Many important things happened this week. Or perhaps they didn't. This is what I know: Katie Couric is apparently a lot fatter than you think she is; wise God finally struck Jessica Simpson mute; the "Crocodile Hunter" was tragically and rather poetically speared through the heart by a murderous sea beast (RIP); John Travolta kisses boys on planes; someone called "Lady Sovereign" (apparently a "British Rapper"—bwahahahaha!) was spotted being "really short" and "whistling" at Pike Place Market; and thousands of readers truly appreciated my recent defense of Tom fucking Cruise's mundo-mas weird-assness, for which I thank them. But something else is on my mind—or more correctly, in my tortured, tortured dreams. But we'll get back to that.
"Dear Adrian, I saw that British rapper girl Lady Sovereign in the Pike Place Market. She was whistling. She's really short. And has cornrows on one side of her head." —Ben
Yes, Ben, we've addressed that issue, excluding her alleged cornrows, which I hope you are making the fuck up. But back to my dreams: I keep dreaming about NUCLEAR WAR! BOOM! These dreams are vivid. They are terrible. A flash, and all my skin vaporizes. And it is all George fucking Bush's fault. Don't doubt that for a second.
"Adrian, We saw Geena Davis at the Union Bay Cafe. She waited with three other people for a table, got one, and then promptly left. According to the hostess they "didn't want to wait." Suspicion is that she overheard us saying: 'Hey, that looks like Geena Davis!' mixed with a lot of giggles due to too much wine. Thanks." —Pam
Yes, Pam, it all goes back to what I said right after 9/11. Remember? "It would be an unthinkable mistake for us to allow those with an interest in doing so to exploit this catastrophe for their own ends, either by ushering in, at best, a new and unprecedented era of warlike Ugly Americanism, or allowing our constitutional rights or autonomy to be sacrificed in the wake of reactionary federal security paranoia that is sure to follow" [Celeb I Saw U, Sept 20, 2001]. Now they are putting microchips in our passports, working madly to get fences built along our borders, monitoring our finances and internet usage, spying on our phone calls... well, Geena Davis can barely get a table, the Crocodile Hunter is dead, and I keep blowing up in my sleep. So apparently no one listened to me. Still, I understand that it's dreadfully felonious to threaten to kill the president, but I wonder what the legal implications are of admitting that I might not fret too much if someone else accidentally blew the fucktard to bits instead. Goodness knows I'd sleep better.
BOOM!
Send! adrian@thestranger.com
