A strange distortion of reality has come to my town, and its name is Mel Gibson. When Mel Gibson comes to town, all of a sudden faux farmer's markets appear on the wrong day, everyone seems to be carrying a walkie-talkie, and ropes and ropes of wires are taped to the sidewalks. Gibson is here to make a film about a daughter who has disappeared. You know, the same old fear narrative he's been peddling for pretty much ever.
On my way to a cup of coffee this morning I passed a bad simulacrum of a protest. Over and over, Gibson drove by in a car as the protesters hooted and hollered about a war. In a Gibson world, the protesters are drab, often wear smeared black eye make-up, and seem anemic. Two protesters were dressed in eagle and bear costumes. You know, like liberals do.
Sadly, I did not get to talk with Mel. I had hoped to ask him about his Yom Kippur plans.