Tulips or Two Lips?
Imagine that you invite me to address your garden club about my experiences growing prize tulips, and I speak for 45 minutes on the esoteric elements of the Russian Revolution of 1905.
They must have sent last nights invitation to the wrong address.
Hear Ye and Me
The subject was another one of those nonsensical proclamations from the feel-good crowd that the City Council hands out the way Rudy, our family baker, used to reward children with shiny pennies.
If we were good, Rudy would give us a penny on each trip. I guess we werent good last night because we surely paid for it.
Arent You Tired Yet?
You can always tolerate a bad speech if the narcissistic orator displays the decency to remember his or her audience has other obligations the rest of the week.
In no particular order, the lady drenched herself, then drowned us, over and over, in waves of watery-eyed irrelevant rhetoric.
The whack-a-doo plan was to present a proclamation to someone in honor of Womens History Month.
A Liberal Perspective
Clearly God has put liberals on earth to prove he has a sense of humor.
You would figure the City Hall procurers for the night would scour the streets of Culver City to find a woman of stature to honor.
There is no shortage of such ladies within easy walking, or crawling, distance of City Hall.
The Game Plan
In 30 snappy seconds, the chosen woman could have reeled off the names of a dozen of historys most outstanding females.
Mission accomplished instead of mission bombed to smithereens.
The audience would have applauded, and then we all could have resumed comporting ourselves as adults.
Is She Still Talking?
Instead, the lady lawyer droned on for what felt like an hour about women as victims of that other gender, whatever its name is.
This is honoring the women of history?
Just to prove the same dumb mistake could be committed twice in the same building in the same night, another nice lady strode to the microphone an hour or two later to babble more aint-men-dreadful drivel about April being Sexual Assault Awareness Month.
After the first womans page-fumbling and speechifying, which I measured with my calendar, and now another paean to victimology, I seized upon a patch of emergency lifesaving strategy.
Adroitly, I moved back 2 rows.
I suspected an unlucky man was going to be burned at the stake. I did not want to be the first one to be volunteered.
The evening, however, was not without its educational component.
Who Ever Knew?
As if struck by a lightning bolt, an historically important thought visited me:
If God had known smart liberals were going to lard the spring calendar with all these really terrific I Is a Victim ideas for April, he would have transferred Passover and Easter to victim-free months.
That way, God and us boys could have had the rest of the year, serenely, to ourselves.
