Respect Authority

I went out to a bar last night, a full four days after Barack Obama was elected President of the United States in the biggest and bestest mindfuck in recent history. And over our beers, and disconcertingly loud music, my friends and I didn’t spend our meeting and greeting moments asking about work, or school, or complimenting each other on scarves or sneakers well chosen. We high-fived. We said things like “We fucking did it,” or “Oh my God, it’s real.” We toasted to victory, to relief, and most importantly to change.

Even before he steps foot into the White House in January, Barack Obama has done more for this country in the last six months than George W. has done in the last eight years. The most pessimistic of cynics (Aaron) are searching the cavities of their blackened souls for long-forgotten remnants of hope, while the rest of us just sit and wonder how it happened, how just when we weren’t expecting it, the country stood up and did something important and intelligent and right.

So this week, the future freaks us out, but not in the “Would it be better to just take a cyanide pill now?” way. There’s still plenty to worry about: global warming, the war, the economy; none of it disappeared overnight. But with this particular wild card in our corner, it’s okay to start freaking out about other stuff too: Will the dry cleaner shrink my shirt? Will I do well on that test? Why are they making another Punisher movie? With President Barack Obama, we can afford to be neurotic and trivial again. So let’s pay tribute to well-deserved inanity, with this week’s The Future Freaks Me Out.

For Laughs

The National Disaster Summit convenes in New York City this week, because in America the best way to deal with disasters is to summit about them. The multi-day event includes presentations like “Creating a Safe Resilient Building to Limit Liability and Exposure” (Translation: When The Planes Come, How To Make Sure It’s Not Your Fault”) and “How To Set Up a Triage Area” (Translation: You’re Fucked). Let’s hope this is one of the few remaining disaster-related seminars out there, and that pretty soon we’ll be having multi-day conferences about things like “How To Contain All Your Happiness.” Until then, enjoy the continental breakfast at the Fear Festival.

For Tears

Sometimes, often even, sequels really shouldn’t be made. Madagascar the first, which yes I happened to see in the theater, induced more than a few cringes, so I have no doubt the movie’s second incarnation will really bring the house down - into writhing tortured creatures so desperate to leave the theater they’d bite each other’s heads off. I have to imagine that Ben Stiller signed on for two consecutive films from the get-go, otherwise it would have truly been in his best interest to back away from the project about three years ago. David Schwimmer is unabashedly washed-up, and Sacha Baron Cohen can let his Borat performance counteract any less respectable roles for at least another year or two, but Stiller’s dangerously close to buying himself a one-way ticket to Will Ferrellville.

For Shits and Giggles

With all the change headed our way, it’s likely that some day soon we’ll be as carefree as the Canadians, which would undoubtedly give us ample opportunity to develop new creative ventures. What this really means is that eventually we might even have a Cirque de Soleil ‘Merican-style. And considering CDS is one of the most perfect examples of people with far too much time, imagination, and access to mind-altering drugs out there today, I think it’s safe to say I like the direction America could go in on this one. So in an effort to prepare for the drug-addled days ahead, lush with drawing boards and questions like “But can we afford the 20-foot robotic clown made of glass?” be sure to buy your tickets to Wintuk, CDS’ seasonal display of batshit craziness.

Last Week’s (Inane) Highlights

• Dunkin’ Donuts Is…Still Making Donuts — “Because really, if there’s one thing I feel my online presence is lacking, it’s the ability to send mindless tweets about my donut preferences. I’m pretty sure this would yield just one tweet from me, which I would therefore be forced to send every hour, on the hour. It would read: ‘Jelly-filled, fuck yes’ or I suppose, to get technical about it, ‘Kira is Jelly-filled, fuck yes,’ which actually takes on an entirely new meaning.”
• Let Andrew Sullivan Be — “The Mormon Church is tackling gay marriage in California so they can earn street cred from the bigger religions who’ve ‘always looked down on Mormons.’ Religious people, we don’t live in a bad Mad Max sequel. Churches shouldn’t be renegade gangs that pick off social depravities for the same reasons you might try to shank the biggest and blackest inmate on your first day of prison. This is America, not the Australian parliament.”
• A Picture’s Worth 556 Words — “There is a bit of a robbery going on in photojournalism, particularly that which comes out of the so-called ‘third-world.’ It is the, often unfortunate down-on-their-luck, subject that makes the photographer great, not the other way around.”
• High Enough To Touch The Sky — “Drugs are interesting in that they can be tons of fun when you’re sitting on your couch next to a comforting bag of Cheetos, but get thrown in the back of a squad car… without any Cheetos… and you’re suddenly in a horrifying nightmare world, traveling at light speed and the puke-stained seat you’re cuffed to is trying to eat your ass.”