The Urban Elf

The Democratic Presidential Primary is now finally under way after a year of needless posturing that left many voters bored and bitter well before the first polls opened. Yet now, less than a week before “Super Tuesday” when Democratic voters will at last have a chance to impact the decision making process in real numbers and with delegates that will truly count a rumor is circulating in the news media that John Edwards is backing out of the race. This would leave only two major candidates from which to choose when voters in 22 states walk into the booth next week. If Mr. Edwards is indeed declining the field at this early stage of the actual selection process I must ask why? By removing himself from the debate he sacrifices a key opportunity to keep some of the issues with which he is particularly identified alive and active in that debate. He may not foresee winning, but his poll numbers in the upcoming electoral-palooza would be a significant indicator of how important some of his old school blue-collared liberalism stances are to the party at large and bolster their chances of inclusion in the platform eventually hammered out come convention time. In the face of this I can’t help but wonder… Is he trying to force the two horse race of Hillary and Barack to become a bitter game of Rock’em Sock’em Robots in an attempt to so alienate them from each other in the public eye that neither as eventual winner can believably ask the other to take the second chair on the ticket in November leaving the grinning former senator as the only logical choice for Vice President?

Inquiring minds want to know.

In response to a recent plea for absurdist carrying-on I dashed this off. Kind of a Train on the lawn with cubic zirconia thing.

Down the Rabbit Hole - a pop song

She danced like a tree with stars in its hair
Spun around `til she wasn't there
Unlashed myself from the old May pole
And followed down the rabbit hole
Found a place where I could see
Jackals smoking carrot greens
Suddenly it occured to me
Why kobolds only drink ice tea
And nothing there reminded me
Of cremation or of alchemy
This is how it had to be
You see
You see

Crisco streaks across the sky
Pilot whales spit in my eye
Fear is why I used to lie
I used to lie I used to lie

He sang a song like badgers crying
I thought my body paint was drying
But then I heard it wasn't so
My snow cone was still well aglow
And no one let the sun go cold
Though paper plates had now grown old
And roosters proved to be too shallow
Though microchips still are hallowed
The fundamental trick they show
Only down the rabbit hole
This is how it had to be
You see
Are you me

Crisco streaks across the sky
Pilot whales spit in my eye
Fear is why I used to lie
I used to lie I used to lie
Grease me up into the sky
Pretty please spit in my eye
Fear is why I used to lie
I used to lie I used to lie
Crisco streaks across the sky
Pilot whales spit in my eye
Fear is why I used to lie
I used to lie I used to lie

Where to begin? That’s one of the problems with doing a “How I Spent My Con” wrap-up, especially for Arisia, so much happens and then by the time you’ve survived it all you find yourself tired muddled and most unfortunately sober. Here is the first of a few of my memorable moments and themes… some good, some not so good, some nearly traumatizing.

Skank, Frank and Infamy

We, the Tea Party, the Giant Squid Party and the harborers of the Intercon Party were in suite 832 (pirate flags, white x-mas lights and space field banner) our next door neighbors were the Skank Party… League of Extraordinary Skanks this year I believe. I had not yet realized this when early on Saturday I found myself in the elevator standing next to the mythically hot bartender of many a Skank Party sporting a badge which read “McLovin” (Ah… if only. I know this is a Superbad reference, but I couldn’t help but briefly imagine hot greasy drive-thru sex complete with special sauce… now that’s my kind of Happy Meal.) but I digress, as soon as the gentleman in question stepped off the elevator I resumed breathing and smacked my friend in the arm. “That was him. That was the hot bartender!” I hoarsely whispered. In return I received one of those looks reserved for earnest ten year-old anime fans, Delta Dawn or perhaps Charlotte from Sex in the City. Little did I know this was foreshadowing.

That evening, in the sprayed-on jeans, chest hair ahoy, leather boots vest and gauntlets all arranged into some semblance of a hoochie pirate costume, I took advantage of the redundancy of hosts at our party and went off to check out the competition starting with the neighbors. Gaining entrance this year did not require toe touches and package adjustment as it had the previous year. This time I was waved right in. As usual the music was good and I danced a bit, but vanity and fashion of the prior evening had taken a toll (“Didi, can you pleeeeeeeeze meet me on the 4th floor with my cane?”) only nearly forgotten thanks to the Hollywood helpmate of liquor and pills. Since I was already liquored up and the local delicacy was not in evidence at that juncture it was time to sample another soiree.

Miss D, Rabbi Ben Wahburn and I went roaming, but after not too long drifted back to base. Along the way we ha stopped into the Smokers’ Lounge and I promised to take over from Becky (Minion Prime) for an hour or so at midnight so that she could party hop. Rational in this case: She has authority to close at midnight, anything that the people get beyond that is gravy. I had hoped to run into Pete (Evil) so that he could sign off on my earlier hours in the lounge, but he was not in evidence. At 1:15 I closed and returned to the madness of Homosexuality vs Giant Squid. I found there was still much laughter and chaos in 832. Stepping back out into the hallway I spotted Pete (Evil) chatting with the Skank Party’s siren/gatekeepers. When he finished the first part of the tale of his first Skank Party (it is always a memorable thing) I began to tell mine.

“WAIT! You’re Robdamnit??? You’re the blogger who wrote about Frank! Oh my god! This is the guy! You were writing about the hot bartender and I thought you meant me and then about halfway through you mentioned the hat and I went ‘Wait a minute, he’s talking about FRANK!’ Come inside, come inside!” Or something to that effect.

I was summarily dragged inside the party by the exclaiming, tall stunning corseted blonde (kindling a great deal of envy among the male witnesses and feeding me an extra dose Arisia’s special blend of sexual irony) and dragging me before… Frank, who had now returned to his place behind the bar. Neither one of us was thrilled. Although I have to admit that I found the whole thing rather amusing if uncomfortable, and between the whiskey and the small thrill at my niche internet fame I was certainly taking it better than himself. Who managed mostly not to scowl at his drunken and now giddy assemblage of comrades who thought this was the funniest thing since they put nipples on Batman. The running theory was that Frank had died and gone to hell and Lucifer in typical fashion had outsourced his management responsibilities to Frank’s gay friend Mr. McFeelyhands. Since the bartender now wore the expression of a deer in the headlights plotting its bloody revenge on the entire auto industry the drinks temporarily stopped flowing. As I had by this point drained the last of my Irish Xanax I laughed and nodded my way out and then dashed back to my bottle.

It is only fair to mention that the blonde siren stopped by our room Monday morning as we were all awaiting the promised baggage carts that had suddenly become as rare and elusive as gay midget porn and unnecessarily apologized to me. It was all in good fun… at least as far as I’m concerned… Frank may have a different opinion.

Standing count at this point in the con: 0 for 2 Both mentioned above and both historically established technical shut-outs. I may tell you about the third loss of the series in a follow-up post. I may not.

• edited and reposted from lj

Labels: Arisia, Skank Party