Licketysplit is out valiantly supporting kerry in the wake of the havoc caused by Democracy in this quarter. You should see her out there in the 90 degree heat in her chainmail and armor, brandishing sword and shield, and passing out flyers. It seems that Mr. Bush wants to appoint a fellow to the FDA’s council on women’s health who opposes contraception, and favors prayer as a PMS remedy. Lord have mercy on anyone in our vicinity should that become a practice!
These are trying times. So I did what any respectable leader would do and I went on vacation. In Provincetown, the lavendar capital of Massachusetts, I climbed out on the breakers in platforms, ate lots of CLAM, and got my picture taken with Kandi Kane, who said I was a caution. Then I ended up in the tattoo parlor chair, at long last to get a sailor tattoo with a lambchop motif, but they threw me out. Apparently it is against policy to ink anyone who is stinking drunk and puking on the tiles. Well, i will be back! After all, one of my oldest college friends (looks like Bernadette Peters!) summers there with her swell mate. And it was beautiful and there are many more places I wish to be thrown out of.
To sum up, to Licketsplit’s message of “don’t vote for that shithead”, I would like to add “don’t vote for that shithead”. Or you will find me from here on out on the cape, sailing up and down Commercial Street on an electric scooter with a 7 foot tall Cher-a-like.
I have been put in charge of filing the orders of a very important customer. So I ask myself: what goes better with a glittery silver top- glittery silver polish or just the plain silver???
Life is six-cups-of-coffee-by-day,-on-the-rocks-yes-please-salt-the-glass-by-night, kind of good. Now that I am a Drudge like the rest of you, I can see it has some merits. The free flavored coffees, the bad moods, the charmingly misspelled articles in the Metro. I can stand around the copier, plucking at my highlights and talking about the South Beach diet in a South Shore Redux. (the South Beach diet is the one where you eat clam rolls and waffle cones, right?)
Since Helen and I opened the Pandora’s Box of Lambchop and Licketysplit memorabilia, I also sifted through my own box of Stuff That Used to Matter. Among the myriad of fascinating items were (1) a Brownie Smock, (2) a collection of orange Honor Roll buttons (they say “Honor Roll” on them in chunky black letters. This way all non-Honor Roll types can make them out and know they are in the presence of Achievement. I wear these to work.), and (3) a report card that says my long division Needs Improvement (NI) but my Spelling is E for Excellent!
I am going to start issuing Needs Improvement cards to my friends and associates. There really ought to be a system of checks and balances for the faux pas’ of our acquaintance, to address horrible sweaters, placing knees on the table, and interrupting ME when I am saying something fascinating.
The last thing I want to rant about, before I go back to punching holes in things, is a startling new development in Boston culture (didn’t know we had any, did you?). Musical amplification devices and Wind Instruments are strictly VERBOTEN! from subway platforms and trains. No more can that batty old geezer plonk out “Alleycat” on his Casio. And the tortured yearnings of the acoustic guitar player will also go unheard as he whispers, ampless. This is all Licketysplit’s doing, for it is she who went around paying these chaps to STOP playing. The frightening result of all this is that it has opened the floodgates to ACAPELLA. My betteylunchbucket morning commute is now punctuated by the few brave soloists who try their hands at Crooning. The resulting bellows and caterwaul make me feel like Day Room at the madhouse again.