confessions

One of my dreams came true yesterday. I saw Usher live and in person. Or at least pixelated on a slightly time-delayed Jumbotron. And while I was dismayed he didn't perform "Confessions" (or drop trou on stage), I'm elated that he was chosen to sing "Higher Ground" with Stevie Wonder. But then Shakira came on the stage and f*cked it all up. At the time, however, with my rather obstructed view, it was just "some blond girl with a shaky voice." Who knew? Oh. The people not watching the Jumbotron at an awkward angle.

So, alas, I'm not the savviest of large concert goers, but I am one of the most observant. Well, except when it comes to Shakira. In short, it was a really bizarre atmosphere. I've mentioned it before, but allow me to just go ahead and repeat myself -- the hysteria surrounding Obama seems very Soviet to me. At one point, while I was walking down 17th (I was forced to bequeath my bike at G Street), a scruffy young whippersnapper (yes, sometimes I talk like an octogenarian), came up to my friends and I and offered us gift certificates for a free "Obama tattoo."

My immediate reaction was, of course, to laugh in his face, however, as I type this now I wonder, "Is that a free tattoo of just the name 'Obama' or a full-out portrait of the man's visage?" If it's the latter, then I can assure you that my fears of a 21st-century, American version of a 20th-century, Soviet-style cult of personality are disturbingly accurate:


However, unlike the Soviet versions of cult of personality, which were largely propagated and controlled by the state, Obama's seems to come directly from the masses, who went nuts whenever the camera turned its attention from whatever celebrity (Usher) or C-lister (Tom Hanks) was on stage to Obama's toothy grin, even if it was for a split second. This means two things in my mind: 1) Obama is hopefully just as creeped out as I am by all this unnecessary and quite creepy attention, and 2) There's going to be a sh*tload of people in four (or maybe eight) years who will be in need of a tattoo removal service, lest they end up looking like that looker posted above. (Hello, business opportunity!)

But enough about that. I'm becoming a broken record regarding Obamysteria, which I'm afraid doesn't sound cool like an Usher record, but sounds fairly boring like a Josh Groban joint. So, let's move on...

It's Martin Luther King, Jr. day today and I would very much like to observe it, not just to honor Obama (in a non-creepy, but very reasonable way) for becoming our first black president (which is pretty damn cool in showing we've at least come a little ways since the civil rights movement), but also in honor of my beloved Usher, whose name is as fun to type as it is to say. Usher (Usher, Usher, Usher) is, hands-down, the best all-around performer since Michael Jackson. That's a scientific fact. And he's hot.



And in other news, since I suddenly have a ridiculous amount of time on my hands, I've signed up for "Twitter." Not that you all want to know what I'm eating for breakfast (beans), lunch (beans) or dinner (beans), but if you have brain damage and for some reason can't get enough of my daily retardedness here, feel free to "follow me" (wow, that sounds creepy) over there. You can "follow me" (seriously, who thought up the terms for this Web site, anyway?) there under the very creative username "theantidc," which you can find via my E-mail or my name maybe. I don't know. I'm functionally retarded.

And speaking of retarded, I've been asked to DJ a short set next Monday (Jan. 26) at Solly's near U Street. I can guarantee you that I will throw some Usher up in the mix, which I will sandwich between stuff Usher's probably never heard of, or if he has, probably doesn't like. Anyway, bring your family, friends, e-friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, frienemies, archenemies, nemeses, hobos, hookers and whoever else you can wrangle up and be sure to say "Hello!" or "F*ck you!" or "See you in hell!" or whatever. I don't yet have an exact time for my set, but when it comes up I'll be sure to let you all know through at least one of the 7,983 means I have to e-communicate (read: self=promote) these days.

Until then, Happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day!