SHAKEN MARTINI:BOND STYLE
Posted by adrainsean on December 10, 2007
Off late, California has been in the news for all the wrong reasons - first the crazy forest fires in SoCal (as people from there like to call it, making it sound like a capsule you would take for indigestion or some such ailment), then the hurricane again down south, and now finally the mini-quakes that have caused sympathetic vibrations here in the Bay Area. While I don’t particularly care about the first two incidents (mainly because I am a localist), the third matters to me since it affects me directly.
The religious among us would ascribe it to the wrath of God, the superstitious would ascribe it to too much sun, and subsequently, sunscreen, but I smell a conspiracy here. Those of you who have seen the Simpsons’ movie that was released recently will remember that the President of the country was my near-namesake Arnie. Arnie, having not much to do at work, saw it too and quite liked the idea of him doing the most laid back government job in the country. My theory is that Arnie has a secret pact with the cosmos. His relationship with her goes back a long way to the 70’s when he was crowned Mr. Universe. In fact, it is believed in some political circles that he is the illegitimate child of her and the omnipresent and popular Mr. Steroids.
Please note that he has not made any announcements of his candidacy to run for the Office with the other good ol’ white Republican boys. I wonder why, oh yeah, that’s right, because he is not one of them! He is playing The Protector of all Californians right now, and thus by extension of all Americans since California represents quintessential American anyway - bad traffic, great taxes and a large number of illegal Mexicans, and will swoop in to the Presidential Race right before Judgment Day in the wake of lack of strong (not just physically) Republican candidates.
The people of California are reacting to the quavers in different ways. Stressed out middle-aged Asian software engineers combating the combined forces of the waning of close-range vision and mid-life crisis feel it is good stress relief and provide reasons to laugh (as a colleague told me today). Illegal immigrants from south of the border who have hit puberty are using fear as an excuse to put their unwanted, yet hard-working genes to good use by passing them on. When the author of this post used his two semesters of college Spanish and spoke to the average such specimen on the street, what filtered through the translation was an allusion to the proven theory that man, when threatened with extinction only thinks of continuing his race. It is a corollary to the Survival of the Fittest Theory. I, not being a middle-aged Asian software engineer or a horny illegal immigrant, am definitely shaken but not stirred as James Bond Martini Vodka, and no, not from the quakes, but from my near-namesake’s chess skills. After all, isn’t life just an extension of the addictive board game
bond martini
