Which is harder to believe? The ludicrous shenanigans going down in Washington or the fact that nobody seems particularly interested in doing anything about them? Good neighbors — it looks like we got ourselves one heck of a bumper crop of official dysfunction this year. Near as high as Manute Bol‘s eye.
You’d think with national parks closed, veteran’s benefits being withheld and a possible catastrophic debt ceiling crisis looming, folks would be atwitter like chicken inspectors on a rotisserie spit during a power surge. And you’d be as wrong as a Bergman film on Comedy Central.
What the country seems to be seeking here is a little something called political responsibility. Which, in these dark days, is a wee bit of a tad of a total and complete oxymoron. Real similar to saying Fukushima sushi. Or elegant squalor. Comfortable rock.
Driving the point home: Weird normality. Spherical edge. Iron kite. Freedom shackle. Fresh detritus. Flammable sleet. Placid hammer. Colossal shrimp. Diminutive giant. Formal jeans. Sensitive linebacker. Salable autonomy. Veteran rookie. Vegetarian butcher. Pork tartare. Reality TV.
Keeping it real: Precarious certainty. Serene devastation. Bitter honey. Catholic condom. Heaven’s basement. Gelatinous needle. Sadistic lover. Banker’s compassion. Macabre solace. Chaste indiscretion. Temporary tax. Restorative annihilation. Healthy fries. Unhungry shark.
Taking it to the streets: San Francisco barbecue. Milwaukee modernity. Jersey nuance. Arizona mist. Los Angeles demure. Canadian innovation. Hawaiian urgency. Wyoming bouillabaisse. Utah jazz.
Ramping it up: Mandated choice. Balding hottie. Warranted wager. Terminal approach. Relaxing discomfiture. Killer dream. Exceptional banality. Underground satellite. Trendily baroque. Crystal ladder. Turbulent stillness. Frightening comfort. Gossamer fence. Environmental oilman. Amish website. Carnival cruise.
Airing it out: Whispering tank. Fortunate disaster. Frozen inferno. Iconoclastic tradition. Disposable resource. Panoramic void. Docile outburst. Gleeful shame. Submarine screen door. Joint account. Apathetic detestation. Twisty arrow. Behemoth slice. Absentminded surgery. Tasty tofu. Clean coal. Aerobic couch. Marijuana initiative.
Running a bad metaphor into the ground like a Western Union pony after a third consecutive ride owing to a suspicious stable fire: Bustling furlough. Ingenue hag. Muzzled microphone. Bouncy spike. Chaotic seclusion. Meager extreme. Critical frivolity. Irrevocable contingency. Distinct oblivion. Collateral damage. Identical mutation. Blistering salve. Creepy rhapsody. Kamikaze reunion. Drowsy lightning. Garlic mouthwash. Nixonian charm. Understanding spouse.
Bringing it back home: Anarchist commander. Restrained oligarchy. Accountable economist. Municipal management. Sympathetic bureaucrat. Incumbent incumbent. Culpable legislator. Religious tolerance. Limited warfare. Guest worker. Creationist science. Guaranteed pension. Tea Party logic. Obamic strategy. Boehner endgame. Fox News.
Will Durst’s new one-man show, “Boomeraging: From LSD to OMG,” at The Town Hall in Reno, Nev., North Lake Tahoe, Calif., and Nevada City, Calif. all this week. Townhalltheatre.com. And/or only eight more Tuesdays at The Marsh, San Francisco. Go to… themarsh.org for more info. Or willdurst.com. Use code “boomer” for $10 tix.
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