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
* * *
On the way home, I called my favorite teacher, the one whose students' standardized test scores go up an average of 70 percent after she beats some sense into 'em: Commie Mom. "Hey, Jimmy and I are just coming from a Teachers for Westly event!" I told her.
"I hate that little fucking creep!" she murmured gently.
I explained: he wasn't creepy per se—well, he sort of was, but only because he was so fucking sincere—but he seemed nice enough, I guess, nicer than Schwarzenegger, anyway, though he did partner up with him on those stupid ballot measures (way to fire up your base, Steve!) and though he's still no Phil Angelides≠—especially since Angelides tops six feet. I called his press guy and asked.
* * *
The next night, my son and I were all set to go to a California Coalition for Immigration Reform meeting. "They're weirdoes who hate Mexican people," I explained. "It'll be fun!"
"But I don't hate Mexican people!" my son said, kinda all freaked out. "I like Mexican people! Do we have to go hang out with the weirdoes?"
"No, son, we don't!" I decided. I don't help out in the office on Wednesdays.