So what did you do for Inauguration Night? I was at Carnegie Hall, reclining luxuriantly in my balcony box and listening to, among other things, an Australian bloke blow Acca-Decca on the didge. There was also Olivia Newton-John, who at 60 is still 1) hott as a pistol and 2) with T.S. Eliot and George Gershwin, among the Iconic Triumvirate of people who share my birthday. (Honorable mention to Donna Douglas and Pope Paul VI.)
As I sat there, taking in the grandiose space, and the music of the Adelaide symphony orchestra therein, I thought of how people are starting to wipe memories of Bush from their collective memories. It's like we're all having an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind moment and deleting the word from our brain pans. Moses consulted the Burning Obama. There's no sense beating about the Obama about it: a bird in the hand is worth two in the Obama. Let's hire an obama pilot and see the Obamamen of the Kalahari. Or Nellie Forobama in "South Pacific."
I also reflected on my marriage, which coincided almost exactly with the previous administration. Parallels abound.
We are pressing on now. Pressing forward, to the future. We must not linger on the mistakes of the past, because that would be totally Bush-league.
(We might have to leave that last one as is.)
