Well, it looks like it’s the week for Jews in the Media whose name starts with “Ar” or “Aar” to leave the White House or, at least, a recreation of the White House on a Warner Bros. studio lot. Frankly, I find it uncomfortably chilling how often virtually identical situations like this happen at or around the same time. Like when Armageddon and Deep Impact both hit theaters within weeks, and then both of them sucked. Or Antz and A Bug’s Life competing to be the children’s movie that finally pushes my pathological phobia of anthropomorphized insects beyond “charming quirk” and into the realm of “clinical psychosis.” Or Britney and Christina both dyeing their hair brown, as if that would thwart my stalking efforts. Frankly, I find it uncomfortably chilling how often virtually identical situations like this happen at or around the same time.
In fact, there’s a whole list of things that come in twos that not only confuse me (and, therefore, are consequentially juxtaposed in my head time and again) but make me shake, sweat, and eventually pass out when trying to wrap my noggin around the cosmic statistics that produced two (2) improbable flukes.
One adorable actor with a wonky pituitary gland landing a hit prime-time sitcom in the 80s about an inner-city black orphan adopted into a rich white household is about as big a spoonful as my plausibility appetite can swallow.. But two of them? That’s just so freakish, my head’s ready to explode.
Countries that start with “Austr” and end in “ia.” When the boatload of seafarin’ delinquents landed on a naked Aborigine and it was time to declare a name for their new land, surely somebody had at least heard of Austria, right? I mix these two countries up all the time, and it really wrecked my attempt to score a bargain on Priceline last summer. Well, it’s irrelevant now, as I am banned from both nations. Not only are their names so similar, but also they share laws prohibiting the sale of alcohol, tobacco, or firearms to minors. I guess they both just want to be like America. But, hey, who doesn’t?
Look, no matter how many times I learn it, I will never be able to distinguish stalactites from stalagmites, flotsam from jetsam, Flashdance from Footloose, meiosis from mitosis, or my Bubbe and Tzayde Smith* from Bubba and Zadie Smith.
Anyway, it’s probably for the best that White House Press Secretary Aaron Sorkin is leaving his post, because he lost all credibility after that hallucinogenic-mushrooms-in-the-carry-on trick at the airport. And Ari Fleischer might as well leave before “The West Wing” resorts to the usual ratings-booster tactics: “President Bartlett, meet your new Cabinet member, Cousin Oliver.”
© MMIII, Yankee Pot Roast Light & Magic