CSotD: Thursday Short Takes
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Let's start the day with a topic we can all agree on: One should not paint the toilet.
Agnes is planning to surprise her grandmother by redecorating the bathroom and I will say that, if she goes no further than loosening things on the toilet, a surprise is almost guaranteed.
The girls had faced the critical question yesterday, though we didn't hear the answer. I enjoyed rolling it around in my head, however, which I'm sure was Tony Cochran's intention in leaving it open-ended.
What he almost certainly didn't intend was for me to pull up behind a car yesterday, festooned with aggressive, macho racing stickers and then realize that it was a Toyota Corolla — I don't know what year, but I'd say mid-80s — handpainted perhaps by Agnes and Trout, by which I mean other people might have either removed the chrome or taped it or painted around it but let's not quibble.
At least this would-be Earl Scheib hadn't used a roller, which the wife of a friend of mine did once, leaving his car not only a purple never associated with automobiles in the first place, but speckled with little tiny burst-bubble craters and roller lines.
And we weren't 19 years old. This was the car of a man in his late 30s, and I guess one who dearly loved his wife because he drove it to work.
We'll see, between the loosened bolts and the paint, how much Grandma loves Agnes.
And speaking of cartoons coordinating with what I see on the street, I'm in the same boat at Rudy Park's uncle Mort, living my social life mostly vicariously, which I hasten to add is fine with me, mostly because there was a time when I, too, went out with cutie patooties every fortnight and I don't have that kind of energy anymore.
But yesterday was the first really springlike day we've had in a very long time, and as the dog and I were walking around the block, I noticed an extremely cute girl on the opposite sidewalk. She smiled and gave us a little wave, and I say "us" because I suspect the dog was why.
I don't know if he is, in fact, the greatest chick magnet I've ever owned or simply happened to come along at a time when I am finally perceived as harmless enough that young women feel okay acknowledging the dog.
Whatever. I'm enjoying being at the George Burns stage of life but am keenly aware of not lapsing into Harvey Weinstein territory, there being a significant difference between sweet old man and disgusting old creep.
Not sure Uncle Mort is successfully walking that line.
But it brings us to …
… Steve Sack's fictional meeting of the President and the pissed-off students.
Though purely speculative, he nails the fact that neither of them wants to meet with the other.
That afternoon dog walk came at the point where I'd been editing copy for several hours and, while my brain was still active, my eyes had had enough and I didn't want to play with the cursor and keyboard anymore.
So I walked the dog, came home, hit CNN and began to do dishes.
They had just gone live with "the President and the Kids," and my initial reaction was "Great! Someone persuaded him to meet with them!"
But when a second kid and then the first parent praised his presidential leadership, I realized it was just a puppet show and that the people in the room had been carefully vetted.
There is an element of "shame on me" for having expected anything else in the first place, because Sack pretty much captures what would happen if you let the whole Florida crew in.
And it's good that they're politically diverse.
But the people in the White House have long since figured out that you have to approach Dear Leader with good news and flattery or he gets cranky and won't even stay in the room, much less listen, so it makes sense that they'd assemble a crew of Nice Little Girls and Boys and compliant educators rather than unleash the entire group.
And it's good that he's getting some kind of feedback, even if it's gentle and compliant and thank you massa fo' all you do fo' all us nawmal folk.
And, hey, this wasn't the first dog-and-pony show of its type that I'd seen.
I spent a day with teachers at a meeting with NYS Education Commissioner Richard Mills once, where nobody — nobody — liked the ridiculous, impractical reform he was touting, and, as I wrote then:
Part of me holds to the idea that something is better than nothing and at least he's finally listening.
Another part of me slaps that part of me upside the head, because all that will come out of this will be milquetoast things we've done before which didn't work, along with another pantload of thoughts and prayers.
Two photos I saw last night:
This one came up in my feed while I was looking for something else. It was my wallpaper for several months back in 2006. It's a group of Nepalese kids celebrating the fact that they had taken their business to the streets and finally got the king to re-establish the parliament in their country.
Their infectious joy — plus the idea that Sprite and Bob Marley had made it to the Himalayas — made me smile every time I looked at them, and they still make me smile, and I want to get a picture of Florida kids that will make me smile the same way.
Which isn't gonna come out of any Oval Office puppet show.
The other pic was this one, snapped by AP Photographer Carolyn Kaster, showing the cheat sheet Dear Leader carried into the meeting because the poor sap is too socially inept and insecure to know how to show interest and empathy on his own.
How socially inept and insecure?
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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