2001-01-31 - Lunchtime
Excuse me while I slap the French. Or just that portion of the French who listen to this guy:
"I would urge parents who want their children to develop non-sexist, non-elitist, progressive views to keep all four Harry Potter novels out of their way. Harry Potter may look like an intellectual with his glasses and his unruly hair, but once deconstructed he is only too clearly the hero of a political allegory for the triumph of the socially ascendant petite bourgeoisie."
I�m guessing this dude doesn�t have kids. I don�t either, but I�m not the one expecting small children to grow up immersed in postmodern literary theory and not turn into unhappy social mutants who get beat up at school every day.
Stuff like this reminds me why I�m not as politically active as I should be. I made it one of my New Year�s resolutions to give more money and time (especially time, since I have more of that than money) to causes I believe in--our new President is going to be spending the next four years pissing on everything I care about, so I might as well piss back. The problem is that so many "activists" deserve pissing on, too. I don�t suffer fools gladly, and white middle-class fools in Birkenstocks, tie-dyed shirts and Nader for President buttons not at all. It�s childish of me, and I�m sure I�ll find a way to deal, but when I hear the word "progressive" I want to reach for my squirtgun.
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Reading badsnake�s diary has convinced me that I need to have more lesbians in my local circle of friends. It�s not a sex thing--well, not just a sex thing--it�s the mouthwatering breakfasts she and her family have every Sunday. I�m a witty conversationalist and I clean up after myself ... any lesbians in San Diego willing to make me pancakes?
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A while ago the local Yellow Cab company--under pressure from the Chamber of Commerce, the Convention and Visitors Bureau and no doubt the crazy old battleaxe next door to where I used to work who leaves nasty notes on your car when you park in front of her house and who I can easily imagine writing letters to the newspaper every day about how everything went downhill after Prohibition was repealed--stopped accepting ads for strip clubs. So now, every taxi you see around town has a big sign on the roof with the single word "DALLEK."
I have no idea what DALLEK really is, but every time I drive past a taxi now I want to lean out the window and shriek "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" at the passengers in this high-pitched, warbly voice.
How long will it be, I wonder, before some other Great Big Geek with less impulse-control than I does exactly that? And if tourists are going to be scared by some harmless ads for titty bars, imagine what Dr. Who references from random strangers will do.
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