As I’m writing this, rumors are circulating that the Mueller report may be dropping in the near future, and who knows? There could be a chance that the world will have turned upside-down (or back right-side-up) by the time you read this. So... hello, friends-of-the-future! I hope it’s better on that side! It’s times like this I always wish I was into horoscopes and astrology, because if I could just look at the moon and know for certain that we’re fucked, I’d quit getting my hopes up. I know for a fact the only reason I didn’t get into astrology in my youth is because my late-June birthday means my sign is a Cancer, which is not a cute word, and the associated animal is crabs, which are not cute, and the sign for crab looks like a 69, which would have been a hilarious—but not cute—tattoo. Long story short, if anyone feels confident looking at space and just giving me a thumbs up or down, I’d really appreciate it. For now, let’s focus on things that for sure happened because our source of information is the news and not outer space.
Happy Belated President’s Day to Barack Obama Only
Former president and my future best friend Barack Obama recently spoke at a conference for My Brother’s Keeper—the effort he started to lift up young men of color—and touched on some of my favorite talking points: Michelle Obama, and the dangers of toxic masculinity. *Heart eyes emoji.* He began by introducing himself as Michelle Obama’s husband, because he recognizes that as a power stance in the year of our lord 2019, and went on to say: “The notion that somehow defining yourself as a man is dependent on, are you able to put somebody else down—able to dominate—that is an old view.” Hmm, I wonder if that was secretly directed towards another president, one whose name perhaps rhymes with Ronald Chump? Maybe! Chump certainly has old views.
And what was Chump old-viewing back in 2013? Why, he watched Miley Cyrus twerk on Robin Thicke, of course! Miley told Vanity Fair that Trump called after the infamous 2013 twerk-off to tell her he “loved it.” VOMIT. This isn’t surprising because Trump is tacky and has bad taste, but I’m mad that I have to know about it, and I don’t want to feel alone in that knowledge, so now all of you know it, too. You’re welcome! All-together now: VOMIT.
Can Somebody Else Be President?
Bernie Sanders threw his hat in the ring. (Does he have a hat? He always has hat hair, so I assume he wears hats, and we just don’t see them because he’s always throwing them into rings.) I’m not going to share my opinion on this because all of my residual 2016 anxiety is bubbling back up to the surface. Instead I’ll just go to my happy place, which is listening to the Hamilton soundtrack for the millionth time. Mm, yes, nothing like the soothing voice of Christopher Jackson as George Washington on “One Last Time,” singing about the importance of stepping down to make space for someone else to step up, getting the voters comfortable with new, emerging leaders, and not getting wrapped up in the cult of personality... not sure why this is resonating so much right now... la la la... the nation learns to move on....
While Bernie’s entrance into the 2020 presidential race is sure to make it... something... my favorite entrant into this week’s democratic primary news is the woman who interrupted New York Senator and presidential hopeful Kirsten Gillibrand in Iowa City. As Gillibrand was speaking at a crowded diner, a potential voter shuffled past, excusing herself with the most American excuse ever: “Just needed to get some ranch.” Candidates, let this be a lesson! Make sure your crowds of Americans have ample tubs of ranch before expecting them to listen to you ramble on about “the economy” or whatever.
Ariana Grande Could be President!
Ariana Grande ran into her sworn nemesis, British “journalist”/insufferable hack Piers Morgan, at a restaurant. If you’ll recall (and you’d better—this is important stuff!) Piers and Ariana got into a delicious feud last year after Piers dumbly went after some of Ari’s friends, and Ari gave him a big ol “thank u fuckin next” (her words). WELL, apparently the two recently bumped into each other at a restaurant, got to talking, and eventually were sharing selfies and well wishes on Twitter. This begs some questions, such as: Whatcha doin’, Ari? He’s bad! Also: why don’t I ever run into Ariana Grande at restaurants?! The only time I ever ran into someone famous was one time in the ’90s when I saw Newt Gingrich, and my parents, hell-bent on curating our interest in civics, asked me and my brother if we wanted to go shake his hand, and we were both like “Uh, no thanks,” and they were like, “Good, he sucks.” This story is both boring and over 25 years old, message being: I really need to meet Ariana Grande! I’d look way cuter than Piers Morgan in a selfie.
Speaking of stuff from the ’90s: The Real World: San Francisco’s beloved power couple Judd Winick and Pam Ling recently celebrated the 25th anniversary of the day they met, which was also the day they launched one of the most influential seasons of reality television in American history (RIP Pedro Zamora). If you disagree, I’ll stick my finger in your peanut butter. Congrats, Judd and Pam!
Bears for President
In local news, according to KATU, Grants Pass wildlife rehabilitation organization Wildlife Images ran a promotion over Valentine’s Day where, in exchange for a $20 donation, they’d write your ex’s name on a salmon and feed it to a bear, and then send you pictures of a bear mauling your painful memories. Ugh, I miss everything cool! I’m definitely going to start putting aside my 20-spots for next year. I wonder how many fish a bear can eat in a day? And is there an option for providing the license plate numbers of people who slowly and dangerously turn left on green arrow stop lights, causing the cars behind them to have to wait another cycle? I’ve got a list of problems that apparently only bears can solve.
The Last Word
Oh darn, I’ve used up all my space and didn’t even dish about the Academy Awards! Seeing as how my only real commentary would be 5,000 fire emojis underneath a photo of Billy Porter’s tuxedo gown, I think you’ll be okay. That said, I’m all done writing this column, and you’re all done reading it! See you on the other side of the war. Stay dry. Kiss, kiss.