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Western Omelette

Every once in a while it’s nice to take a step back and take stock. You know, like a little checkup just to make sure the bit and pieces of life are still falling in place. Turn your head, grab your chad, and cough.

Michael Richards lost the election and Al Gore’s new show bombed in the sweeps. (Something like that.) The year 2000 is on its final leg — last chance for that Y2K bug to stop by for a cocktail — and the semester is all but wrapped up: last chance to buy your professor that subscription to Cigar Aficionado, just in case.

The fall weather has flown south, leaving something they call “icy rain” to watch over the fort. Icy rain? Why not just throw in some knife-ridden hail and burning snow while we’re at it?

And speaking of the white stuff (no, I’m not talking about the Bush transition team), Robert Downey Jr. finally came to his senses and realized that he can’t do a show with Calista Flockhart sober. Come on, could you? If you’re going to risk the possibility of unwittingly walking in during an Ally McChange session and seeing the entire inner-organ structure of a currently-alive (we think) person, you damn well better be high enough to believe it was all a hallucination. Besides, Mr. Downey’s next move was apparently going to be a stage version of Hamlet directed by Mel Gibson. Great. What’s next, Scott Baio directing Macbeth? “Macbeth in Charge?” New king in the neighborhood…

And what’s new in our own neighborhood? The Student Village Phase One Residency Project is new in town. Catchy name, eh? Can’t someone die or give a name-something-after-me amount of money to the University? How about Tipper Towers? Howard Hall? Silber Suites?

The place is a welcome addition, though. It’s nice to have an on-campus residence actually worth taking care of and keeping up. Where’s the incentive in Warren Towers to keep your place looking clean, when the smell of vomit and today’s version of yesterday’s taco bar is wafting across the hall from the gang bathroom? Yum. Very little incentive, indeed.

Oh, also from the Little Incentive File: will people in Miami-Dade County ever vote again? Will anyone ever legitimately run against Ted Kennedy? Will I ever send in my Barbizon audition portfolio?

My apologies to Republican Miami voters, Carla Howell and my sense of self-worth. All three were disenfranchised in the last paragraph. Maybe the three of us can hop in a car, swing by Jack E. Robinson’s house and then cruise to Vegas. I can score us front row seats for Siegfried and Roy. I roomed with the tiger in prep school.

Speaking of prep school, did anyone notice the media attention given to high school football this past Thanksgiving Day? I now know more about the Hingham High School Sea Captains than I do about the New England Patriots. That’s probably a good thing, though. The Sea Captains actually won a few games, the parking is free and hot dogs hot, fresh and mustardy — are only a dollar.

Let’s hold off on that new Patriots stadium until the team actually deserves something better than their current 3-bathroom monstrosity. In fact, why don’t the Patriots just convert to the “arena” format? Those lonely seats at the FleetCenter, abandoned by the Bruins and Celtics, might actually get a little companionship. Those seats have been needing some ass for a while.

Why (keeping with the theme of asses) can’t we find Whitey Bulger? Boston’s own little Teflon Don has apparently disappeared off the face of the earth, and now the FBI will dish out $1 million for information leading to his whereabouts. Wow. Regis would be proud.

How is it possible these days to stay unfound for so long anyway? Are people not aware of whom this guy is? Maybe the Herald needs a larger circulation. I have a theory that El Heraldo may actually be hiding this guy at their printing press … if “closure,” to quote the W-elect, is ever achieved in the Bulger case, the Herald would have to go back to printing hard-hitting Tonya Harding features.

Just out of curiosity, how specific do I have to be to get the million? Can I use my 50/50 and eliminate half of the planet? How about polling all of the informants in town? If I turn in Whitey from Leave it to Beaver, can I have $20? T change?

I might just take said T over to the MFA for their “The Art’s Not Working, Try Guitars” exhibit. It’s got everything from early classical guitars, to modern rock guitars, to Keith Richard’s belt — left accidentally after the premier party.

Wow, there’s a lot going on. Doesn’t that just dimple your chad?

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