All this is just to say that a helicopter landed in front of my apartment today.

I come from a place hailed as the safest city in America. Which is true. Err, more or less. While Middletown isn't so much the burgeoning metropolis it's sometimes made out to be, I have read on several occassions that it boasts the lowest crime rate of any comparable township. This all makes sense, of course, when you consider that Middletown is probably the most middle-class place in the known universe. Not poor enough to breed crime, and not rich enough to attract it. Which, frankly, is fine by me. And now that Geraldo has moved out, well, that leaves only Jon Bon Jovi to lure the really rich criminals, the ones interested in million dollar ransom notes. Nobody's dumb enough to kindap Jon Bon Jovi, though. Mostly cause he's so cool, obviously, but also because he could kill you with his bare hands. No lie.

I sometimes like to think of Santa Monica as the Middletown of the California Coast. Makes me feel less homesick. Sure we've got botox clinics instead of Quik Cheks, and I'll even grant you that the populace here is, on the whole, slighty more attractive. But mostly the comparison serves. Beach town, suburb of a big city...you know, the really important stuff. Like, for instance, the police presence. Or rather, perhaps I should say the police non-presence, cause in two years here I've seen cops three times. Well, there was that time that I called them. And how could I forget that time 7 of California's finest simultaneously pulled their guns on me during a fugitive stand-off? Memories, like the corner of my mind. Misty water color memories...Of the way we were.

There's really no closing to this post, or witty tie-in with the beginning. All of this was just to say that I was awoken this morning by a police copter landing in front of my apartment, with a media copter still in the sky.

I want very much to be a part of something important.