By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
When TheOrangeCountyRegister's FrankMickadeitbegan getting random important people to rebuild his VW bus and take him shopping, I knew something had to be done to maintain my position as this county's preeminent newspaper columnist—and its most magically delicious.
I racked my giant, pulsing brain: What, whatcould that thing that had to be done be?
Aside from the dirty talk, and the loose talk of syph?
I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to my mother for last week's column about the syph—and also to the man I like who didn't give me syph, as my sentences sometimes have an unfortunate tendency to circumambulate, and in last week's column there were perhaps readers who never got so far as to understand that the man who didn't give me syph had in fact not given me syph, especially since saying so right up front would have spoiled the suspense, and I would never, but never,do that.The same thing happened when I toldhim he hadn't given me syph (rather than letting him read about it in the morning news). I didn't explain at the beginning that we had had a social scare (brought on by a particularly perilous episode of Grey'sAnatomy) but that it was nothing. That would have ruined the story! Instead it was a harrowing 15-minute recitation of all the reasons we were not meant to be (the syph he had given me being Example A) before I explained, circumambulatory-like, that indeed he had not. My friend Chersays I'm not allowed to watch TV anymore. She's worried I might give myself plague.
Commie Girl: Syph-free for over 32 years! And counting!
But we were speaking of Frank Mickadeit.
* * *
Since Mickadeit's come to town, with his fancy Starbucksreadings, and his fancy pictures on the Register's fancy newsbox placards, and his fancy wife (seriously, dude's wife is hot), I've been feeling a tiny bit underloved. And that's why I decided to take America'sSherifffor a facial. Considering the sheriff knew we'd be coming out with Moxley's story about his department's—and perhaps his own—escandalos desextwo days later, I'm not sure why the sheriff agreed to go. I guess he must just be into me.
Unfortunately, you can't get a couple's facial in Newport—some city code about hookers, I guess. Nor can you get a couple's massage, but that would be entirely inappropriate anyway, and believe it or not I'm rarely entirely inappropriate inperson.Pretty much all you can do is get a couple's pedicure. Your feets can be as nude as they want to be.
The sheriff didn't want to get a pedicure. He wanted to get a facial. I explained about the city codes and the hookers. The sheriff agreed to get a manicure (buff only), while I got my tootsies rubbed and my calluses pumiced and my nails polished up shiny and nice. And that's pretty much the end of the story, seeing as we were off-the-record and I'm not much of an interviewer anyway since I all ever do is talk about me,except that (A) the sheriff says fucka lot(I do it because I was raised by dirtyhippieswho hailed LennyBrucefor sticking it to the squares; hedoes it because he was raised by Italians, and they don't need a stinking reason) and (B) it was something to see the sheriff's vast charm in action: nobody actually chatswith the manicurists, you know. The manicurists chat with each other—specifically (according to all the heelarious comediennes who build their paranoiac routines on the so-funny accents of the so-funny Vietnamese ladies as they kneel at our feet) about how much they hate you.
Hail me, Mickadeit.
* * *
Here's a fun quote for you! Please to enjoy: "Should any political party attempt to abolish Social Security, unemployment insurance, and eliminate labor laws and farm programs, you would not hear of that party again in our political history. There is a tiny splinter group, of course, that believes you can do these things. Among them are a few Texas oil millionaires, and an occasional politician or business man from other areas. Their number is negligible, and they are stupid." –Communist President Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1954.
Not to be outdone, the Weekly's Chris Zieglerunearthed this beaut: "A little freedom is far more important than security." –Communist President Richard Milhous Nixon.
And here's a fun quote from the blog of Irvine Assemblyman Chuck DeVore, whom I ran into in the airport coming home from Sacramento on my ill-fated quest to (not) see El Governor. DeVore, at the time, was not hung-over, and I, at the time, most certainly was, and so despite my big, pulsing brain I was not at my best and couldn't refute whatever the hell he was saying about whatever the hell he was saying. Whatever it was, there were many big words.
But on to the quote! (With boldface added, because I like it like that.)
"The national discussion over the TerriShiavo[sic] case serves to illuminate the distinction between naturallawand positive law.
"Positive law, that is, human law written down in detail, says that Terri Shiavo [sic] is married and that her husband, Michael, may determine her fate.
"Sound positive law is based on natural law. Unsound positive law is based on nothing more than the opinion of those in power at a moment in time (the laws of Nazi Germany, duly enacted by German lawmakers, are an example of how positive law can be unjust and even harmful).
"Natural law, on the other hand, sees that Mr. Shiavo [sic] has had a common-lawwifefor some 10 years in addition to Terri and furthermore has fatheredtwochildrenby her. Therefore, Mr. Shiavo [sic] has committed adultery, has abandoned his wife, Terri, and has no authority whatsoever over his former spouse's fate–either that, or he should be prosecuted for bigamy!
"Any reasonablepersonlooking at the facts of this case can see this."
That was fun, no?
Being a reasonable person, I have to insist: should any man ever actually marry me, and should I fall into a drooling coma for more than a decade, that man who married me better not ever even begin to imagine about thinking of finding succor or happiness anywhere else—even if he does love me and care for my needs at the same time. It wouldn't be natural.
But what do I know? I'm probably still drunk.
It is MemorialDayweekend as I'm writing this, after all.
* * *
I leave you with a fun quote from OC's own Robby Gordon, much-at-hooted NASCAR driverfor his opinions on whoever that chick was who came in fourth at the Indy500this weekend. Here's Gordon: "The lighter the car, the faster it goes. Do the math. Put her in the car at her weight, then put me or TonyStewartin the car at 200 pounds and our car is at least 100 pounds heavier.
"I won't race against her until the IRLdoes something to take that advantage away."
Any reasonable person can see that.
See you at Starbucks!