What would Roald Dahl make of 21st century world? We need some of his whimsy and appreciation for the macabre. We're too flat footed and unimaginative in this era of not being quite sure what tomorrow brings, because it may be a great big man-eating pothole, or bills flying through the mail slot like something out of "Harry Potter."
At random times I sing, "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow." And look, today it did! Beautifully, too. Better than focusing on the crazy stuff that makes the world whirl: Dominique Strauss-Kahn being let go, Qaddafi not yet letting go, the path of Irene, who the hell's running for president, what the stock market will do next, lake amoebas, the dangers of sleep deprivation, is it sane to eat a diet of no cholesterol, whether Tiger will get his mojo back, and will President Obama wake up on Martha's Vineyard, throw open the window and shout, "I'm mad as hell and I'm NOT going to take it anymore."
And in a world overrun with crazy apps, can some wise guy please do us a favor: invent a device that blocks anything Kardashian from all my media sources: TV, web, newspapers, radio, podcasts. That would be fun. The power would be intoxicating.
And Bachelor Pad is on tonight. How can I watch that and loathe the K's? Easy. BP is a goof and they know it and so a lite summer laff, with "Weeds" later, which is my soul show.