Back in Colorado
Our flight out of Santa Barbara — a nice 1:52 direct shot to DIA — was canceled yesterday afternoon when some kind of warning light flared up during taxiing for takeoff.
So instead of getting home at a reasonable hour, my wife and I were obligated to visit the airport in San Jose, and from there, catch a flight back to Colorado.
All of which has left me exhausted, particularly when the three days of boozing and banquet food is factored in. In fact, my liver, could it speak, would likely try to spit out some plaintive note of pathos — a wistful condemnation of the trappings of a libertine lifestyle that nevertheless betrayed a clear yearning for its hedonistic purity — only to manage instead nothing but a low gurgle, before vomiting up blood and enough Islay bog peat to pack Sean Connery’s steam bath.
I will break down the various speeches — and offer a critique of the conference itself, including our trip to the Reagan ranch — but not until my head is completely free of recirculated compressed air and whatever it is they put in that tiny bag of complementary airline pretzels that acts like heavily salted peyote.
Although by way of a tease, I will say this: I think I may have convinced “24” creator Joel Surnow to set up a Chris Makepiece / Jack Bauer showdown.
At least, I pitched it. If he’s too blinkered to see the genius of pitting a couple of Canadians against one another in brutal hand to hand combat for the enjoyment of a slackjawed US audience, then fuck him, and fuck the cynical, predictable Hollywood establishment.
Otherwise, call me, Joel. We’ll do lunch.