I had a business meeting today in the city of San Francisco.
I chose a place deliberately away from all of those people playing the Flame Game.
On my way back down Van Ness, I was suddenly accosted by the sight of two hundred (smiling) policemen.
I turned left and found myself following the torchfight procession.
Hold on, I thought. These people weren’t supposed to be here. They were supposed to be at the Embarcadero, spoiling for a broiling.
It was then that I appreciated that many issues can be avoided.
Which is why I will search in vain today to discover whether John McCain, Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama have strong feelings about the Olympic Torch being paraded around San Francisco on its way to Beijing.
But I will have to work very hard to avoid their need to juxtapose themselves with the subjects of many of my last, most illuminating posts- the epiglottal executioners of American Idol.
Tibetan protesters are, after all, fringers not singers.
No water cooler gathering, no sweaty bus ride, no carpooling atmosphere of clay will be broken by talk of whether the Dalai Lama is in imminent danger.
But the imminent danger posed to the insouciant torturer of one of the world’s most respected Queens?
No, not Prince Charles. Carly Smithson. The woman who made “The Show Must Go On” sound like the Chinese Army’s Abu Ghraibesque Chant of Doom.
We will all be caring about Carly’s prospects. For, oh, days to come.
As for the Tibetans. Well, how have they entertained us lately?
So the candidates will go to where the Idols Give Back. In the audacious hope of getting rather than giving.
I will now reach for my Nietzsche while listening to the new Elliot Yamin album.
In memory of his recently deceased Mom, you understand.
The Pond thanks lisatozzi for voting with her eyes.