California dreamin'

I have walked into some kind of unconventional classroom headed by Hugo Schwyzer. He seems annoyed that I have walked in late. And annoyed, perhaps, because he's never seen me before and suddenly I'm in his class.

They're all doing elaborate and painful-looking yoga poses. I don't join in, but instead gaze out the huge picture window into the California sunset, dipping into the massive Pacific.

I go outside and it's dark. I can hear the ocean, and even feel its presence, but it's so dark that I can't see it. I walk down the beach toward it, fearing the moment that I feel it overtake me. I know deep down that once I'm in, I can't get back out. I retreat to the beach, and then realize that it doesn't matter how far I retreat; the tide is climbing and the water will greet me anyway.

The operation

I am in a hospital, alone but surrounded by familiar people, and I am there to have an operation to fix ... something. I keep wondering why my parents or friends or someone isn't there with me. I'm called back but leave my bag in the front room, and have to request it once I get to the back waiting area. The nurses are skeptical that the bag is mine. They request ID with my name on it to match with any ID in the bag. They go to retrieve the bag but take so long that I suspect something bigger is happening.

I amuse myself by farting around in the back waiting area, where it's seemingly empty. On a counter nearby is a giant tub of multi-colored pills of all shapes and sizes, some as big as those nasty orange marshmallow peanut-shaped things my grandmother used to eat all the time. I chuckle to myself that I will be taking the bucket home with me after the surgery. In an instant I am trying to take a photo of the pill bucket for my daily picture. I'm worried that I'll get in trouble for photographing the giant, unprotected bucket of painkillers.

The the paparazzi show up. There are maybe eight of them, including a blonde reporter with a microphone and a dude with a giant light he sticks in my face. And big cameras they shove toward me. I sit down, sure that they're trying to humiliate me, and put my head down as far as possible, taking care to not speak at all. If I don't say anything, they can't use but the most brief clip on the news or whatever they're planning to use the footage for.

It takes a while and some creative footwork, but I finally evade them with the help of some burly dancing men who are apparently starring in an impromptu musical all around me. They gather in droves around the back entrance to the clinic and, with coordinated creative flourishes, erect a big sign over the door that says "Blogger Entrance" to distract the media into thinking that's where I'll be heading. I am grateful for their assistance, but still wondering what the fuck is taking so long with my upcoming surgery. I just want to get it over with.

There's a bit more, but it would be unwise to post it here.

Political Science

I ripped a page from the Lindsey Turner Dreambook.

Fox News, fresh off their Demo-snubbing at the hands of John Edwards, invited Nashville, Tenn. bloggers to a Town Hall discussion about the hot little 2008 prez race.

Bloggers would introduce themselves to Fox viewers with cheeseball lines such as, "My name is Katherine Coble of Just A Pretty Farce. I want the government to stay the hell out of our lives. In 2008, I want to see Jacob Sullum in the White House. You guessed it, Fred Barnes. I'm a Libertarian."

And then you would have some cocky celeb such as libertarian Denis Leary and he would say something like "Amen, sister!" to Coble's admission.

When time came for me, I wanted to say something like "I'm a liberal with libertarian tendencies. Plus, I've been researching libertarian-socialism on the Internet lately, and I think that label best fits me despite being somewhat of an oxymoron."

But the Fox News brass said something to the effect of "our viewers are dumb as rocks. Your identity would only cause their brain cells to fissure because they're retarded."

So I went with liberal. And here's what I said.

"My name is Joey Hood. I used to have a blog called TV on the Fritz. I believe in equal rights for gays and universal health care. In 2008, I want to see a tranny in the White House. Holyfuck, I must be a liberal!"

Then I had some fat lesbian celeb such as Rosie O' Donnell who snapped, "you go sister friend."