for 16 August 2000. Updated every WEEKDAY.
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Filler: Generation Ex
Polly, Many thanks for questioning the questions discontenting the queasily quiescent. Sure did raise the hackles on my dysfunctional ticks. Not that it does any lasting good, but the exercise affords a certain distance between me and the aforementioned ticks, err - questions. It's a distance, and I mean this as sincere praise, not unlike that found in the joyful consumption of alcohol/drugs, or even occasionally in the indulgence in excessive sports fandom. Maybe it's something to do with vacating your identity for a time — and who doesn't need a vacation? In belated, but related note to your Fillerversary survey, what do I find myself doing after nigh these many years of Filler? Living a life of quiet respiration, it seems. Chasing after what I wanted sure hasn't delivered the goods, so now I'm trying too be very still and quiet. With any luck, that rabbit will hop close enough for me to club it. Of course, this is the rabbit of all my hopes and aspirations. I have this image of a 15th century painting, "St. Anthony Abbot Tempted by a Heap of Gold," where Anthony is standing on a road, with a fine house and a ship and foreign lands visible around him, symbols of earthly temptation, or so I'm told. There's also this little rabbit there with him, just off the road, which I figure might as well stand for Anthony's personal hopes. Anthony's standing there, looking at the rabbit, but unmoved by its temptations. Still, I sense him thinking, "... if only I wasn't wearing this clumsy robe, maybe I could lunge out and throttle the bastard." To be honest, I don't think this strategy is working any better for me than the chasing did. Which brings me back to the simple charms of ironic detachment, and beer — cool, soothing beer. R'gds, Zack Haberer Zack, Do you know that when a girl wants to know if she's going to marry the guy she's seeing, she twists the stem on an apple and says the letters of the alphabet, pausing on the letter of her favorite guy ("A, B, Ceeeeeee") so that the stem will break on that letter and she'll know they're destined to be married? How many stems do you suppose make it all the way to Z? That bunny rabbit isn't even in the neighborhood, buddy. But I know how you feel — I, too, was swinging that heavy club around, trying to bludgeon me a rabbit but mostly just fucking shit up. Recently I, too, have resigned myself to staying very quiet and still until the bunny rabbit crawls right up into my lap and sings the Macarena. Actually, I probably won't even take notice until it sings "Flesh and Blood" by the Sundays. Ah, but the beer. The cool soothing beer. Quiet and still, Polly  Polly- About 2 or so years ago you predicted that upon my graduation from Bucknell, I would spend several years living in Vail, skiing, vomiting, and listening to phish. It looks like you were right on at least some counts. I recently accepted a job in Colorado, and while it's not really anywhere near Vail, there are skiing areas near by, and I'm sure that I'll be listening to some phish while I'm there. If I end up moving to Vail or start vomiting a great deal, I'll be sure to let you know. If i'm ever in San Francisco, I owe you a coke. Mike Stevenson <mike@godisdead.com> Oh, mark my words. You'll be vomiting. Thanks for the update. My next prediction is that you'll have fun in Denver, but eventually you'll get pretty bored, hanging out with your friends in the same old ways day in an day out. Then one day you'll meet a really great girl, and you two will be MADLY in love, and then she'll start getting all bitchy and demanding and she'll say that you need to grow up and make more of a commitment and you'll say "To hell with this! I don't need this!" but later you'll regret it and kind of wonder whether she was The One and you just blew it because you were a baby who didn't really "get" the concept of PMS. But then you'll think, "Nah, she was lame," and you'll hang out with your friends again, and everything will be cool, but sort of boring after a while, and then you'll meet this really great girl... Let me know how all that turns out. And thanks again for keeping me abreast of your movements. Polly Dear Polly, It was so nice to see you again! We had such a nice vacation, that big bridge, that district with all the hippie shops. Oh, and that chinese food, that was very good. They don't have that in Cleveland, do they? I never would've guessed it, but my little sister's a famous writer now! Dad's so proud of you. And thanks for showing us where you work. Those people you work with seem nice. That internet stuff, that's the wave of the future! Heh heh. But the traffic, everyone drives so fast, don't they? You really gotta watch yer step. And the rent. I just can't believe it. You three girls all living in that tiny victorian and ya could buy a house for that back in Cleveland, I'm tellin' ya. But hey, it's yer life. I'm not telling you what ta do. Still, yer so thin. Ya gotta eat girl. A strong wind could blow you away. The problem is they don't have real food here. It's all just vegetables. How ya gonna keep your strength up? Here, before I forget, mom made these cookies to give ya. So, when ya moving home? Ha Ha. Just kidding. No, really. It's a lot better now. The Browns got a new stadium and everything. Look, we gotta go to the airport now. I wanna see you this christmas, okay? Your big brother, Michael Chicchelly <mikeamy@stratos.net> Dear Mike, I'm in therapy now and I blame you for everything. You could have been nicer. You could've thought about how to cater to my needs at age 6. I mean, you were 8! It was your responsibility, as the elder sibling, to think of me. But no. You just did exactly what you wanted to do, like a child. And for that, I will always loathe and despise you. I won't be home for Christmas, you bastard. With layers of resentment too deep to fathom, Polly Aside from spewing useless factoids, manufacturing recreational pharmaceuticals with the intent to distribute, and reading on-line magazines, we don't do much else here at MIT, aside from have flamboyant and vigorous sex in rooms lit by the ethereal glow of beakers full of radium. You should drop by and check it out sometime. Ciao Ben Schwabe <bschwabe@MIT.edu> Flamboyant sex! Radium! Where do I sign up? Does the radium kill the STDs? Is that the plan, or just a beneficial side effect? Useless, factless, and manufactured, Polly Okay, now You're cyber-humping My EX. I'll have you know that Ben (of MIT) and I had 13 beautiful, monogamous months together at Bard College. Well, not in a ROW, or anything... And, sure, Polly, you and I aren't "friends," per se. I mean, sometimes I write, sometimes you publish... eh So I think this pretty much green lights you to hop right on my former Little Punkinhead. In fact, Ben's sexual kung fu is pretty mighty. Really. I suggest you book out to Boston ASAP before he blows his janitor closet/drug lab all to smoky pieces. Just please, at least describe the sex graphically in your column and tell me if he's stopped making the Grinch Who Stole Christmas face. Go on, you crazy kids, you... Anna (formerly of Duke Law, with the Prairie Dog) Cyber-humping? Lord help me. Three lines of email equals virtual sex? Wow. It wasn't that good for me. Do I at least get to smoke a cigarette now? At any rate, good work. Your Grinch Who Stole Christmas image was all that was required to ensure that nothing would/could ever happen with me and your little punkinhead. I admire your efficiency and clock-like precision. If only I were armed thusly against my transgressors, instead of being woefully equipped with ineffectual whining after the fact via pointless, bitter cartoons. Next time, I'll try your method: "Right on! You two actually seem perfect for each other! Try not to let that middle-of-the-night farting in the bed get you down. You'll get used to it, in time. I never did, but I'm a notoriously light sleeper, so..." "Go for it, lady! Let me tell you, he's incredibly sensitive. In fact, you might consider making him wear condoms well beyond the point of risk - that is, if you prefer to have sex for more than two or three minutes at a time." compliments, and he loves giving them out - to every woman he knows. He's very expressive about how sexy his women friends look. But you're not as threatened as me, so I'm sure that won't bother you at all." But none of these has the raw power of The Grinch Face. As that guy on the Sopranos once said, "I'm in AWRRR of you." Princess Anna, you truly do belong here with us, among the Sneaky Beaky Club members. Polly The JAGged Edge Haw can "JAG" possibly be sufficiently significant to justify so many (even critical) words ? ? ? <Driker2@aol.com> Salon has daily Big Brother updates. And they're good. This is new new new media. It's the hand that feeds us, and feeds us well. Why don't you just go back to reading the Washington Post cover to cover like you like to and leave us shallow motherfuckers the hell alone? Well fed, Sucksters You wrote: "You can almost hearing the strains of Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" echoing in the distance" Hearing? Twice in one piece it sounds like it's being translated from the Japanese! And JAG beats the crap out of the anti-culture drivel coming from Fox (Rupert). Eric Welch <ewelch@gia.edu> You got some problem with stuff being translated from the Japanese? The Japanese give us all the best stuff. We can almost smelling the sushi right now. Echoing, Sucksters Subject: All the Revolutionaries are on CBS! I think I once saw about 20 minutes of JAG and assumed it was a knockoff of "A Few Good Men." The way you describe it reminds me of the hidebound TV programming that covered Amurrica in the late '60s like a cloud of U.S. Army nerve gas over a Utah sheep ranch. It's the return of "The Glass Teat," Harlan Ellison's collection of columns about TV from 1968 to 1970. Even JAG sounds like a rehash of The New Lawyers (or maybe The Young Lawyers), which starred a young Zalman King, in whom Ellison saw greatness. Could CBS reinvent itself as a reservation for safe TV programs, a living monument to the glory days of the Big Three? Maybe the Tom Reddin Report will be reborn as "Straight Talk with General McCaffrey (or successor)" and Aaron Spelling will remake his 1970 sci-fi howler, "The Love War." Glen Campbell. The Rose Bowl Parade. Variety shows! But who will be the new Spiro? The Global Retirement Village. Who knew? Creamed corn and Jello for everybody! Ralph Ralph's Spoilsport Motors You are definitely a man after The Boob's own heart. The show you are referring to is neither The New Lawyers nor The Young Lawyers, but The Storefront Lawyers, CBS' first serious attempt to get down with the youth culture in 1969. It's a watershed moment in boomer culture, even if the show was a complete bust (although I agree with you about Zalman King - no man who directed Lake Consequence can be all bad.) Eventually, CBS stumbled across All in the Family, and "relevant" sitcomedy was born. JAG would have fit very well on the schedule alongside the shows CBS canceled in its epicmodernization drive, such as The Dean Martin Show, Green Acres, and so forth. You would think they would have picked up on this, and adopted a whole new attitude along the lines you've described. Cute toddlers, stuffy valets, celebrity Roasts. The slogan could be "Mild in the Streets." As for the new Spiro, his name is legion these days; just ask any "impudent snob." yrs, The Boob |
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