word to my homies living in Rock ridge: Misfit Island is now officially on PST

Lyndon Larouche has a strong presence here on the Berkeley campus. His supporters are both obnoxious and aggressive. Once, when walking innocently by them and discussing politics in a regular tone of voice, one of them chased me (and my companions) down to harangue us about how John Kerry's supporters only wanted to do drugs and have sex in hot tubs. To which I said, "Hot tubs! Sounds like my kind of party!" hoping to subtly yet hilariously tell this person to get lost. His snobbily-toned response: "That's why you're not political!" Apparently sarcasm and/or subtlety are lost on activists. I should have known.

I've been thinking all summer of ways to get them to leave me alone when they get a little too frisky with their blandishments to vote Larouche in '04. Finally, at the end of the day a week or so ago, I came up with the perfect excuse: "I'm Canadian." This covers my bases as far as excuses go: both ridiculously untrue and yet totally disqualifying if it were actually true. Having not yet had a chance to use this line, I've occupied myself instead with imagining my responses to the Larouche people if they tried to call me on my bluff. My favorite, I think, was one in which I claimed that I was from Toronto and that I would never vote for Larouche because I loved Mats Sundin and that unless he was as big a Mats Sundin fan as I was or (better yet) turned out to actually BE Mats Sundin, that I would never vote for him. Also, Michael Peca is a dirty slut and a whiner. Tie Domi will kill you. Kill you.