March 8, 1998
Can We Just Wrap This Whole Thing Up?
Letís just get this whole thing over with, okay?
I donít care anymore who did what to whom. I just want the whole thing to be over. I want MSNBC and the frightening John Gibson to step down from DefCon 2.
I just want it all to go away. President Clinton Ė tell the truth. Monica, sweetie Ė come clean. Kenneth Starr Ė take a major chill pill. Four years later, you still got nothing on the Prez; itís time to wrap it up. Letís move on. Nobody cares.
Notice, Iím not saying that nobody committed a crime, or that nobody
deserves punishment. But I think weíve reached a consensus as a nation
Ė we just donít care about Bill sleeping with an intern. This is a problem
for Hillary, not the Grand Jury. And besides Ė thereís a long-established
American tradition of CEOís being able to sleep with interns. If every
news anchor in the country who had fooled around with an intern went off
the air, the news tomorrow would be "from Venus," if you know
what I mean.
Other random thoughts:
My Janeane Garofalo phase may be coming to an end. I fear Bonnie
Hunt may replace her. Trivia note: My two favorite comedic actresses were
born less than a week apart, in September of 1964. Imagine that.
You know those Circus Animal cookies, with the white and pink wax coating? I think I got a bag with about 80 percent pink cookies, and just 20 percent white. Thatís a lot of pink cookies.
Iím never going to the track again, ever. I swear. Iíve been three times in my entire lifetime, all since the start of the year. First time, I broke even. Second time, I won 15 bucks! Hey, this is easy! Saturday, I lost an amount of money I should not be losing. I survived without going to the track for the first 30 years of my life. Somehow, Iíll just muddle through for the next 30 years.
Star Trek update: Voyager last week was pretty dang good (lots of interesting situations for the characters, trapped in a World War Two war game simulation), and Deep Space Nine continued a truly great season by exploring the meaning of absolute love. Yay.
My other writing is going well. You know Iím "Mr. TV," donít you? Check out:
Youíll find my latest weekly column there, along with a link to the
Mr. TV archives. Catch up on what youíve missed!
Dodger season ticket update Ė Iíve been moved to a seat in Aisle Three, just off home plate to the third base side (Aisle One is dead center behind the plate), in the reserved deck. Pretty damn awesome. Canít wait for the season to begin.
Hereís a fun thing to do on the web:
Itíll translate languages for you, either a webpage thatís in a foreign language, or just text that you cut and paste in.
For example, take this blip from a recent column of mine:
"Dreams die hard on Super Bowl Sunday. Like the defeated Packers, I find comfort in a common sports mantra Ė "Wait Ďtil next year." Next year, the frogs will get theirs. Next year, the lizardsí plan will come to fruition. Next year Ö"
I translated in into French. Check this out.
"Les rêves meurent dur sur la cuvette superbe dimanche. Comme les emballeurs défaits, je trouve le confort dans un mantra de sports de terrain communal - " attendez ' jusqu' à l'année prochaine. " L'année prochaine, les grenouilles obtiendront le leur. L'année prochaine, le plan des lézards se réalisera. L'année prochaine..."
Now, Iíll paste that bit back in to the page, and re-translate it into English.
"The dreams die hard on the superb basin Sunday. Like the demolished packers, I find comfort in one will mantra of sports of communal ground - "wait ' until the next year " the next year, the frogs will obtain theirs. The next year, the plan of the lizards will be carried out. The next year..."
A "side-trip" through Spanish produced the following translation:
"Los sueños mueren difícilmente en el tazón de fuente estupendo domingo. Como los embaladores derrotados, encuentro comodidad en un mantra de los deportes del campo común - " espere ' hasta el año próximo. " El año próximo, las ranas conseguirán el suyo. El año próximo, el plan de los lagartos vendrá a la fruición. El año próximo..."
Returning to my mother tongue:
"The dreams hardly die in the wonderful bowl of source Sunday. Like the defeated packers, encounter comfort in mantra of the sports of the common field - " it waits for ' until the next year " the next year, the frogs will obtain his. The next year, the plan of the lizards will come to the fruicio'n. The next year..."
Man, I could do that all day. "The plan of the lizards," indeed.