our lives will go on...

I jokingly asked X over the weekend when we were due for our next long weekend gambling and show time foray to Vegas. I told her that the new Bette Midler show would probably be entertaining; no doubt better than the over-my-dead-body Celine Dion show – all that chest thumping, miracle toddler, and love of my life stuff that she no doubt blathers endlessly about. X quickly concurred that Midler is probably the better entertainer, but suddenly her brow furrowed and she looked at me with fear in her eyes. “Where’s Celine Dion? If she’s not securely locked down in Vegas, like I thought she was, then she’s on the loose, somewhere out there...loose!” she screamed. “Sure enough” I tell her, “she’s even scheduled to bring her schlep to D.C.’s Verizon Center later this year.” There’s something to be said for knowing exactly where the overbearing and talent-challenged are encamped.

This idea was reinforced while we again watched Eddie Izzard’s Dress to Kill last night and his little ramble on Pol Pot and house arrest:

“So I suppose we're glad that Pol Pot's under house arrest… you know, 1.7 million people. At least he - we know where he is - under house arrest! Just don't go in that fucking house, you know? I know a lot of people who'd love to be under house arrest! They bring you your food… ‘Just stay here? Oh, all right. (singing laconically ) Have you got any videos?’ You know, you just sit there all day... And Pol Pot was a history teacher. And Hitler was a vegetarian painter. So... mass-murderers come from the areas you least expect it. I don't know how the flip comes over, but it happens.”

Editorial comment: I am in no way comparing Celine Dion to Pol Pot. I’m merely laughing at the lockdown in Vegas and house arrest ideas to keep those we like kept away from the innocents.