I don't know if I would like to be anyone other than myself these days. I am actually fairly happy with being, well, me. I am neither as tall nor good-looking as I thought I would be at this stage, but I've adjusted well—considering the circumstances.
So, until further notice, I'll just be myself: urbane, genteel, and debonair. (Okay, okay, I kid, but jest a little.) Until I consulted my third favourite book (see column, three weeks back), I thought those were different types of doughnuts. Thank the good Lord above for dictionaries. In the meantime, let's take a collective look (meaning: I write, you read) at a few characters making headlines these days—for all the wrong reasons.
The following are people that I wouldn't want to be for all the necklaces in Los Angeles, though I wouldn't mind access to their respective bank accounts and seaside villas.
President Mubarak of Egypt. No, I guess that would actually be "ex-President" Mubarak. The recent riots in Egypt, not to be confused with Calgary's Red Mile of many, many years ago, just goes to show you that if you scream loud and long enough, there's a good chance you'll get your own way. Hey, a million newborns prove that maxim everyday.
My own students may want to try this to get me out of the classroom, and I will go, so long as I can take the money and run.
Anyways, the ex-Pharaoh slunk out of town, possibly with a harem of mummies, along with his pyramid of Euros, money likely that had been designated to help the millions in his impoverished nation. On the one hand, I really wouldn't want that many people mad at me; but on the other hand, a few chariots of gold could easily soften the blow.
Next on my list is Lindsay Lohan. Let me summarize her life in one word: Mess. Big mess. Really big mess. (Maurice, my man, I can count to one, okay, so let me turn them into one word: Really-big-mess. Aren't hyphens grand?) Remember that sweet young thing in "Parent Trap"? No, not Hayley Mills; the other sweet young thing in the other "Parent Trap." Well, she morphed into a cute Hollywood zombie, to be sure. And now every time we read about her, she is either heading into rehab or sneaking out of rehab, blubbering in the courtroom or blubbering at a press conference. And now I read that she has taken a shine to free and expensive necklaces.
So many of these celebrities were once great young people, with promising careers. If you had any idea as to how utterly wasted their lives are—wallowing in the mudhole of sex, drugs, and blow-ups--you would shudder. Lohan is also part of that, a growing phenomenon of Hollywood's wanton ladies.
Lastly, Mario Lemieux. I watched him play the game, long before he was an owner. In fact, I remember when he was drafted. Now he's a bigshot owner, and more power to him. But he has recently sounded off about a recent "Hockey 'Fight' in Canada," where his Penguins lost two battles on two fronts: the scoresheet and the ring, er, rink. Fighting is part of hockey, though the debacle with the Islanders of a couple weeks ago was a ridiculous example of making the arena a war-zone. It adds another twist to the term, "killing penalties."
However, Lemieux's comments are really quite hollow, as his Penguins are leading the league in almost every penalty-related statistic. But the ugliest inconsistency here is that his team has arguably the dirtiest player in the league today, a Matt Cooke. (The same Matt Cooke, no less, that the Vancouver Canucks got rid of years ago.)
Needless to say, Mr. Lemieux has created a lot of animosity with his comments. They're not ill-timed, not all all; they're just ill-placed. If he was not the owner of a team of goons, then he would have the credibility to speak.
So, I have no idea where Mubarak is hiding, I think I know where Lohan is cooling her heels, and Lemieux has probably retreated back into the owner's booth. For me, I am quite content to lay low in my brave office for the time being.
I'll stay this way until further notice, enjoying all those urbane, genteel and debonair doughnuts.
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