The Rundown

By Allen David

Posted February 9, 2012 in News


Today is a fine-enough day, sunny and such, the first day of a month that will include both Valentine’s Day and Leap Year, oh boy. Yet days like these can sometimes strike us strangely—as though they somehow lack a bit of something, although not so much a thing as a mood, an absence of magical possibility—and leave us disenchanted. Perhaps today is such a day for you. Perhaps you are disenchanted. Yes? You can admit it. No judgment here. I’ll acknowledge that I am: I am somewhat disenchanted today. From time to time just about everyone becomes disenchanted, the exceptions being the people who live in the Enchanted Hills, whose kids go to Enchanted Hills Elementary—they’re pretty much always riding the enchantment tip, which can make me envious. But everybody else? Disenchantment is always in the cards, especially on a day like today—especially when a day like today falls on Wednesday which is Hump Day, right? So is that how you’re feeling? Disenchanted? Please trust me enough to share your answer. Please show me that much respect. Come on, because not saying anything is disrespectful. Disenchantment, hey, we all occasionally fall into that, and there’s nothing to be done about it. But being disrespectful, that’s totally on you. And I gotta say, it sucks. You suck. You suck!


Disenchanted? Not me! Not today! Today I am enchanted, thoroughly so, and not trifled by a thing—neither by how thoroughly someone sucks, nor by the envy I sometimes feel toward the people who live in Enchanted Hills. I’m fine with the fact some people will always suck and I’m even better with the fact that I will never again envy the people who live in Enchanted Hills. I found out a little bit about them. Do you know Enchanted Hills is a neighborhood in Perris? Yep. And do you know what the people of Enchanted Hills are feeling so enchanted about this week? A little workshop held at Enchanted Hills Elementary School, where representatives from the Eastern Municipal Water District (EMWD) workshop are signing them up so EMWD employees can come onto their property to disable existing septic tanks and hook their homes up to the sewer in the street. Septic tanks and sewers! En-freaking-chanting!


Come on, Super Bowl!


Ron Paul goes hiking along the Art Smith Trail, west of Big Horn Country Club, in the hills overlooking Palm Desert. At about 1 p.m. he is overcome by some kind of medical condition. Ron Paul is not breathing when Riverside County Fire Department arrive. They rush him to Eisenhower Medical Center. At 1:23 p.m., Ron Paul is pronounced dead. No, not that Ron Paul. This Ron Paul—according to Riverside County Coroner’s officials, anyway—is Ronald D. Paul, a 62-year-old resident of San Jacinto. Relieved it’s not the 78-year-old Texas congressman and Republican candidate for President? The family and friends of Ronald D. Paul’s family aren’t.


No matter how the FCC ultimately assesses the blame, it is Madonna’s halftime show at the Super Bowl that is responsible for bringing a very offensive image (the extended middle finger) into a very inappropriate place for it (living rooms filled with families, friends and children). Viewers simply cannot be blamed for reacting to the Immaterial Girl’s spiritless production by flipping off their televisions. Even one of the performers—rapper M.I.A.—eventually did it.


Today’s The Press-Enterprise reports that John Denver wants to shift the public-comments portion of Menifee City Council meetings—when speakers have three minutes to address the council on any topic they would like—from the beginning of the agenda to the end. It sounds outrageous, but the story ignites a brushfire of criticism against John Denver, most of it accusing him of repressing free speech. Anyone at all familiar with John Denver would recognize that there are many things he could be accused of—a posturing embrace of family values, an overreliance on cliché, a rather yowling singing voice—but repressive? The adjective most-often used to describe him is “irrepressible.” As might be expected, the story includes no quotes from John Denver. Reporter John F. Hill explains this away by writing that “Denver could not be reached Monday . . . ” He might have added “or any Monday since October of 1997,” when John Denver died by crashing his light plane into Monterey Bay.


Different John Denver, of course. I knew that.


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