We’re not going to protest

It’s protest time in DC. It’s that wonderful season right after Cherry Blossoms that indicates that summer is almost here. The tourons are in town. Traffic has gotten gummy. The weather (we’ll get to that in a moment) is pleasant enough. Kids on titanium Treks are protesting globalization. Dude, you want to do something productive?… sell the bike and donate the cash to the Peace Corp. Better yet, join the Peace Corp and stop bunging traffic around Dupont.

I saw a Ford Taurus with a bumper sticker that read, “I’d rather be smashing imperialism.” Um, hello? You are driving a piece of the cultural imperialism. You want to smash imperialism, fine, that’s your perogative, but I think you ought to do so wearing sack cloth and ashes, not a dirty J Crew outfit. On that subject, a great number of the protestors running around DC these days look like members of Clown College out on Spring Break. It’s hard to be taking seriously if you look like a juggler from some third rate touring circus.

You want to change the world? I think Eat Static really summed up the best strategy to change the world. “We’re not dropping out. We’re infiltrating and taking over.”

It’s 39 degrees in Boston right now. There’s a good chance of snow throughout New England. It was 94 three days ago. Heck, it was 101 last week here. Trying driving to Norfolk, VA in a suit in 100 degree weather… it just ain’t fun. You want to fight something… fight what we are doing to the environment, use public transportation, walk more.

“I don’t wanna grow up”

I have returned from LA and I can get Tom Waits’ “I don’t wanna grow up” out of my head. Why, you ask? Well, I spent then weekend in Palm Desert, a sleepy retirement community outside of Palm Springs. My cousins now live there and my parents were visiting.

So there was a large BBQ while we were there. Fifteen or so fifty, sixty, seventy-something year old couples descended in their golf carts on my cousin’s place. Conversations ranged from golf to golf to what their sex life used to be like to golf to golf.

“How do you move in a world of fog
That’s always changing things
Makes me wish that I could be a dog
When I see the price that you pay
I don’t wanna grow up…
Open up the medicine chest
And I don’t wanna grow up”

When my cousin mentions that he, at age 60, is the youngest guy in his poker game by ten years. That his bowling league starts place a 3pm and is done by 5. That his poker game starts at 6pm and ends by 10. That the flag is almost always flying at half mast over some of these developments due to dying residents.

“When I see the 5 o’clock news
I don’t wanna grow up
Comb their hair and shine their shoes
I don’t wanna grow up
Stay around in my old hometown
I don’t wanna put no money down
I don’t wanna get me a big old loan”

My dad though at the outset of the weekend that he would love to live in a place like that. My mother was skeptical. After that barbeque, Dad was disgusted by the whole place, golfing aside, and swore he would never live in a place like that. Go Dad!