer Aspirin and a red Tootsie Pop.

Mr, Panetta completes his transaction, and lingers just a moment to sort out the contents of his shopping bag. I place my stuff on the counter. The clerk asks, as all such clerks are born to do: "Will this be all?"

I don't know why, but my mischievous side bounds forth. "No, I'd like a dollar of my change in quarters, please... and Mr. Panetta's thoughts on achieving world peace in our lifetime, and possibly my lollypop free of charge."

Oh, was I flippin' ASKING FOR IT.

I recall it vividly. Without missing a beat, Mr. Panetta turns, and calmly offers, "Complete peace, globally, will take a great deal of time, patience, and a concerted effort by all the world's leaders. As for the lollypop... you're ON YOUR OWN."

With a trace of a grin on his lips, he casually walks out, his bag neatly folded closed.

Me. And the future head of Central Intelligence. The Tootsie Pop conference. It happened.