O, darn. In less than a next week, our collective fate will be set. Somebody fucking hold me. I. Am. Petrified.
Negroid, please. Of all my lies, that is the most terrible. Not only am I not petrified, I refuse to be petrified. Why? Am I superhuman? Mad? Yes. And specious rumors (like people under 25 years old don't have land-line phones and therefore aren't counted in the polls or something) combined with more reliable factors--such as my own rarely emerging but stubbornly undying faith in humanity and this freaky dream I just had--assure me that we can expect a surprising outcome on Election Day. Something like this, maybe: John Kerry will win by a shocking margin; Bush and his evil minions will try to steal the election back from him by whatever means available, from flinging their own dirty monkey feces to... well, it's best not to think about that.
Or is it? Either way, Michael Moore's gonna make movies. God fucking bless him.
As if all this weren't disturbing enough, Tom Waits has a wife named Kathleen Brennan. They came here. And they were seen. "Tom Waits and a small entourage made their way through the Pike Place Market," we are assured by hundreds of eyewitnesses. "It's a sad statement on the economy when Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan can't afford a large entourage," no one said.
Also seen: Joanna Kerns, who pioneered moralistic, nuclear-family-oriented '80s propaganda television as "Maggie Seaver" in the sitcom Growing Pains, was spotted at the airport. "I realized she was a sitcom mom of some sort," one star-shocked witness sort-of reports. Mike could not be reached for comment, and Carol was probably barfing. Or driving drunk.
Wait. That was no freaky dream I just had! That was Meryl Streep and Winona Ryder in House of the Spirits, the spectacular film version of Isabelle Allende's semi-autobiographical novel! (Winona looks like a porcelain angel. Even as the army commander--AKA her bastard half-brother Pedro--scorches her labia with a cigar in the military regime's torture chambers during the conservative-party coup that was funded and executed by the Nixon-era CIA to overthrow her country's democratic elections. Mmm. American History.) Huh. I get terribly confused now and then.
Also seen, too: The American Experiment, holding on by its teeth or finally crashing down like a wall of corrupt, corpulent glass, next Tuesday. Get on your knees and pray, friends. I. Am. Afraid.
Or am I?
Vote fucking JOHN KERRY--then, DUCK!
