Friday, September 23, 2005

Dear Anderson Cooper,

Please get out of the hurricane. Please. I promise that if you get in a car and drive somewhere that is not currently underneath a hurricane, I will still believe you when you say there is a hurricane.

I'm really only worried about you because I'm sitting alone in a motel room in Romulus, Michigan. I'm going to South Carolina tomorrow on a plane that flies out of Detroit. Plane tickets for flights that leave from Cleveland currently cost more than the combined gross national product of northern Africa, and it actually cost substantially less money for me to drive to Romulus -- which, in case you don't know, and you probably don't, because hurricanes don't come to Michigan, is where they keep the Detroit airport -- and sleep at a hotel near the airport here than to fly out of the airport that they keep in Cleveland. Gotta lose your mind in Dee-troit, rock city. That's what they say, "they" being KISS. Maybe for your next Scary Real-Time Reporting Extravaganza, Anderson Cooper, you could go stand under Gene Simmons' tongue instead of under a hurricane. It's scarier than you might think, that tongue.

You know what else is scary, Anderson Cooper? The way people who live in Michigan all drive like they're addicted to cocaine and racing each other to get to the last remaining eight-ball in North America. That scared me. It also scared me when I walked into the combination convenience store/Taco Bell in some godforsaken highway-stop area of rural Michigan and saw 8 or 9 men who were surely members of an Aryan militia. When I saw them, I thought, "Oh, Jesus. I hope I don't look too liberal," and then I thought about how I was wearing Birkenstock sandals and my standard-issue smarty-pants dark-framed glasses. Dark-framed glasses say, "Look here! There is no doubt about the fact that we are glasses. This means the person wearing them is very clever." I'll tell you a secret, Anderson Cooper: Dark framed glasses are how we smarty-pants clever liberals identify each other in a crowd. It's like a secret handshake, except far more functional.

The hurricane is getting closer to you, Anderson Cooper, and I think I'm going to close the computer and watch you standing under the hurricane until I drift off to sleep. I hope neither you nor anyone who's under that hurricane gets hurt. Good night.

Sincerely,
Kate 
posted by Kate at 11:47 PM link/comments