Roman, Indians, and the Rocks Below

I remember when I was a kid. The only dangerous stretch of road I’d hear about was Dead Man’s Curve. Even though I didn’t live in California, this 90 degree LA turn was infamous for it’s potential death and destruction.

Dead Man’s Curve is a serious hairpin on Sunset Boulevard right below where all the rich people live. If you don’t make it, you either drive into Roman Polanski’s old house or you fly off a cliff. It’s perfect for keeping the rabble from the LA rich, and what better photo op? Look left while you’re airborne and you might see the Hollywood sign.  Say “dead cheese…”

“Rob Blog”

Close enough. A little RobBlog fun fact: When I moved to the LA area, I drove Dead Mans Curve. I wanted to speed. Once you break free of the traffic, there’s this great straightaway just before the curve. I seriously wanted to push the pedal to the floor and feel the LA smog through my hair.

I didn’t though. I wanted to live even more.

Now the most treacherous roadway everyone is talking about is this “Fiscal Cliff.” I have to admit, when I first heard the term I thought of a friendly tax guy at the end of the bar.

“Tell ya what Normy…”

Yeah, sometimes I’m too slow on the uptake. Or, maybe I’m just optimistic.  Is there a real difference? I wanted the fiscal cliff to sit and have a drink with me and tell me everything would be OK.

It’s not.

Well I mean it’s not gonna offer me a beer. I still believe things will be OK. At least for those people who take the fiscal cliff with a hang glider.  Those people will be just fine.  The rest?  Well remember those textbook pictures of Native Americans driving buffalo over a rock face into oblivion?  Well in this picture the politicians are the Native Americans you and me, we’re the buffalo.  We’re flying bull if we brought our hang gliders.

If you didn’t bring your bull glider, then at least you can take consolation in the fact that these political Indians are driving too hard and fast. Just like Dead Man’s Curve, they’ll never stop in time. They’re going over the cliff too.

“Oh look!  The Hollywood sign.”

“And Roman Polanski!”

“I got a rock.”

So what is this mystical hang glider I speak of? What will land us safely on solid ground? What is the answer to overcoming Washington’s doomsday woes?  I don’t know. It’s a metaphor. In their metaphor I’m going off a cliff. In my metaphor I’m flying away.

If life hands you lemons…make up lemonade.

And maybe that’s why politicians refuse to agree on this issue as time ticks off the fiscal bomb. “Fiscal Cliff” is just another hypothetical scare tactic. Nobody believes in the cliff. If they did, they’d do something. You know … like … stop.

Stop. Jan and Dean sang about Dead Man’s Curve. It was a great song until Jan actually went over the cliff, then he stopped singing.

Stop. Maybe we need the politicians to see a real cliff to stop, or at least get tied up in Roman Polanski’s hose. Let’s see how long they continue arguing about the semantics of red and blue plans before stopping to the face of a real threat. Red and Blue? We’re purple and pulpy when strewn over a pile of rocks. And purple pulpy things don’t get to say “I told you so.” Not even Barney the Dinosaur after the great toddler sugar riots of ’06.

No, this fiscal cliff is not a purple dinosaur. It’s a green game of chicken, because nobody takes the metaphor seriously.

And if they don’t why should I? I’ll just fly away on my hang glider.