I don’t necessarily actively watch much TV, but the TV always seems to be on, usually with the volume loud enough to be heard in other rooms, which is where I usually am. Normally the noise is effortlessly tuned out, but whenever something “relevant” comes on, I hear it. And so it was the other night when what with my wondering ears did I hear but the sweet, sweet sound of Sid Vicious singing “My Way.” I sprang to my feet to find out what the hell was going on. What could it mean? My mind raced through various possibilities as I ran into the room whence the sound came. Had Sidney Vish been frozen along with Bruce Lee and Elvis in the late ’70s to be revived once the economy had improved? Had the determination been made that the economy is clearly never going to get better and we may as well just bring back the boys to kick a little ass and have a bit of fun? There were oh so many wonderful scenarios passing through my transom when I sock-skidded around the corner and saw the TV. A car commercial. For Acura. No Sid. No Nancy. Acura.

I believe what I now experience each time that commercial comes on is what David Wallace called The Howling Fantods, what HST called The Fear, and what modern psychology calls Cognitive Dissonance. Call it what you will, now instead of sudden elation and the urge to overthrow monarchies, I just have a weird goddamn fit and end up cussing at everything in a Tourettish display of contempt.

I think I’m getting an ulcer. Surrender is imminent. Send whiskey.