this is no place for an entomologist.

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dateline: oZ hut

26 october 1996 10:20 p.m.

Bob Dole is in California now. I thought I smelled something funny. He's on his Amerocentric "English First" kick again. I'd love to be able to give this rant a more fitting bite, but I don't know how to say "fuck you" in Cherokee... or Hawaiian for that matter. "I'd love immigrants," the idiot seems to be saying, "If only they were more like me." Sure. Unilingual, ignorant and mired somewhere in the 19th century. Politics in general just annoys me lately. What's sad is, it's beyond passe to say so these days. If you want to be original and unique, you have to love politics. But then you'd also have to be insane, or a politician (which when you think about it...). I mean, I'm trying to be a good citizen. I sat down and watched pieces of the local mayor's debate between Arnold Morgado and Jeremy Harris, and this week I carried my lunch right past Arnold as he was speaking in front of Campus Center. I already know I'm going to vote for Arnold, but more and more that fact doesn't make me very happy. The only reason, I guess, I'm backing him is because of a deepset hatred of Jeremy. But if I've learned anything from hearing Arnold speak, it's that he's not so hot either. Nationally it's the same thing. All I know is that my vote is going anywhere but Dole. But those anywhere-buts aren't exactly encouraging choices. At this point it's beginning to look like Nader, simply because I already voted for Perot and I'd like to try throwing my vote away somewhere else. It was the roach episode of the X Files tonight. It wasn't as eerie the second time around. At least not with Derek on the line at the same time, who (though he'd never admit it) actually has a touch of talent for MiSTing stuff. I think, in fact, the episode is one of my favorites -- despite the Doogie-Howseresque computer terminal reflection Mulder does at the end. I mean, how can you beat a methane explosion at a dung storehouse? It makes a good point. If the first contact we ever make with another world is with automated robot probes, why do we think that the first alien elements to hit Earth will be the big slimy life-forms themselves? Tomorrow's the new episode, if there's no baseball. It sucks. You know, I have yet to meet a single person who's actually watching. I'm beginning to think the baseball industry itself just bought the airtime to satisfy yet another weird paragraph in some player's ridiculous contract. Derek and I tried to figure out how long we've known eachother, and though our guess was right, it was actually disturbing that I could confirm the exact date by looking through this diary. It's very... weird having your past on the record. oZ diary -- June 15: "Nice enough fellow, a Mac guy even, but no thanks." I wonder how long I'll be able to hold out before he reads this stuff? I really can't even believe I've been able to stick with this diary for so long. It's very un-me. I did it all last semester for class, but not half as often (and I wasn't half as longwinded, either). I just fast-forwarded through the last five months of my life as its chronicled online, and it's a bit depressing how incoherent I seem to be when running through these entries nonstop. I guess when I say, "I live life one day at a time," I'm not kidding. Each day is an adventure all on its own. Yeah, that's it. The only other thing I've discovered is without exception, every friend I worked or hung out with over the summer essentially vanished when I went back to school. Sometimes it really makes me wonder why I'm the only freak who insisted on staying in college. oZ diary -- August 13: "Wherever all those people were [sic] that lectured me over the summer about how I shouldn't take a break from college, I sure need them now." Thanks a lot guys. Seriously.