Notorious New Neighbor

Attention Jodie Foster look-alikes: thanks to the decision of U.S. District Court Judge Paul Friedman, attempted presidential assassin John F. Hinckley, Jr. is coming to a Williamsburg resort community near you!

Although the Secret Service, James City County police and certain tax paying citizens are disgruntled about the arrangement, let me be the first to say that it's totally thrilling to know that Hinckley (under the watchful eye of his wealthy, spry parents, collective age: 250, and quite likely a spunky African American maid named "Florence") will be able to enjoy this year's LPGA tournament from his cushy, St. Elizabeth-free environs.

Hopefully, anticipation of similar Williamsburg vacations are not compelling Lynnette "Squeaky" Fromme to knit a new floppy hat (The BoHo Manson Family look is SO yesterday--the edgy, emaciated Edie Sedgwick look is totally today), OR encouraging "Mr. Long Island Railroad" Colin Ferguson to consult AmTrak schedules.

Because neither of those shall I dare use the term "inmates" are of the correct, Williamsburg-style, socioeconomic/racial group. Only top-drawer by reason of insanity types need apply.

Since Colin Farrell couldn't attend Kimball Theater's The New World Williamsburg-based world premiere (I'd also enter a drug rehab clinic rather than endure two hours in that acoustically-challenged venue, or watch the film's historical hatchet job), it's a shame our judicial soothsayer didn't release the notoriously famous Mr. H. in time for the red carpet event.

I can just envision some busty blonde from Entertainment Tonight competing with Access Whatever It's Called' Billy Bush for an exclusive interview with Mr. H.

BB: John! John! Did The New World's ingenue cause you to experience any pathological urgings that might prompt you to gun down my uncle Dubs in order to attract her attention?

BUSTYB: John! John! Our audience wants to know if you've put Taxi Driver on your Netflix reservation list?! And how do you feel about Lindsey Lohan?!

Oh my. It's amazing what "new money types" will do for attention.

I won't be very surprised or impressed if I encounter Mr. H. lurking in the shadows somewhere on William & Mary's campus.

Because, you see, I've met Prince Charles.

It's true. I spoke to and shook the royal hand of the "man who would be a tampon" when I lived in England, during the early eighties.

I wish I could remember the exact month and date I met Camilla's Charles Philip Arthur George, but then, if I could, I wouldn't have enjoyed the early eighties nearly as much as I obviously did (a great book to read about the seventies and eighties is Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain's "Please Kill Me The Uncensored Oral History of Punk").

My favorite eighties band may be Echo and the Bunnymen. I doubt that many Yanks remember their Doors inspired sound.

Good listening via reverb, as was the noise made during my recent echocardiogram, which very thankfully revealed that my aortic valve and other valued chambers are fine.

It's difficult to describe, and perhaps there's nothing quite like, viewing a screen and seeing that pounding, fist-sized muscle powering your entire existence. Makes the brain and its always appreciated analytical abilities seem inflated.

I suppose I'll hit the progesterone and estradiol, as well as an occasional beta blocker and, due to my murmur, an antibiotic prior to dental procedures. I've been assured that I'm in a small percentile that experiences temporary, non-damaging cardiac symptoms. Hooray!

I'm healthy and happy and will see this situation pass like other sentences life places my way.

Good things come to he who waits. Just ask Mr. Hinckley

Happy New Year, Williamsburg! Huzzah!