Foccacia? Avocado muenster? Have you spent the whole of this recession beneath a mud mask? It is no wonder our ideas are being rejected, viagra who can afford such fancypants notions in these times? I urge you to consider a center-left approach to lunch, and order a turkey sandwich.
7 a.m., i put on my helmet and prepared for the worst. My last few elections in New York City, I was still pulling the lever, old timey-style. In a booth with a curtain, like my mother used to take me when I was 7, and I could run out crowing “I votered!” and terrorize poll workers for lollies. Unfortunately, I think I “votered” for Ronald Reagan, but do not hold this against me. Ronald Reagan, Ronald McDonald, just gimme my damn lolly!
This would be my first election with filling in ovals and hanging Chad. Or hanging someone, whoever they could find. Predictably, it was chaotic. The incorporation of pen and paper into the transaction meant extra folding tables, more lists with your name on them, and more workers. But somehow fewer brain cells. A middle aged couple lined up in front of me to receive their ballots and were repeatedly asked, “are you voting together or separate? Together or separate?” by the lady handing out the ballots. For here or to go? Can I help whose next?
At any rate, it is done, DEMOCRACY SERVED UP HOT N FRESH.
We’ll be checking in throughout the day to see how democracy is faring. Maybe in 2010, maybe in our time machines. Whatever seems less depressing.
Election? As in, pill for people? I thought we were meant to be choosing between fear and sanity?
But I am an American voter, which means I suffer from a general confusion and an inability to distinguish between concepts. Point me toward the totalitarian libertarians! What if I prefer a fearless sort of insanity? I ENJOY YELLING. Where is MY candidate?
Ok, internet, I am here to GUSH. Did I have a child and experience a love heretofore impossible to imagine? Did I quit my job? Did I get a dog and dress it up as a sailor? No, no, and sadly, painfully, no. But I did see Pee Wee Herman on Broadway with one of my oldest and dearest friends. And though we greeted him with the shrieks of adoring children who have not forgotten their favorite, bizarre-o playmate, this was no nostalgia tour or Star Wars Christmas Special. Pee Wee looked amazing, and genuinely brought the funny with his mild, delicious misanthropy. He greeted us at the stage door, all charm and politeness.
I don’t want to detail the show, because the run has been extended to Jan. 2 and it really is a must see. Miss Yvonne and the Jambi the O.G. (original genie) were on board for the production*. I feel droolingly gleeful about shouting
mekka lekka hy mekka heiny ho
mekka lekka hy mekka chonny ho
in public. It was not just me who left the theater jumping up and down and grinning for miles. Across the aisle from us was the double rainbow guy, judging from his enthusiasm. For me, moments of true happiness, untainted by wistfulness or some darker feeling, are so rare, so unbelievably rare, it is sad. AUGGH. Ruined it.
*I do feel it incumbent upon me to mention that Laurence Fishburne did not reprise Cowboy Curtis himself. Excuse me, Larry, you got something better to do? Counting your matrix money and tracking down your daughter’s porn must keep you pretty busy, admittedly.
We could not rest on the glory of our V2 Summit, for the sea ice is melting and Marc Bolan is still dead! So we hit the Georgetown Martini and Rossi circle and attended our friends at a State Dinner at the White House. Imagine our astonishment when that nice young man, Barack Obama, said he did not know us! Hand to heaving bosom, we really know how Snooki must have felt. Which usually only happens when we are searching for our missing underwear.
When you have egg on your face, make béarnaise! People, we have to rectify the situation of our comparative obscurity. Morrissey is depending on us! So we look to you, gentle readers. Please continue to enjoy a spot of vomitola, and tell your friends. And when you submit to our ads of interest and click our links to our other sites or buy our comely vomitola wares, you put porridge in Lambchop’s mouth. Which god knows she needs, because if you leave her to her own devices she will subsist on candy canes. Spread the love, and pass the Vomitola.
Although we can see Russia from right over here, sometimes the great heads of state must convene. And so with much fanfare and slicing of cantaloupe for continental breakfast, did Licketysplit journey from the New England seat of Vomitola to its New York office. Apparently the world has problems that not even Steve Strange can solve. Everywhere one is met with Audio/Visual Terror! Filthy, stringy men in fishnet quartershirts play bucket drums, people screech about poor cell phone connections, a terrier will stop and crap right in front of you! And so we pored over a hefty agenda that included staring out over the East River, gadding, lolling, letting you live (however ill-advised) and climate change (there was some). Of course, anytime the V2 unites there is bound to be dissent. Some of you do not approve of our zero tolerance policy toward mom-jeanshorts while others fight for the right to employ the term “irregardless”.
Over the hubbub of protest, much progress was made. We diagnosed ourselves with Asperger’s through a helpful online quiz, and, after much careful debate, determined that:
“At the end of the day, it is what it is.”
The controversy of who is “The Mary” continued, with Licketsplit gaining the upper hand in designating Lambchop “The Mary”.
This matter is far from over. Look for Lambchop to declare Licketysplit “The Mary” in the future. Will it be skywritten, will it be etched into the nose of a neutron bomb dropped on a muslim country? Every nation is permitted its secrets!
At last it was time for the summit to adjourn for the Veuve had been drained, the last goose slain, and the flag bunting due back at the rental. Your Lambchop is quite bereft, but I have decided to follow all those thoughtful reader suggestions on how to handle depression. I joined a club! Just waiting for everyone else to show up.
Plus l’artiste comprend les intentions de nature mieux, plus il triomphera de lui plus facilement.
The better the artist understands the intentions of nature, the more easily he will triumph over it
Inside the offices at Vomitola HQ
