Neither Eminence Nor Eminem, Definitely Griese

The reason for advancing to the Western Front was a wangled invitation to the 20th anniversary of a professional organization that I joined oh 20 years ago or so it would seem. Among the pitifully few real envelopes that crossed my desk one day, thankfully falling out of the catalogs advertising goods and services that I stopped buying three or four years ago, there came this invitation to the Swank Anniversary Gala Party. It not seeming to me to be wisdom incarnate to propose spending public dollars to attend a Swank Anniversary Gala Party, much less spending public dollars to travel 3000 miles to the Western Front to attend a Swank Anniversary Gala Party, much less spending public dollars to do anything when the very Office of Tax Collection Its Own Bad Self seems to have enjoyed an ongoing looting of some 31 millions of the public dollars so that the perps could attend Swank Atlantic City Casinos (an oxymoron methinks). And then another group I have the honor of associating with, when I'm not considering Groucho Marx's axiom concerning groups who would hang with the likes of me, desired that a big-deal initiative of theirs get in front of as many groups as possible as fast as possible, including -- the wery group that desired me to travel 3000 miles to the Western Front to attend their Swank Anniversary Gala Party. Synergy, sez I. Suggestions were posited, e-mails exchanges, approvals in triplicate secured, shoes were doffed, planes were boarded and deboarded in Seattle, City of Light (Not).

On the Left Coast Hand, it was wonderful and the very blessing of the world to visit with friends from Back in the Day, when the organization was just starting up and we made things up as we went along. On the Right Coast Hand, um ... where did all these young persons come from? Must have been not paying attention, imagine that. And let's not strike out into any territory that might putatively be defined as Eagerly Awaiting Poils of Wisdom; cross that out and make it Here Be Monsters instead. Truth to tell, given the notion that half of all Received Wisdom is obsolete within five years, I'm long overdue to be hung up in the antechambers, arms and legs akimbo, muttering disconsolately about the Old Days ("Pleasing an Impossible Customer? Hah! Let's talk about Reagan's Second Inaugural!" "Um ... wasn't he, like, ?" "Well, that didn't come until later.")

Still, most all of our great and good friends from those Particular Days were there, and they emitted appropriate fabulosity, generally more so that my particular self. I will admit to sporting a strategic pair of red Chucks. You would think these things would be growing off trees in Seattle, but no ... It occurred to me that during my August Presidency, this organization began at its gathering of clans to dance; now it would seem that the dancing never stops. Master Po advises me that this is neither good nor bad, it just Is. Parm me for a sec while I recommend Master Po to Bite Me. As the whippersnappers of the last century did say.