I recently added a new portroid to the directory, that of Jane Fonda. She was signing her new book called ... something or other (not actually called "something or other", but I can't remember the exact title, it's something or other like "My Life's Things" or "What Makes Me Not You" or "Generic Autobiography Title" or some such). I didn't actually buy the book, so don't start throwing gang signs up at me and calling me names (like poor Rudolph who couldn't play any reindeer games. I bet he tried to get his revenge on them by buying Ben Affleck's movie 'Reindeer Games' and playing it on his DVD player. Little did he know the joke was again on him. Rudolph, you red-nosed asshole, when will you learn?)
Anyway, as I approached the booksigning, I noticed about ten protesters out front. I tried to imagine the lives of these people.
Back in 1972, a year before I was born, "Hanoi" Jane Fonda visited Vietnam to spread her anti-war propaganda. Evidently she thought war was bad and that Nixon was a turd for bombing civilians. She claims she supports troops, but not war (sounds like every other liberal modern-day movie star in regards to I-raq, but I digress). So, on the last day of her tour she goes and visits with some enemy troops and has her picture taken shooting down American planes and torturing US POWs (you know, just for fun - like the way we humiliate our prisoners in our current spreading of democracy - except now we have video footage instead of just photographs. You gotta love technology). All was good until the US soldiers caught wind of this and got hella P.O'd. Imagine it: this girl that you lusted after in Barbarella, probably to the point of manual release, was shelling the shit out of you and your friends in that hellhole of 'Nam (like it wasn't bad enough only having young Asian girls and boys to rape). She was grenading your medical tents and fingering the shrapnel holes. What a traitor! A dirty Commie traitor!
Fast forward thirty-two years. In the meantime, the US Government sold weapons to terrorists and trained them so they could turn against us in later years, but ignore that. What's really important is that Jane Fonda has written a book and she's coming to your town to try to sell it. Oh boy. Let the planning begin. First, you've got to talk to your boss on the factory floor and explain that an old enemy is coming to town and you need a day off work to let her know she hurt your feelings. Next, you've got to stop at Wal-Mart (America's Store) and buy some poster board, some markers, glue, and a wooden stake. Once home, you start constructing your message to the masses. Ooh, ooh, ooh, best print off one of those pictures from the internet of Hanoi Jane eating some dead GI's eyeballs. Paste that to your poster board and write next to it "Traitor!" and "Eyeballs Eater!" and "I'll Never Jerk-Off To You Again ... Starting Tomorrow!" Now, get a good night's sleep - if that's even possible with the constant flashbacks and shell-shock.
Early morning, grab a coffee at Starbucks (America's Coffee Shop), and post up outside the bookstore. Some of your friends are already there. They didn't have to get time off work because their jobs were shipped overseas thanks to the President they put in office. No matter. Jane Fonda's in town and she's to blame for all your woes! When the hell are the news cameras going to arrive? You didn't spend half the night gluing glitter to the half-eaten eyeballs just to show Hank and Tommy (though they appreciate the extra effort).
The day passes without much fanfare. You shake your signs at a couple people entering the store, but no one really seems to be affected. Oh well, at least the message will strike the heart of Ms. Fonda. It'll be all new to her. Your 32-year grudge will finally be understood by she who personally betrayed you. Thank God! Maybe if you had taken any of her great many apologies over the years seriously, you would've been at work today (evidently it was a pretty eventful day. Smitty lost yet another finger covering for you at the can press . They may not let him work anymore with only three fingers between both hands. There may be an opening for one of your protesting buddies, so not all's lost).
You go home after a long day of holding your sign, resting assured that today you made a difference in the world.
I, on the other hand, actually went to the booksigning event and listened to what Jane had to say. It was pretty informative and gave me insight into what makes her not you. I waited in line and took her portroid. I also told her I liked the movie Monster-In-Law. I wish I could tell you that was a lie, but it's not.
Anyway, judge me as you will, but J-Lo versus J-Fo? You just can't go wrong.
I feel I owe it to you to give a little more info about the Aspen Comedy Festival from three months ago. After my despair of not getting to see the Eddie Izzard show the night of Feb 10, I waited for Erica outside the theater. She came out all psyched about the show, but after she found out I didn't get in, she hid her excitement so as to not rub it in too deeply my missing it. We decided to wait outside the stage door to maybe catch him exiting and to at least get a portroid for this fine site. As we waited, a super surprise guest exited the stage door unexpectedly. It was a white-haired Christopher Guest. This is a guy I truly admire for his comic sensibilities, yet he turned such a sour face and grumpy disposition at seeing people outside the door that I didn't bother him with my inane request for capturing his likeness. Some teenage kids, likely stoned (as all teenage kids are) yelled out "Spinal Tap, Spinal Tap, Spinal Tap" to which he quietly replied, "That's right" and walked away swiftly. The teenagers left and we were joined by Drama Kid. Drama Kid is the kid from Everytown, USA who wears a ridiculous black fedora and fancies himself the next great world-class actor because he had the lead in his high school's production of "Boy Are We Gay". Drama Kid let us know the stars he had seen and we let him know the ones we had, and then we left because we suddenly felt much less cool than ever before in the existence of "cool". We went home and no portroids were taken, and my chance to see Eddie Izzard vanished. Oh well. The next days would be better.
That's it. I hope you had fun. If you didn't, because you took offense to everything I said, I'm sorry (that you take everything so seriously).