Jacky Jormp-Jormp

A lot has happened since I've last written in this infernal blog - I was named Joseph Stalin on a Facebook quiz, Colleen told me a few bad things about cake, and I've taken up some former activities that I lost track of over some time. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed the soft, glossy white and black keys of that Steinway in the basement of the Music Building, and I hope it hasn't forgotten my sensuous touch. But before I become too mawkish, or Churchillian, if you will, I have to admit: I have a lot to catch up on. My poor violin is sitting all on its lonesome in the corner, waiting to be tuned and then inevitably fixed when I tighten the E string far too much. I wonder if I even remember how to play...or even knew how to play for that matter.

More importantly, promising things are in store for the near future. While everything else might've gone to pot, Jess and I will once again embark on another trip, this time to the small state of Rhode Island. Recently, Jess was nominated for one of her films and was invited to an event where she could possibly when an award. Sweet stuff, but aside from the possibility of a prize, which I will undoubtedly try to take claim for, the speaker is none other than Jack Nicholson. How's that to lift the damper on your week? Well, mine, but still, I'm psyched. Time to prepare some questions, which I've listed below:

"Mr. Nicholson, I would like to have sex with you."

"Jack, (assuming the first question has broken the ice a little), I can't help but notice you have the most insane eyebrows, and my 6-year-old cousin is terrified of you. I think that's hilarious."

"Jack, what're you doing after the show?"

"Jackie Boy, (assuming I haven't been thrown out yet) I saw that movie, The Departed and the Batman one where you're the joker. They were awesome."

"I have a screenplay for you to read, but I'm terrified to hand it to you because I think your hands are made of rubber and your gigantic receding hairline is threatening to me. What's your e-mail?"

The questions certainly need some work, but I've called Mr. Nicholson to ask some pre-questions so it's not too awkward during the banquet - I don't want everyone else to be jealous of our personal relationship. Sure, he hasn't called me back, but hopefully he'll get to one of the 10 voice mails I left him. Just hope he doesn't listen to the last one - I got a little upset when he didn't pick up and threatened to maim his wife.

On the other hand, while this week has improved by this promising event, my man Obama isn't cutting it with me lately like he should be. I have expectations, Mr. O., and one of them is not pouting and refusing to join the Geneva UN conference to address the issue of racism. I mean, I don't want to be the first to say it, B, but uh...have you looked in the mirror lately? Here, in fact, I'll post a picture for you:

Oh God! No! No! I have no idea where this came from, but that is just not the right color tie for you. In all seriousness, though, it's been quite a victory for the oppressed or once-oppressed everywhere to have elected the 44th a black president. Now, yes, we remember what happened at the last conference - pie throwing between the Israelis and the Palestinians and a nasty temper tantrum leading to a storm out by our big neighbor, Canada. Hell, I'm surprised they even went. (Sorry, low blow, Heather - I love Canada!*) But are these really legitimate reasons for not attending this year? I believe now it is more important than ever to join in on these talks - yes, in a way, to maintain the role of the United States in the global struggle for domination - but more so because it's the right thing to do. Spike Lee will tell you that. And boy, do I hate Spike Lee. I don't know though, B: I'm just a little more than upset with you. Send in Michelle. She's a tiger and she will rip through the curtain of hate and racism with her ferocious foreign policy-like claws.

*I do not love Canada

This last thing, I have no words for. Just watch: