I hardly ever do this—confess my love for married women, let alone wives of brutal Middle East suppressionist dictators. Like almost never. I’m a man of simple tastes. Picnics under sprawling live oaks with nips of crisp Chardonnay. Jean Luc Goddard nights at the vintage theatre downtown. Slow, competent love-making. I’m no totalitarian.
Still, I would be remiss, nay impotent, if I did not take this decisive moment in history to shine brightly in your direction like a lighthouse to a battered skiff, like the moon rising over Lake Assad, whose beauty is surpassed only by another Assad, you my lovely.
Left: Lake Assad. Right: “I’m a perky little fascist.”
Everyone agrees the hottest topic of the year is the coming apocalypse. 2011 was all Royal Wedding buzz, the Kardashians and Jeggings (Jean-leggings!). 2012 will be about finding drinkable water, fighting off bands of cannibals, and Jeggings, again!
All the warning signs were upon us: from the record number of earthquakes, tsunamis and volcano eruptions, to Penn State, to the television adaptation of Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea. There’s little doubt 2012 will usher in the end of times. The only question left is how it will happen. And what to wear! The following is a must-list of the swankiest spots in L.A. for whatever doomsday scenario arises.