The Day is Coming

Gerry's Corner: First of all, I must tell you that 'The Colbert Report' this evening is really top-notch. Right now, as I'm watching, Colbert is doing a 'Cooking with Feminists' segment, in which he cooks and chit-chats with Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem. He and Fonda have already kissed twice. On the mouth. Not-Betty is conflicted about whether this is helpful or ruinous for women's liberation. I say those ladies should take off their bras and burn them in order for more liberation to happen. Ooo - three kisses from Fonda and now one from the steel-lipped Steinem. That was the most perfect moment of television I have ever seen.

Okay, back to business. Over the weekend, some agents from the Ford School came and took all the pictures of me we had in our possession so they could hang them in a gallery wing of the new building. I'm told that the tribute museum to my honor takes up one-third of the school, and I'm excited to see it for myself. Unfortunately, the walls of our home are now bare after the Ford School's raid.

Last night, I went out to see 'Half Nelson' with Gunner?; he needed a break from the law school, where he's constantly being sued and tried by his classmates (it's part of the social culture; some groups do karaoke or play pinochle, but the lawyers do law things all the time, 24/7). Anyway. 'Half Nelson' is a movie, not about wrestling, but about a teacher in the inner-city. First of all, that man had the most attentive seventh-grade class in the history of public education. The only discipline he had to administer in the entire movie was to send a kid to the corner for peeking at another student's test. The class wasn't overcrowded, his girls' basketball team was respectful, and he seemed to have a lot of autonomy (one teacher reprimanded him once about not teaching from the Civil Rights Binder). Yet he still had to do crack, and often. I can only imagine that the way the script was originally written, as some sort of remake of 'Stand and Deliver,' there was no crack involved. It was, instead, supposed to be a heartwarming, galvanizing story of children rising up from beyond their means to succeed, succeed, succeed. Unfortunately, with Hollywood as sick as it is these days, there was not an actor available without a severe addiction to crack. They had to work his hits and shoot-ups into several scenes so that he could make it through the day. The saddest thing is that I should be astonished, but I'm not anymore. I'm just not.

That's enough for today. I'm off to bed, dreaming of a few days from now, when I'll finally be able to sucker-punch Sanford Weill. (I hope he doesn't read my blog! Actually, I bet he's functionally illiterate, so my secret punch is still going to be a surprise to him! Unless he's got a friend who reads this blog and warns him that Gerry's right fist is coming for his face. Wait, but that guy can't have any friends. The plan is still on!)

There is no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe,
Gerry