I'm running as fast as I can

So where are we now?  Up to our eyeballs in Depends jokes.  A little too close to home for me, thanks.  I'm moving my mother to nursing care next week.  No pathology, just lots of stress.  The personal care home, which is lovely and close, can't take her cat, who is extremely handsome, friendly, and playful.  Any takers?

Anna Nicole Smith is dead.  Is she a Democrat?  I think a dead person in the presidential race would add to an already diverse selection, and now that John Kerry has declined to run, that slot is still open.

Gavin Newsome is in huge political trouble because he's been outed ... as a heterosexual.  Well, you gay guys: now you know how we felt when we learned that Rock was light in the loafers.  Oh, Gav's an adulterer who betrayed his closest aide, but that's beside the point.  Oh, go listen to some Barry Manilow records and get over yourselves.

On a completely different note -unless I start talking about Yasser Arafat-  I am always fascinated by the news footage of meetings that take place in Saudi Arabia and places Middle Eastern.  I indulge in a bit of Eurocentric aesthetic snobbery and enjoy judging the decor of the meeting rooms relentlessly.   In short, all of these places look tacky tacky tacky and I don't mind saying so.  Like this big Terrorist Meet today in Mecca, where Hamas and Fatah finally agreed in principle to stop shooting at each other (if they honor this cease fire the way they have all of the others, I believe we are in luck).  I look at the room and it's a big square with armchairs all around the perimeter, backed by heavy velvet drapes.  It's carpeted with a cream carpet with a design that looks like Arabic script and there are little coffee/occasional tables that are off-white with gilt accents between and in front of the chairs.  All of the furniture looks like Jean-Paul Sartre Huis Clos This-Must-Be-Hell Empire Style.  I thought the arrangement was unpleasant, if for no other reason than if you have a private adjustment to make, an itch or something, there is no way you can take care of it discreetly.  But then, if you are a Wahhabi, maybe you don't care who sees you scratch whatever gets the itch. I mean, it's always just us guys, like you're in some big velvety locker room.   Furthermore, there were these big gift platters of dates wrapped in cellophane with gold bows that had evidently been given to the guests.  They've been meeting for days and those date things are still there, untouched.  OK, let's say you're Abu Abbas and your host, Prince Blank bin Faisal al-Saud hands you a platter of dates that's bigger than the prize patrol check from Ed McMahon.  You say: thanks, looks yummy.  You think: more effing dates.  I'm going to be spending more time on the john than I will in this room that looks like a nightmare inspired by James Brown's funeral.

Comments

[Michael Adams]

Very nice to se you up and ranting, uh, running. From all I've ever heard of the Saudis, they have no shortage of queer eyes, so why don't they get ibn al Riq in there to do a bit of decorating?