What I did over my Christmas and New Year’s vacation.
Monday — January 3,
What I did over my Christmas and New Year’s vacation:
I drove down to Rancho Mirage from Beverly Hills with my fwife, threef German Short-haired Pointers, and a Maltese. We ran into heavy traffic, stopped for food, ran into more traffic, got to our house. I swam under the stars. My wife watched a literally endless series of reruns of her favorite two shows, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and NCIS.
The latter always reminds me that I repeatedly pitched a series about criminal investigators within the Navy about twenty-five or thirty years ago when I was in the TV production game. Of course, it never got picked up.
My pal Al Burton and I also pitched to a big Silicon Valley law firm a yearbook that would be online and where you could list all your pals and you could stay in touch online. The man we talked to at the law firm raved about what a great idea it was but we never heard from him again. I would guess there are about ten million Americans who have similar tales of woe. Success goes to those who actually work at something and complete it, not to those who just have an idea.
By the way, this reminds me that I really miss working as a part of a team. I really only felt I did it a few times in my life. The best time by far was at the Nixon White House under the capable leadership of Dave Gergen, with the brilliant John Coyne and Aram Bakshian teaching me the ropes. The second best time was at the Yale Law School Film Society. Wow, we had fun renting movies and showing them at Yale, and bringing in Jean-Luc Godard (who turns out apparently to be a big anti-Semite, so I read), and Russ Meyer, and Abe Polonski (I may have that name spelled wrong ), and the man who directed It Happened One Night, now, what was his name?? The best part of that was going around the campus at Yale putting up flyers. I did that with my pal Peter Presto Broderick and we talked about movies the whole time. I was thin and hip and I would flirt with the girls I met even though I had the most beautiful girl at Yale as my wife (she’s still my wife). It seemed to me that those days would never end, but they did. Anyway, I miss being part of a team.
I guess I am part of The American Spectator Team and The NewsMax Team and the Fox News Team and the CNN Team and the most gilded part of my life, the Tiffany Network CBS Sunday Morning Team. But it’s not the same as walking around Yale in the New England autumn.
Then there was another team: my dear genius pals Arthur Best and Gale Miller and I doing litigation at the FTC. They were and are great guys and super duper smart. But that was hard, drudge work with yucky deadlines and much better lawyers than I was on the other side. We lost our big case and I learned that litigation is not for me.
Well, the guys who made Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed, I guess, were a team. But on that one road we traveled we are shattered or split. Oh, and of course, I am always grateful for being part of the Ferris Bueller Team and the mighty Win Ben Stein’s Money Team and The Wonder Years Team.
Actually, now that I think of it, my wife and I are a team, too. That’s the best team. She’s my partner, as her Big Daddy grandfather used to say about her back in Idabel. Well, anyway, I miss Yale back in the day. I miss being young and part of a team. I guess I like being on TV the most, though. Enough maundering.
The next morning, I swam again, and then went off to my beloved 12-step meeting. Words cannot convey how much I love that meeting. I love the humility, the sharing, the fellowship, the connection with God, the way we laugh at our own weaknesses. If I could afford to do it, I would stay in 12-step meetings all day until I had to go home and go to sleep.
Then, wandering around a shopping center. Then, wandering around Saks Fifth Avenue, where I bought my wife some of her many Christmas gifts. Then, back to our house to have a late lunch.
We ate at the clubhouse at Morningside, CC, the club where we belong. It is a great place and the cheeseburgers are extraordinary. Truly great. From where we sit, we usually can see golfers coming in from their 18 holes. However, today it’s raining.
Then, home for a nap. I always nap on my back listening to Mozart’s Requiem and a small snippet of the Laudate Dominum and about fifteen minutes of Exultate Jubilate. I fall into such a deep sleep I forget where I am or even who I am.
Then, off to my pitiful computer to work on my new book. It’s a SECRET what it’s about. No, it’s not a secret. It’s about how I would handle various situations. It’s sort of funny and also helpful, I hope.
Then, off to dinner at Pacifica, a great restaurant in Palm Desert. The rain had stopped and we ate outside under heat lamps, looking at the snow peaked mountains lit by the moon.
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
The debacle of this president’s administration is both a cause and a symptom of the decline of American values. Unless Congress impeaches him, that decline will go on unchecked. An eminent jurist surveys the damage and assesses the chances for the recovery of our culture.
It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
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