So here’s what I think happened, and just trust me on this because it’s a real breakthrough: On New Year’s Eve, while everybody was celebrating the arrival of 2007 by consuming copious amounts of “spirits” and producing huge rackets with their noisemakers, Earth was walloped by a large meteorite from the planet “Sleazy and Bizarre Behavior.” Tragically, cheerful party-goers were so occupied slurping down liquid merriment concocted from the book of “Bartender’s Easy Entertainment Tips” that they missed the disaster entirely. Because how else can we explain all of these off-the-wall altered states of goings-on?
The harbinger of “2007 is a Very Weird Year” was the Christmas Day passing of the “Godfather of Soul,” James Brown. Mr. Brown’s diminutive remains were paraded about in a white horse-drawn carriage, which wouldn’t have been too bad had it stopped there, but his gold, open-topped coffin eventually ended up as the centerpiece of a bizarre “Songs of James Brown” memorial tribute performed energetically by the woman claiming to be Mrs. Brown. Proving you can never be overdressed for your own funeral, the late James Brown experienced no less than three costume changes for the various celebrations of his life. And, two months after his death, James Brown’s body lays moldering in his coffin because his family was embroiled in a bitter dispute about who had the final say about the Godfather’s burial site.
Another body that just couldn’t seem to get buried is that of Anna Nicole Smith who died mysteriously in early February, setting off a media circus of colossal proportions. The big question is the identity of Smith’s infant daughter’s father. Is the father her former boyfriend or her current manager/companion/boyfriend/husband/dog trainer/party planner Howard “Not-the-Shock-Jock” Stern? Or how about the possibility that the baby was fathered by the frozen sperm of her 89-year-old late husband or possibly by one of her bodyguards or in the words of one of Smith’s acquaintances: “It could’ve been any of about 25 guys.” Um … right. But the chap I’m rooting for is the 59-year-old – and supposed prince – husband of 90-year-old Zsa Zsa Gabor. Yep – works for me. And if they have an “open call” for DNA samples, I’m definitely signing up my spouse. You just never know.
The emotional sting of Anna Nicole’s passing was lessened for astronaut Lisa Nowak who was all over the news until Smith’s untimely death, relegating Ms. Nowak to the back news burner. Sadly, Ms. Nowak – a respected Shuttle astronaut – confirmed that looking for love in all the wrong places was a real deal breaker when she drove her adult-diaper-clad backside to Florida to confront the love interest of another astronaut. Oh, those love triangles just never work out right. However, save the long distance travel adult diapers for:
Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, whose request for a larger, longer-range jet to transport her and her entourage to San Francisco from the nation’s capital without requiring a refueling stop, was denied. This setback was extra bitter coming as it did immediately prior to the defeat of the “non-binding resolution” on the war in Iraq, which passed the House only to go down in flames in the Senate. OK, call me picky, but could we please – just once – expect Congress to do what we elected them to do and pass some actual laws? Maybe they could start by outlawing the existence of people in power with non-governmental sounding names like “Scooter.” Also, I’d request a vote against “Muffin,” “Chip” and possibly “Irene.” But let’s forget the “non-binding” legislation, members of Congress, because you work such a pitifully small number of hours a week already, and this “symbolic” stuff seems to me a colossal waste of government time and resources. Although I am considering writing my check to the IRS on a napkin this year as a sign of my symbolic tax return. If our government leaders want symbolic gestures, who am I to argue? Let’s all jump on the symbolic band wagon!
Speaking of symbolic gestures, Britney Spears apparently suffered the mother of all bad hair days and shaved her head, setting off brand new media frenzies. Sister, I feel your pain, but dang! Your noggin is going to freeze like an Eskimo pie running around like that all winter. And what’s up with the two tattoos that followed the “Britney Buzz?” Apparently this is in preparation for her upcoming session in rehab. No, I don’t know what she’s going to rehab for except that everybody who’s anybody seems to be going into rehab these days. For example:
A top-level evangelical preacher in Colorado entered rehab to address admitted homosexual tendencies after confessing he had given in to his “dark side,” emerging three weeks later “completely heterosexual,” and I am, unfortunately, not making this up. Two African American men got into hot water for making anti-gay remarks: one, an actor on a hit TV show, checked into rehab. The other, basketball’s Tim Hardaway, was surprised at the outcry and apologized, noting, “It was like, you know, I had killed somebody.” Michael Richards, formerly “Kramer” on Seinfeld, admitted himself to rehab for launching a racist tirade during his comedy show. Mel Gibson hit the rehab trail for his anti-Semitic remarks. And who can forget the Florida congressman who fled to rehab after the jig was up about his Internet correspondence with young men formerly working as White House aides. Apparently the Florida representative had given into his “dark side,” too.
So it seems there is no lack of bad judgment from a number of folks who ventured boldly into the limelight only to find themselves exposed as frauds, juvenile or just plain deranged. I wonder: is there a rehab for hypocrisy? Or stupidity? How about silliness? Idiocy? Poor taste? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think there’s a long list of contenders that could benefit from a little of that rehab therapy. Maybe they could even get the group discount.
Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at
Ga*********@ao*.com
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