Inauguration Eve Dinner

Jan 19

Will, Bill, Lynne, Ian, Edgar, Bob, Bobb, Barbara, Jeanette, Steve L


This was one of those rare occasions when Monday night was sandwiched between two historic events: the inauguration of President Obama and the 32nd Doo Dah Parade.
Despite Obama's efforts to make as much a mess of the swearing-in as he could, there was little doubt that the Doo Dah was the bigger disappointment. There appeared to be fewer floats than usual, towards the end there were huge gaps between floats so the crowd got restless, and the protest floats lacked their usual zip. Hard to tell if this was because the recession is squeezing spending, or the lack of political targets now that Bush is history.
There was one half-hearted attempt to have a go at McCain and Palin, but it didn't amount to much. And as, according to a poll, most American voters are willing to give Obama two years to get things right, maybe we won't see floats protesting his record until 2012. Could be a bit dull for a while, then.
Poor Bobb and Barbara were caught under a balcony on Raymond where the occupants were spilling champagne and the glasses containing the bubbly, as well as necklaces, lumps of marshmallow and lots of the other stuff that was flying to and fro across the street. Understandably, they quit early and I don't reckon they missed too much. But the sun shone and it was an entertaining couple of hours before the traditional police car followed the last float to signal that it was time to go home.
This sparked the now-obligatory discussion at this time of year about our organizing a Monday Night float for the next Doo Dah. I wouldn't bet on it, though, unless Conrads can be persuaded to pay for it - and I wouldn't bet on that either.
At least the parade took Ian's mind off the problems he is having as musical director on The Jazz Age, which the Blank Theater Company is putting on in Hollywood next month.
According to the publicity, the play will feature "the pulsating beat of a live jazz trio" playing a original score which Ian is supposed to be writing. Trouble is, the live trio are his Bungalow Boys, who aren't best known for jazz riffs. Even worse, on Sunday night Ian invited the lady who owns the show to hear him and the Boys at Cantalini's. She was apparently unimpressed with Ian's preferred repertoire.
What's more the director is apparently taking the politically safe line of allying himself with the boss, leaving the spotlight firmly on Ian. Time for one of Rollo's rescue acts, methinks.
But at least Ian was sufficiently happy with the forthcoming 800-page collected volume of his Letters from Lotusland to buy Barbara's meal last night, in return for her sterling efforts as the book's editor. And he even split his bread pudding with her too.
The subject of editing led to the perennially fraught question of Will's Wikipedia entry, notorious for claiming that he was born in San Francisco in 1939. It was actually St John, Nova Scotia, in 1989 (OK, just kidding).
Will protests, as ever, that he cannot get it changed, and Wikipedia does now guard its entries far more jealously than in the early days, when anyone could and did put anything into the entries, often maliciously or hoaxily (I just made the word up, but then a neologism a day keeps the pedant at bay).
However, it can't be that difficult to update an entry, because I have just added the Cactus County Cowboys to Will's. Just give us the facts, Mr Ryan, just the facts, and we'll get it all put right.
The evening ended, sort of, on a hygiene note. As we are so used to seeing the A, B, C grading system to rate the cleanliness of LA restaurants, so of us trusting souls, me included, thought it applied to Pasadena. Not so, because the crown colony has its own health department and they don't run any system at all that the public can easily latch on to. Consequently you never know how clean they are. Or otherwise. I was glad we'd finished eating by the time this came up, if you'll pardon the expression.
Conrads is, of course, beyond reproach cleanliness-wise.

CAUGHT ON THE BREEZE
It's such a depressing play
How do you get a seat at the Doo Dah Parade?
I count my blessings - Rollo, Simon and Regina
You can see men kissing and holding their crotches - just like Cantalini's, then?
Ooh, she's come dressed as a nurse: but she is a nurse!
Electric cars suck.
I don't look at my portfolio, these days there's no point
It's like a long 8-year migraine coming to an end
Solar cars are great - as long as you don't leave them in the garage
Life isn't for the faint-hearted
Perfection and procrastination are my two guiding principles, or should that be principals? I'll tell you later