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October 30, 2007

Pre-Collision Intelligence

On long flights, I like to watch movies with the sound off. When I get home, I watch with the sound on and compare the actual story with the story I’ve made up. I was so wrong about About a Boy. I hope they never show Snakes on a Plane on a plane.

I also like to watch muted ads to try to figure out what product is being shilled. Whenever I see an actor friend in a commercial, I have a clue, because she claims she specializes in the lower gastro-intestinal tract. So that doesn’t count.

During the World Series, [note to Red Sox: when you sober up, do not even think of hiring A-Rod, he’s a spoiled trouble making diva] between the interconnected beer and erectile dysfunction ads, I laughed every time that woman jogger ran into a parked car. Even when she got up, dusted herself off and slammed into the car again, I laughed. I still don’t know if the ad is for running shoes or lasik surgery, but my girlfriend is shocked at my low threshold for the pain of others. I thought I knew what the unsettling “pre-collision intelligence” ad was about, but it actually has something to do with a car.

Full disclosure: I suffer from the condition known as “pre-collision intelligence” and I wish there were a pill for it. It would have to be the size of a direct TV dish. When I’ve forced myself to watch the train wreck that is the president do a press conference, I have kept the sound off. He seems to have a little pal planted in the front row that he smirks at, like “Can you believe they’re going for this crap again? Whooee!”

First, is it my imagination or is my presidential profiling accurate in assessing that the mysterious hair area 41 between the presidential brows is growing? The area, on others known as ‘the third eye’ has a thatch of hair that now melds into his eyebrows making for a uni-brow that looks like a very wooly caterpillar. It’s going to be a long nuclear winter.

Let’s review: when we have weapons of mass destruction, they are called nuclear weapons; when other countries have nuclear weapons, they are called weapons of mass destruction. Everybody has caught on to the discrepancy. Ahmadinejad, Chavez, Putin, even Castro’s brother are laughing in our faces. We are the Rodney Dangerfield of countries.

As the Republican candidates sink further into a swamp pre-owned by the Democrats and now in foreclosure, my pre-collision intelligence tells me that while boy George jaw jaw jaws about working with other countries to spread democracy, he is fixing to bomb Iran, declare a state of emergency, and a third term. My friends think I’m being paranoid, but watch for the developing silly gism of: Katrina is to California just as Iraq is to Iran. Don’t just watch their lips move. Unmute. “California shows how much we learned from our mistakes in Katrina. [especially if we’re rescuing white people] We’ve learned so much from our mistakes in Iraq. We’re ready for Iran.”

He declared a first term and nobody stopped him. You tell me why not a third?

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