Friday
I keep thinking about our man, Barack Obama, and especially about
his promises in 2008. There have been many Presidents. But has any
President ever had a wider gulf between what he promised he would
do and what he actually did or did not do?
What if, at his momentous moment at Grant Park in Chicago on the
night of his win, he had said this speech:
“Now, friends, thank you for electing me. To tell you the truth,
I am a good speaker as long as I have a prompter in front of me.
But I have absolutely no clue at all as to how to get us out of
this recession. None at all. I will, however, spend the money of
the people who pay taxes to give out a lot of money to people who
are either union members or do not pay taxes. I will spend a
trillion dollars in a year and I have no idea of what, if any good
it will do.
“I’ll also get my captive Congress, led by the most pitifully
weak Speaker ever, and a man who gives the word ‘party hack’ a bad
name, to pass a health care bill that will dramatically raise
taxes, cut Medicare payments, cram patients into doctors’ offices,
create complete chaos — and I will do it in the dead of night
without even showing the Republicans what’s in the bill. I won’t
show anyone else either! That’s the gag! We’ll be passing a bill
that will cost trillions and NO ONE will know what’s in it! NOT
EVEN ME!!!! “They didn’t call me ‘Good time Barry’ at Punahou for
nothing!
“Plus, you know how we have only one reliable ally in the whole
world, and that’s Israel, probably the most militarily significant
power after us, Russia, and China? Yes, the Israel that’s the only
democracy in the Middle East, where Arabs have more rights than
they do in any Arab country? We’re going to take that country’s
premier and HUMILIATE the SOB right outside my office, make him
cool his heels like a job seeker at a union hall and then I’ll tell
him what a loser he is!
“That’s how I’ll show my Jewish friends what I think about
Israel.
“Then, Britain? That ‘special relationship’ country? I’ll
humiliate them, too. I think I’ll just hug the Queen like she’s my
Mom. Then when they give me a magnificent gift, I’ll give them a CD
of my speeches — in a plastic box.
“And the deficit? I’ll double it in three and a half years. With
nothing to show for it.
“Plus, if we find Osama bin Laden, I think I’ll have the SEALs
take all of the risks and then I’ll go on TV and pretend I did it
all myself.
“Plus, did you see about those thugs who threatened anyone who
didn’t vote for me at some polling place somewhere? I am not going
to prosecute them at all. Not one bit. Not even for a second! What
are friends for?
“Well, anyway, it’s late, so let’s PARTAY HEARTAY!”
He didn’t give that speech. Too bad.
Saturday
Now, this has been a difficult
day. I have some kind of deep fatigue, probably from travel. I
spent most of the day in bed in my office with my Julie Goodgirl
next to me. I just listened to a Mozart disc over and over again.
Piano concertos. Just great magical stuff. How can anyone be that
brilliant?
Then, I worked on my endless filing of material for my income
tax. I looked at checks (cancelled checks). As always, they make me
sick because I make myself sick with my extravagance. It is just a
miracle that I am not destitute. However, I have been thinking that
I will soon be destitute for decades so maybe something is wrong
with my thinking. Or maybe God always saves me, so far.
My son and his staggeringly beautiful wife and our stunning
little granddaughter, the Coco Puff, came over. Kitty, the
daughter-in-law, helped my wife to file. That was a completely
wasted exercise since I will never look at the files, as I told
them both, but I guess it made my wife feel good to do it.
Our son watched TV. He is super good at that.
Then my wife went out to supper with an old pal, all the way to
Topanga, about thirty miles away.
An iron rule: stupid people choose restaurants very far away
from where you and/or they live. Obviously, my wife, a smart woman,
did not make the choice.
(I have a lot of iron rules and laws. Most have to do with
facial jewelry and I.Q. Some have to do with eating habits.)
I rested for a while, then went out to a meager supper at a Thai
place on Sunset Strip. I could see the rock fans coming and going
on the sidewalk outside my seat. (“In the room the women come and
go and talk of Michelangelo….” and also how to gas the Jews, T.S.
Eliot, you pretentious scumbag racist fraud two bit con man.)
It interests me how much variety there is among the women
passing by. Some are shapely and beautiful. Some are not. The
physical actions of the non-beautiful are invariably, and I mean
INVARIABLY, about ten times as animated as the serene motions of
the beautiful. Beautiful women know they are beautiful and have a
certain calm about them. The non-beautiful have to fake a twisted
enthusiasm. The difference in world outlook between these two types
of human beings — ceteris paribus — is fantastic.
The restaurant was almost deserted until a middle-aged couple
deposited by a Range Rover came in. I am guessing it was an
internet J-Date blind date. The woman, I would say in her late 30s,
had a simply maddeningly sharp, high pitched voice. She almost
immediately began to lecture this poor man on his eating habits,
about how he should never take any medicine but must instead eat
raw fruits and vegetables from Whole Foods. When he talked about
eating bread, she became literally hysterical. “You eat BREAD?” she
demanded. “That has GLUTEN. I never eat bread. Not pasta either
unless it’s gluten free.”
If I were that man, I told my companion, I would just get up and
leave the table.
The woman was actually fairly attractive except for being
emaciated. But her voice rang of insanity. Her hectoring him about
his eating habits.… That’s criminal.
Well, small wonder she’s single. It’s hard to be single at her
age and she bought it and paid for it with her nuttiness. Iron law:
those who seek to control other persons’ eating habits end up
alone. IRON LAW!!!! Well, wait. There was my mother….
When I got home, my wifey was already home. I was so happy to
see her I can barely tell you. She is as close to perfect as a
being can be. I’m not. I’m not at all. She never tells me what to
do. Never.
We watched a documentary about the Nazis, as usual, and then we
went to sleep. I was up most of the night from my Thai food. But I
used the time to begin an amazingly informative book by a scholar
named Jean Sedlar about the Nazi Empire in East Central Europe.
This astonishingly gifted scholar is the late mother of my dear
friend, Eric Sedlar, a software genius at Oracle. He is the very
pained widower of the beautiful Tatyana, who died on roughly July
4. What a smart family they are. How he has suffered. Heart
rending.
Sunday
More fatigue. I awakened and felt
as if I had been hit on the head by a sledge hammer. But I dragged
my fat old ponderous bulk out of the bed and, with Julie Goodgirl
by my side, swam in our pool. The way it works is that I throw a
ball for her. She runs after it and catches it and brings it to
where I am in the pool. I throw it again and resume swimming until
she gets it to me again. Then throw, retrieve, swim, throw again.
That’s how it works.
I clambered out, showered, shaved, dressed, went off to the
Santa Palm Car Wash to meet my pal M. It is a ritual. We get a car
wash and a sandwich and watch the people go by.
M. was once a high official at a major studio. He was
incredibly, unbelievably kind to me. He often bought stories from
me and helped keep me afloat. His late wife, also M., was a dear
and generous friend. Much of my life in Hollywood happened because
of M. He put me in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and helped me
sell the book, ‘Ludes as a movie. He was as kind as can
be.
Time passed. He retired. His wife passed away from just plain
exhaustion. Now, he’s living a modest life, mostly walking his
dogs. He is an amazingly handsome man, even at 65, and still razor
sharp. He made two giant mistakes: He did not save enough when he
had a good income and he did not tell his wife how much he loved
her anywhere near enough.
He is still a truly great guy and I love him a lot. He is a dear
man.
I met him through a man named Steve Greene, who had an enormous
impact on my life, all for the good. Now, he’s far away in Florida
and I miss him.
I spend a lot of time thinking of friends who are gone. For some
reason, I think constantly of the stupendously talented John
Gregory Dunne. He was a simply incredibly gifted writer, married to
an equally great talent, Joan Didion.
When I first moved here, 36 years ago, John and Joan were
devoted, helpful pals. They just showered me with attention and
kindness. I worshiped them then and still do even though John
passed away some years ago. John was an old school type, always
needling me about being Jewish, but also had almost all Jewish
friends. I recall our lunches together at the Palm, when he would
tell me about his triumphs and I would wring my hands in envy. What
a waste of time that was.
But what a fantastically kind couple they were to me and to my
wife. He was just a shining star in my life.
Well, anyway….
I came away from the car wash and went to the Pavilions grocery
store. My wife had wanted me to buy some Diet Snapple for her. She
loves that stuff. I moseyed around the store looking for it. I saw
two astoundingly beautiful young women shopping. Both were surely
actresses. They had perfect posture. They were just super humanly
beautiful. Exactly right features. Goddesses.
In the checkout line, my poor pitiful brain, no doubt
overwhelmed by the prospect of eating an immense apple pie I had
just bought, made me drop a six pack of Snapple on the floor. It
shattered, tossing glass and Snapple all around.
Embarrassing. But to shift the blame a bit, the packaging of
Diet Snapple could hardly be worse. (Possibly on purpose, by some
sadist on Madison Avenue?) It is almost impossible to pick up Diet
Snapple in its carrier. So, I’ll blame it on them.
I came home, unpacked, explained to my wife about why I only had
a dozen Diet Snapple, went to my bed and called my pal, B., one of
my closest pals. He is about to go to prison — yes, PRISON! —
because of allegations of fraud. A state prison! He’s 57 and not
strong. He told me he spent the day at prayer at a predominantly
black church, even though he is white. He said he’s turned it all
over to God. But he’s terrified and I am terrified for him. He is a
saintly man. How can he be cast in that lions’ den?
Like M., he made some big mistakes. Mainly, he did not save
enough in the good times. This is a problem I often worry about in
my own life.
We humans do not anticipate adversity sufficiently. This is a
huge failing. We have to do better at it.
If we don’t, we have to pay the price. The price can be
immiseration or it can be prison.
It is cruel how unprepared we humans are for our fates.
I got a series of texts from a lovely middle-aged woman who is
worried to death about money. In total terror. How did she spend
the day? Getting a manicure and a pedicure and then shopping at a
shopping center. I am not kidding.
I got a million texts from my pal J., who is also terrified
about money. She spent the day helping her 87-year-old mother, WHO
SURVIVED TWO YEARS OF SLAVE LABOR AT SIEMENS AND TWO MORE AT
AUSCHWITZ!!!!, pick out new carpeting. The mother is having her
house remodeled. That’s the spirit that got her through Auschwitz.
God bless her.
The rest of us are doomed. Except for Alex and Julie
Goodgirl.
