The circus is coming to town.
Big top, big time. Man-eating lions and tigers, clowns, the whole bit. And free admission.
Actually, they’re pitching the tent in Eagle, Colorado, but you will be able to see the show in Vegas. Or anywhere else where there is a television set in the United States. This one is going worldwide.
Kobe is the star, of course. Kobe Bryant of the Los Angeles Lakers, the self-confessed contrite adulterer and accused rapist. And of course The Girl will be dragged into the main ring. The 19-year old that Kobe’s lawyer says was "a consenting adult," but who claims otherwise. Before this one is all over, we’ll hear that the loud noises heard coming from Kobe’s room at the posh resort in Eagle were of passion, not protest.
Have you met or heard Kobe’s lady lawyer? She is one tough cookie, and you can be sure by the time the proceedings get underway she will have interviewed every gangling kid The Girl has ever dated, from first kiss to first meeting with The Star, and will turn every back seat encounter into a lustful tryst.
I said here a few weeks ago that Kobe will walk, and nothing has changed my mind. Not the $4 million diamond ring (which he should have given to the kid, not his wife) and not the slop they will drag out to dirty up the young lady. Watching Kobe’s mouth twitch with deep sorrow in that first press interview was about as painful as watching the Hussein sisters tell what a warm, compassionate dad their father Saddam was between his temper tantrums when he had their husbands shot and thousands of others tossed in the dungeons. A real home delight.
If the Greatest Show on Earth ”” Kobe and the Kid ”” isn’t enough titillation for you, we have an even bigger treat, a visit to the Zoo on the Coast, the California recall show, another titantic production number worthy of Hollywood at its finest.
This one features a cast of thousands, including Terminator 3, or is it 4 or 5? Presumably jealous that Minnesota had a pro wrestler as governor, California is contemplating a run by Mr. Universe, muscles rippling and snarls intact, weightlifter turned prophet. You and I are the only folks around not running for governor of California, it seems, and you can get in the act if you move across the border. All you need is $3,000 and 65 signatures. Join the 258 who have picked up paperwork to run, including pornographer Larry Flynt, and have a ball. Who knows, before it’s over, we might have Terminator 3 and The Incredible Hulk battling it out.
California, and the country, deserves all this.
We have become followers of The Lowest Common Denominator, in our tastes and our leaders and our gullibility and our love for mediocrity.
From our television shows to our music to our dress to our politicians, we have accepted commonness and vulgarity and lies and deceit.
We have reached the point where the lack of charisma and charm and intelligence and the hunger for a hero has become such a surfeit that a hoked-up story about a racehorse has become a national best seller.
Tens of thousands get their kicks watching Court TV, or any one of two dozen cop serials, or simply police chases, or mindless nonsense, or, of course, raw sex, now available in prime time with the flick of a switch. Hotels now offer adult TV specials, where for $22.95 you can watch fornication from sunset to noon the next day, nonstop. Porn stars now are national figures, with the New York Times chronicling the mom and pop doings of a porn princess and her husband, a down-to-earth next-door-neighbor couple from that hotbed of iniquity, Reading, Pennsylvania.
So sit back and grab the chips and beer and watch the dirty drama of Kobe Bryant unfold in vivid detail in your living room. When it’s all over, hang around to see Kobe join the boys for some more rollicking fun with the Lakers. Who knows? He may run for governor.