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crazy woman in a white dress
Friday, July 19 2002
The problem with moral high horsery is that the sin about which someone chooses to be morally indignant is usually one in which he or she covertly most wishes to engage. It's been frequently asserted that repressed homosexuals make for the worst kind of homophobes and that reformed cocaine addicts are least likely to call for rethinking America's hopelessly ineffective drug war. And as for Miss Teen Texas, I'd like to bend her over my knee and give her a good old-fashioned spanking. To my mind she perfectly encapsulates all the things wrong with Texas. If that state wasn't part of the United States it would be as screwed up as Pakistan (complete with lone star nukes).
I'm sort of a news junky these days, especially with the falling Dow and various chickens coming home to roost for the forces of consolidation and totalitarianism. I took similar joy from the collapse of the dotcom bubble economy (even though I was a direct beneficiary of it). There is nothing so delicious as seeing arrogrant pricks get their comeuppance. Back during the dotcom collapse a favorite site of mine was Fuckedcompany.com. Tonight I was thinking, shit, is there a Fuckedcountry.com? If not, I want it! But no, there is. It even has the same red-on-black color scheme.
Tonight as Sally and I were returning from our midnight walk in the park (it was actually about 1:00am), we came upon a woman in a straw hat and white dress who was out walking her two obnoxious little white terriers. The woman was in her 40s, physically attractive, extremely physically fit, and looked as if she came from one of the snooty upscale residences along Prospect Park West, perhaps the building where Senator Charles Schumer lives. Anyway, following an altercation between our dogs, the woman got to talking to me and it was soon obvious that she was completely insane, though the insanity might well have only been temporary. Another possible explanation for her behavior might have been that she was pathologically lonely, not an uncommon condition at this hour on a Friday night. After only three or four sentences she was telling me her whole life story, including the sorry state of her stock market portfolio. Her big beef of the moment was with another woman dog walker she'd just encountered on the street, someone with two Rottweilers who had been very nasty and had allegedly blocked the sidewalk and shouted obscenities. It turned out that the person she was talking about was someone named Joyce whom I frequently encounter in the Vale of Cashmere. Joyce is a little strange and can be abrupt to strangers, but we say hello to each other and she knows Sally by name. Anyway, Joyce had doubled back and was coming our way and the crazy woman in the white dress exclaimed, "Oh, that's her! Here she comes!" By this point I was trying to extricate myself from the conversation, so I waved sheepishly at Joyce and continued down President Street to my place. The woman in the white dress followed me all the way there and continued talking to me as I unlocked the door and disappeared inside.
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