This is my prediction for the 2016 ticket for the Democratic Party Nomination for our executive branch:
A pair of Women: Elizabeth Warren and Hillary Clinton. Together. One ticket.
And I think it is Ms. Warren who is going to reach for the top. Hillary as Biden.
It is time for women to take over. Men, we had our chance and we blew it.
This is my request to the future women who will lead this country:
1. Make capital punishment illegal. It's simply absurd. It does nothing for anyone.
2. Make war illegal, too. Simply enough...you can't declare war on anyone. If someone does declare war, then the entire world has to put a stop to it. Not just us. EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY must agree that war is illegal and must stop all war. This will free up some of our resources, too, so we can get down to the business of educating our populace.
3. Push for birth control. Everywhere on earth. The population has doubled since I was born and it makes me and everyone I know crazy. 14% of all people who have ever lived on earth are alive right now. Freak out with me.
4. Make gender parity on earth a reality by 2030. It can happen. I can't listen to these women screaming about it any longer. They are right. We just have to do it. Now.
5. Make ambition a word that has a new meaning. Ambition that serves the greater good. That greater good is the planet. Once and for all.
6. Solve our energy problems, today. No matter the cost. Force the energy industry to change their tune. Yes, I'm being naive. But this Pollyanna needs you to do this immediately.
7. Here I go being sexist: Use your innate ability to build consent, nonstop. Never flag. Wear everyone down.
8. Lastly: and this is a rough request-- separate church and state worldwide. Figure out a way to make that appetizing. Come on, ladies.
You lead, we'll follow.
Bonus Round: Make half of all cheerleader squads men.
I like the gold leaves.
Event the shorter days are fun. I can go up on my roof and catch the sun going down at 6PM. Perfect time for a sunset. Like being in Africa, near the equator.
Then it will get darker and darker. Saturday we fall back and on Sunday the sun will set about 4:54PM. This is when we all start to need each other.
The darkness. The horrible darkness says to us all, "Come together, ye wretched beasts and do something about this lack of light. Get cozy. Makes meals together. Put up some lights."
And then, after that? It gets really cold.
I am going to use this year as an experiment. Last winter was so awful, you sort of could not believe what was happening to you. Agony. Depression. Disbelief. People, including me, did not fare well.
This year, my goal is to assume it is going to be really really cold outside for three or four months and to accept it, on its terms and then see if my mood can remain sort of perky. Just by accepting it.
In the dark and the cold...you have to sort of take charge of yourself. And you have to be with people with all sorts of warm lights on. And you have to decide what the future holds. It's a start.
Look, you can't really review this kind of movie without a big spoiler alert.
So this is the big spoiler alert: I will reveal NOTHING of the plot...so nothing will be spoiled.
This IS what I can say: David Fincher is a brilliant director who took a script that started out as something exceptionally intriguing and pushed it through and made it as believable as he could, given the story.
It is worth it, to watch this thing, at first. By the end, you just want to go home and wail, WHY DIDN'T THEY FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK THEY WERE DOING?! Oh, Lord Jesus, carry me off to the land of peace where I will no longer have to endure these types of misses ever again.
And now I will go back on my promise about the spoiler:
The butler did not do it. Because there is no butler. (But I've ruined nothing here, since there is never any talk of any butler.)
Slick stuff dishonestly drawn.
Come on, everyone. Try harder.
The Girl of My Dreams by Sunny Clapp
Gorilla My Dreams by Bugs Bunny
Ebola My Dreams Not as funny
I mean, I take the A train. I'll keep taking it. Until they put a DO NOT LEAVE sign on my apartment door.
The strange thing about Dr. Craig Spencer, the man who lovingly went to West Africa as a Doctor without a border, is that he is specially trained to deal with public emergencies. At Columbia University. You imagine they would teach a class in that fine program that mentions something about not getting on the subway to Brooklyn from 147th Street in Manhattan the first twelve days after you return from working closely with Ebola patients. Seems to me.
But, you know, I've been paranoid about human error since I was born. So I try to give people like him the benefit of the doubt. That perhaps, he knew what he was doing. If I do not do this sort of optimistic thinking, I simply could never get on a plane for fear of it always crashing.
No need to turn Dr. S into a monster. Chances are, New York City will not turn into the Zombie apocalypse. If just one or two random people from the A train or the bowling alley in Brooklyn get sick with Ebola, friends...all bets are off and I will be able to watch people walking to NJ from my roof over the George Washington Bridge. I'll take pictures.
But what if they don't let people leave? Imagine that. Will people make rafts and try to cross the Hudson? How about human chains? Or up through the Bronx...that's probably the easier way to the mainland if they close the river crossings.
Anyway, no time for a film treatment or for too much obsessing. Business as usual. I'm watching Journey You Tubes. And not just for the tight pants. I'm pretending. Back in 1979, we just had less Ebola. It was a gentler era.
I've been to Wyoming.
The guy who played Hans Solo, he lives in Wyoming.
I think his name is Harrison Ford.
I once hung out with a gay man actor who used to do movies with Harrison Ford.
This gay man actor rented a house up on a bluff in Pacific Palisades.
We met each other in New York when we were both living there in the 90's.
That gay man actor is dead now.
He could never let Harrison know that he was gay. He told me that Harrison was a phobe.
This does not mean that Harrison is a phobe, at all.
In fact, I believe the gay man actor was just, overall, very afraid to let anyone know he was gay. He often played tough guys on T.V.
But whenever I think of Wyoming, I think of Harrison Ford having my gay man actor friend over for dinner and how that friend felt obliged to remain entirely closeted.
I remember, in 1993, sitting on my gay man actor friend's couch, smoking pot, and singing along to all of Joni Mitchell's album, For the Roses. We almost had sex. But I would have been doing it more for the house than for the guy so I just didn't do it. Or more truthfully, I knew he'd want to keep doing that sort of thing and I couldn't imagine myself with the closeted mini movie star for the long haul. Plus, he chain smoked.
My gay man actor friend stopped hanging out with me when he said he could not spend time with me if we were not going to start dating. He had talked to his shrink about it and his shrink advised him to not spend time with men he wanted to date that did not want to date him.
I never saw him again after that phone call. When he died of a massive heart attack, I felt sort of cold.
I have felt cold about the death of a lot of gay men. It was the AIDS days and all I wanted was to survive. So I carried on. I am not proud of this. But perhaps the reason the gene of selfishness is so rampant on the planet is because it has saved the lives of quite a few people.
I imagine the career of my gay man actor friend was saved because he was afraid to come out to anyone.
I think of the poor Matthew Shepard, whom I just Googled, who I can't believe how sweet and cute he was. I am sure the guys who killed him were attracted to him. Simple enough. So they had to kill him. Big fucking square state. I did not feel too much for Matthew at the time. I was just freaked out that he did not learn, like I did as a teen, to keep your mouth shut, tell no one about who you really are, and to run away from strangers that had any inkling that you liked guy-on-guy sex. Clearly, I was traumatized and terrified for the poor young man, left tied to a fence to die. I cannot believe how horrifying that night had to be for him. It is truly disgusting. My rage is so huge, I guess I'll just have to have another swig of my ginger tea and continue editing this blog entry.
Wyoming isn't the only place where gay people were once killed. It is happening everywhere on earth, still.
Welcome, Wyoming. You monstrous cowboy town of a place. Welcome to the modern era. We know you weren't all killers of gay people, of course. Of course. Of course. But there's that image...and people generalize. I'll let you off the hook.
I recently found someone online who used to endlessly torture me as a child in the suburbs of New York, so much so, that I hid inside my house for about three years. I asked him if he was who I thought he was. He did not respond to my request. Of course, it may not have been him.