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So, in the interim, we've got a little free time on our hands to indulge in our favorite pass-time; looking for someone to blame. For aficionados of the Hall of Blame, this past week was a doozy; between Tom Daschle, Michael Jackson, and some fat kid from The Bronx, we had us a good old-fashioned pass-the-buck-athon of epic proportions. First, the Middle Aged Moon-Walker, the long-deposed former King of Pop (even LaToya sells more records at this point), the Regent of Rhinoplasty himself: Michael Jackson. This past week he added to his long list of adorable eccentricities (wearing Sgt. Pepper suits, appearing at awards shows with a monkey, paying off millions of dollars in hush money to the defendant in a pedophilia suit) by — oh those kooky rock stars! — dangling a baby from a 70-foot balcony. What could possibly be the explanation for this unspeakably horrific crime, the kind of thing you wouldn't even see in low-budget slasher film? How do you explain the motivation behind the impulse to perform an act so hideous I feel compelled to repeat it using italics — he dangled a baby from a 70-foot balcony!?! Ah! But there is an explanation — it wasn't Michael's fault. It was his fans' fault. You see, they were in the street below, a big mob worked up into a frenzy of hero-worship, rhythmically chanting his name (did I mention this was in Germany?) and poor Michael "got caught up in the moment." This is a guy who has had fans cheering him in public every day of his life for 35 years but, apparently, he was so taken by surprise by this show of celebrity adulation that it seemed perfectly reasonable at the moment to respond by — dangling a baby from a 70-foot balcony. Damn those fans! Why can't they leave poor Michael alone and stop cheering him all the time and making him dangle babies from 70-foot balconies? Here at home another guy who hasn't had a hit record in a while, Tom Daschle, led his party to defeat on Election Day. Of course, it wasn't really his fault — nor was it the fault of Terry McAuliffe or Bill and Hillary or Walter Mondale or any other member of Daschle's defeated party. Who done it? That old bogeyman himself: Rush Limbaugh! Or, more specifically, Limbaugh's loyal army of mindless drones who, apparently, are receiving secret messages through their radio receivers to go out and (I've got to use italics again) attack Tom Daschle's family! Daschle says that when Limbaugh criticizes his policies on his radio show there is a "significant increase" in the number of "issues" (i.e.: death threats) his family has to deal with. So there it is — not only do these radio listeners vote against Tom Daschle and cause his party to lose control of the House and Senate — they threaten his family! Damn those radio listeners! How's a guy supposed to lead his party to victory when there are radio listeners out there threatening to dangle his Aunt Myrtle from a 70-foot balcony? Finally, a fat kid in the Bronx is suing McDonald's for, um, making him fat. The kid is 15 and tips the scales at a whopping 400 pounds. That's a lot of Muppet Baby Happy Meals. The kid says he's eaten at McDonald's every day for his entire life. "I normally order the Big Mac, fries, ice cream or shake — I like to super-size my orders," the kid says, that last detail an exquisite example of a classic comedic device: stating the obvious. Whose fault is it that this kid is morbidly obese? Don't blame his mom (an apparent graduate of the Michael Jackson School of Responsible Parenting). She never would have let her son eat a Big Mac, fries, ice cream, or shake every day for his entire life until he ballooned to the size of a small state — if only she knew! "I always believed McDonald's food was healthy for my son," she explained. Damn McDonald's! How's a mother supposed to raise her son to be slightly less than hemispheric in the girth department when they are secretly brainwashing parents into believing it is actually healthy for their kids to eat a Big Mac, fries, and ice cream or shake — every day for their entire lives! So what's it all mean? Is there some larger point to be made here? Do I have some pithy observation to wrap this column up? Not really — but don't blame me. The italics button on my keyboard just broke. — Comedian Dave Konig starred on Broadway in Grease! and won a New York Emmy as the co-host of Subway Q&A. He just completed his first novel Good Luck Mr. Gorsky. Konig is an NRO contributor. |
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here's
a lull in the action. The first big battle of The War, the campaign to
kick the Taliban out of Afghanistan, has long been in the mop-up stage.
Osama's apparently still on the run, his whereabouts known only to the
change-of-address department at Better Caves & Gardens. The
second big battle of The War looms in Iraq (The Son of the Mother of All
Wars) but not quite yet — we've got to get through the Blix-krieg
before the Blitzkrieg.
