Letter from America
September is the cruellest month --no matter what some geezer said about spring lilacs -- what with the hectic rush to do everything you intended to do during that oh-so-long summer vacation, work, moving back to school, social engagements, the County Fair and Rodeo, etc, etc. Not to mention a small matter of my university's nasty case of ignorant insolence. Tremble, O Oxford students! Your coursework matters not to the admissions office of my alma mater! Odd, since mine is an institute of higher learning that accepts students solely on the basis of their ability to sign cheques.
Yet the worst of September is the wait. Slow run the sands of time when summer has lost its appeal, and you look forward to those first few days on campus. Like Christmas morning, however, those days fleet away and you're left in a mid-term funk by the second week. The courting season ends as eligible birds rope their fashion-accessory fraternity boyfriends and nest for the winter. The rest of us study, asleep and drooling, on a collection of painfully PC textbooks.
But that's to come. What else is awful in September? Oh yeah, since I heard so little about it, I nearly forgot the Evil Eleventh. Nothing again, nothing, not even the OJ trial, could top the media airtime given to the remebrance of the poor sods and heroes hit hard with a severe case of wrong time/wrong place. And to the general dislike of anyone not pro-Starbuck's. That is, pro-America. If nothing else good comes of last year's terrorist exploits, many more Americans now recognize the existence of a world outside. World map sales have rocketed over the past year, but how many are used solely for dart practice? W's copy must be worn through in the general Mid-East vicinity for sure.
A word on W., and why we elected him. As you know, the entire election process was a farce, and humour was most definetly the deciding factor in the race: W. is funnier. We liked Saturday Night Live's piss-takes of him so we prolonged the comedy by keeping him around for four years. Or more. The world's Left fail to see the funny side. What a shame. But to Bush's credit, he did win the election free and clear: Gore admitted, 'I was wrong, you win'.
Then came 9/11. No one wants to face the questions raised by the Trade Towers' fall. Will the world keep a flexing Uncle Sam from wrecking Saddam's day, and is America's challenge to great for the UN to survive? We're sickened by suspense: hurry up please, it's time.
But in the end who really cares? Football season is on. Not shinkickball, but the ecstasy of the American alpha-male! Monday night, Thursday night, all damn day on Saturday and Sunday. Throw some baseball in occasionally and we need do nothing else. Let Saddam be a dick, we're watching football.
17th Oct 2002