Mom and Apple Pie

Wrote really, really well this weekend. Shocked the hell out of myself too. It was such a strange, disjointed weekend – conflicting emotions over a war going badly: the weekly Body Count on the six o'clock news, of course, is what finally brought The War In Vietnam to its series close. But I don't want to see people die.

Pointless to debate whether things would be different if Gore was in office. But Gore was actually in Vietnam while Bush was off dodging the National Guard, and there's more to believing than seeing – any bozo with a remote control can flick on the tube and see The War – no, to really comprehend the reality of an experience, you have to be able to smell it. And to smell it, you have to be there.

Gore, at least, knew what war smells like. Dubya only knows what war looks like – and like to so many other Americans, it's images on a TV screen hooked up to a joystick. Pop! Pop!

Lots of drunken DLI kids doing the Franklin Street stroll late at night. I briefly had another idea for a money-generating scam. I could hang this sign on my VDub: "Taxi ride to the Greyhound Bus Station: $4. Greyhound Bus Ticket to Canada: $89. Political Asylum: Priceless."

But I suppose that would be in excrecable taste.

In other Big News, Robin stopped calling me "Mommy" this weekend. I am – now and forever more – officially "Mom."