Aug 08 2002
Ramones, Republicans, and Legal Age
When I passed the historic Fairmont Hotel at o’dark thirty yesterday morning (the Fairmont survived the ’06 quake and was used as the exterior for the hotel in the cheesy TV series “Hotel” before also surviving the ’89 quake), I noticed that there were a lot more news trucks, including one from CNN with a satellite dish, than usual, ditto cops, sitting outside. But I didn’t care enough to stop listening to the Ramones long enough to ask who was here.
Turns out it was Dick Cheney, and I can just hear fellow resident Robin Williams saying, à la “Good Morning Vietnam”, “The Big Dick is here! Get ready!” So I’m glad I didn’t forsake even a moment of Ramones to be informed of this, since in my opinion even a dead Ramone (and we are rapidly running out of live ones) is smarter and more articulate than a live Republican.
Today, however, is my one and only nephew Ben’s 18th birthday, which means that he can now legally do (in England, where he resides under protest until he can make a break for it and move to Canada) all the things he’s been doing all along. I really can’t understand why we in the US will allow people to get married and fight in wars at 18, but not permit these very same folks a glass of champagne at their wedding or on the eve of battle. Surely the commitment to one person for the rest of your life, or defending truth, justice and the American way by putting your ass on the line requires greater cognitive thought than whether you can drink red wine with fish*, and how much. We should pick an age – 18, 19, 21 – who cares? I’m past all of them so it doesn’t affect me – and go with it for all these things.
This has been a public service announcement. And Ben, happy birthday from the old and short. Love you!
*I say it depends on the fish and the wine.