Congressman John Dingell to Bill O'Reilly, et al: Lighten Up, Francis

Even if the poetry doesn't quite scan right, thank you, Congressman Dingell.

Olbermann Puts the Biscuit in the Basket re: Katrina

The title is a lame throwback to his sportscasting days, but his commentary on last night's Countdown is one of the more eloquent pieces I've seen/read on the slow fed response to Hurrican Katrina. My favorite sentence from his op-ed: "[The federal government] has just proved that it cannot save its citizens from a biological weapon called standing water."

Louisiana, Louisiana, They're Trying to Wash Us Away

It was a little over two years ago that G and I spent a week in New Orleans. As you can read from my entry back then, NOLA fully deserved its rep as a sybaritic Utopia. But it was also a city that lived by a sharp dichotomy. Southern gentry in one world, tremendous poverty in the other. Taking a cab at night to catch Kermit Ruffins at Vaughan's Lounge in the Bywater, though uneventful, was enough to get my white chickenshit heart palpitating - as soon as we left the Vieux Carré, it was nothing but narrow and poorly-lit streets and run-down houses. When we got to the bar and realized the door was locked and we had to get buzzed in, it was a mortal certainty that we were on the wrong side of the tracks. But once Kermit played, people of all stripes packed the joint and shook their asses. That was New Orleans in a nutshell - you could practice abandon, but not necessarily reckless abandon.

And now it's been unspeakably laid to waste. It's been almost a week since mandatory evacuations were ordered, four days since Katrina hit, and yet it's still a place where the reinforcements and provisions have yet to arrive. A National Guard soldier said after being in New Orleans and Iraq, he'd take the latter. I watched Keith Olbermann tonight and witnessed the desperation of the thousands at the Convention Center. This is a place where people were told to go, as a shelter of last resort. They were told that they'd be taken care of. And yet, no real help has arrived yet, and there are dead and dying people in the streets. It's not like FEMA and the rest of the fucking government didn't have the heads-up on the impending arrival of a Category 4 hurricane.

So it comes to this. While the Superdome and the Convention Center became scenes out of Soylent Green and Hotel Rwanda, the President took time out to strum a guitar and eat birthday cake with John McCain before finally giving up the last 2 days of his 35-day vacation to try to look serious. Then, when he gets down to bidness, he takes the time to tell an outright lie (or self-deluded obfuscation) about nobody anticipating a levee breach. The Vice President? Is he at some undisclosed location with the Tin Man looking for a new heart? Who knows? And the Secretary of State decided to help the cause by taking in Spamalot and blowing a mint on Ferragamo shoes. But hey, the Speaker of the House threw himself wholeheartedly into an immediate rebuilding effort, the size of which should rival the Marshall Plan... er, actually, fuck it, let NOLA sink into the Gulf.

I'm livid and horrified and despairing for the people who didn't have the means to leave when they had a chance, be they residents or unfortunate tourists (there but for the grace of God go any of us who've visited during hurricane season). There is no motherfucking excuse that things are as they are. The people who had little to begin with, and are now being left to suffer in the most abominable ways. This is how we treat the least fortunate of our citizens?

Rick Kaplan Is a Damn Fool

The president of MSNBC wouldn't know compelling television if it stared him in the face - which it did on Monday's Countdown. Olbermann's thoughtful, comprehensive coverage of Peter Jennings (punctuated by a 12-minute video essay) was later given a first-person perspective of sorts by his admission of a recent cancer near-miss of his own related to his pipe and cigar smoking. He spent the 7 minutes of his program being as direct as possible, proselytizing (and I mean that only in the best way) about the dangers and ultimate self-destructiveness of smoking. It was the best use of TV's bully pulpit I've seen in a long while. And Kaplan thinks it scared people from Rita Cosby's debut. Give me a fucking break already. What a zilch.

South Africa?! Is he getting the Nelson Mandela scared-straight boot camp treatment there?

Because I've been flaking on my bloggerly duties doesn't mean a lack of activity in my life. Quite the opposite. I'll expound in future posts, but here are a few bullet points:

I'm getting married next summer. Here are a couple of photos from the proposal. We've been basking in the joy of it all the last few weeks. Lately, the logistics and budgeting have bogged us down, but things are falling into place early.

The daily emotions we're feeling are truly pendulous. Loved ones have fallen ill, on G's side and mine. My brother-in-law was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS) about 6 weeks ago. He and my sister have a 6-month-old daughter, their first child. I don't think I can convey the sadness we've all been feeling since we got the news, but I know all I can do is be around and support everyone as best I can; though I can't help but feel powerless in the big picture, I know there are many things I can do here and there.

The job is what it is. Approaching 5 years in August. There have been quite a few changes since the end of last year, and I suspect more will follow. But I hope my own loyalty (or recalcitrance, take your pick) will be rewarded with continuing employment (aka regular contributions to The Wedding Fund).

One good British opinion on why the Disney machine will turn the Muppets into neutered pseudo-funny zombies.

OK, so why has Chappelle's Show season 3 been delayed again? Fuck, Dave, put anything on, will ya? I'm sick of this subpar Blue Collar TV / Distraction / Con bullshit.

I'm back from a week in Arizona, only to get the news that Hedberg is gone at 37. Fuckin' awful.

Oh hell, I wish I were anywhere near Broadway this week. This sounds heavenly.

In front of his typewriter, glass of Chivas at the ready, with his family in the house. Jesus.

Another one gone: Dr. Gene Scott. You can't forget him if you've seen him in his full spleen-venting, FCC-bashing, pyramid-ruminating prime. Or if you saw the clip where he goes nuts and plays a finger-poppin' ultra-Caucasian gospel quintet over... and over... and over... and over... He loved his wine, his show horses, his last trophy wife, his fine cigars - not necessarily in that order. How refreshing - a televangelist who didn't bullshit anyone about what he did with the money. With Dr. Gene's passing and Dr. Hunter pushing the eject button yesterday, this earthly plane has suddenly become much more mundane.

I thought the whacked-out bastard would outlive us all. Ho ho. If you haven't already, read Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72. For extra credit as an adjunct, read The Boys on the Bus by Timothy Crouse, HST's assistant on the campaign trail, to see the method behind the Gonzo madness.

Try to ignore the slow descent into solipsistic wankery, the flabbiness and unintentional self-parody of his later work. And please be so kind as to overlook any journalistic poseurs you may have encountered during college, who strained to mimic the debauched Thompson zeitgeist but didn't have the chops - or the sober perspicacity - to craft an article that used fictions to point to the real black heart of a subject. (I know all too well; I was such a poseur in the day, possessed of the skill, knowing of the Gonzo form, but too indolent do the legwork, too chickenshit to be fearless enough to pull it off.)

Requiescat in pace, honcho. May you have all the mescaline you can eat, Caligula playing on a loop at Artie Mitchell's heavenly bachelor pad, a personal mojo wire to God... and Nixon roasting on a spit at your "welcome to the afterlife" party.

Recent bloodsports I love:

Olbermann gets plenty of hang time on O'Reilly. I'm still waiting for Bill to get the call from the Falafel / Vibrator Hall of Fame.

"Jeff Gannon" gets "divorced from reality" by the intrepid lefty blogosphere. Reminds me of when my pals from high school (we were on the newspaper together) BSed their way into press passes for Giants and 49ers games, numerous times. They were slackers; who knew that if they really applied themselves and kissed the right ass, they could've gotten into the White House Press Room? Naturally, the seamier side of the Gannon/Guckert exposé makes me want to break out into a few verses of "Schadenfreude" from Avenue Q. Now he's playing the victim card. Wah, wah, wah. Fuckin' shill. Go back to your Delaware obscurity and underwear photos.

About goddamn time. AT&T Usurper Park should've gotten the All-Star Game much earlier than '07. They probably didn't because the Giants found a way to build the best park in the league without raping the taxpayers, unlike the newer and crappier parks in Milwaukee and elsewhere (and the park they want built in D.C.). That the Giants got it done pissed off Commissioner Bud - the man who deserves every bit of scorn and ridicule he gets, now until infinity, for cancelling the '94 season. Karma works, though - Bud pulled the plug on the All-Star Game in the 11th inning a couple of years ago in Milwaukee (the team he used to own, in the city he raped for a horrible ballpark) and got shown for the first-class tool he is.

RIP John Vernon. (Link via Aaron Barnhart's TVBarn.) You'd probably remember him best as Dean Wormer in Animal House. I also loved him as Mr. Big in Keenan Ivory Wayans's I'm Gonna Git You Sucka.

Work is giving me major agita this week. Just saying.

The late-night king is gone. His recoveries from bad jokes are legendary in comedic circles. Late night won't be quite as conversational again, I fear.

Yesterday I had a big audition. It was for Theatre Bay Area's general auditions, a once-a-year event where numerous casting directors attend. As for my performance: to paraphrase Shakespeare, verily, I sucketh. Ugh. Perhaps they'll forget about it. I don't think I'll be booking any theater roles out of my audition. I don't want to rehash the various and sundry ways I sucked; I'd just like to exorcise them with some holy water.

One more reason to consider moving to Canada: you can get college degrees in comedy. Joe Flaherty of SCTV, Freaks and Geeks and numerous other projects, is a teacher there. Does any educational institution in the U.S. offer this? Too cool.

Prepare to see this ad on Craigslist:

"Jon Stewart said I was a dick and told me to stop hurting America. CNN thought he was right. Looking for a gig, anywhere. Will work for bowtie. Contact Tucker Carlson, pronto."

The fucked-up thing is, he'll probably end up on MSNBC right after Keith Olbermann, which will make my remote trigger finger even itchier after the end of Countdown.