If you pay close attention to the news, the commercials during the news, newspapers, bumperstickers, tee shirts, your mail, can read, or exist, you may have heard about the upcoming election between Rock and Paper. Another election, you say? Was there not just an election roughly three years and fifty-one weeks ago? Well friend, your ability to gauge the passage of time is strangely precise. There was indeed an election not four years ago. Past elections though, while admirable, were meaningless in the face of this election. Bush vs. Gore? Inconsequential. Reagan vs. Carter? LBJ vs. Goldwater? These were the elections of children.
Even Lincoln besting Douglas in 1860, and the ensuing abolition of slavery and Civil War, in present context was as significant as Randy winning America’s Got Talent. We needn’t look only to American politics for comparison: the breakup of the Soviet Union, the French Revolution, ancient Athenian democracy. Yawn! The only contest of near importance was the landmark decision of Homo Erectus v. Homo Sapiens, running on the platforms of whether or not to leave the cave.
Left: “We’ve come too far to go back to the policies that drove us into this cave to begin with!”
Right: “My opponent calls eating bugs and pooping in the corner progress. I call it the status quo!”
Well, we really had the rug pulled out from under us. And just when we were getting the hang of it! I have a hard time reading newspapers—what with just the one good eye and all—but my wife tells me we were all over the headlines. We were getting so much attention that we were detracting from the players and games themselves!
Of course the prima donnas couldn’t stand for this. They sought only the status quo, when the boys in stripes were like second class citizens, neither seen nor heard, nor arbitrarily determining the outcome of contests! Let’s just roll back civil rights while we’re at it!
I’m no hero. I just a referee. But I did make this collage that suggests otherwise.
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.