BINGO!

If fifty four percent of China's population is male, it means that in a nation of 1.3 billion people, there will (theoretically) be fifty two million adult men without a prospective wife. Despite the potential for better egg rolls in Utah and a convincing answer to The Beatles' famous question about where do all the lonely people come from, this demographic imbalance is likely to pose grave social consequences for China, and will frame a massive case-study for the cultural implications of marriagelessness.

But even in a country of more promising odds, we still struggle to maintain a majority of holy matrimony. Statistically speaking (now that over fifty percent of American "I do's" end with "I don't,"), sustainable marriage is officially a minority institution. And based on the conventional banter of husbands poo-pooing their wives, one would also figure that even "successful" marriage is too often a grinding compromise of instincts and identity -- and that with due time and duress, even the most sincere and soulful lovers will no less indulge in the custom of testicular cynicism.

Perhaps it won't be surprising then (given the advancements in women's rights, life expectancy, and individual freedom), that the structure of traditional marriage would eventually harden into a stale survivalist shell of mergers and acquisitions. The shelf-life on monogamy could be a decent bet too, considering the constant mockery of single-source vagina being made by the parade of public infidelities and cultural contradictions. In the sleepy suburbs of Chicago, for example, I'm told of routine "swinging" -- not to mention blow-jobs on the bar mitzvah bus. Religious and political champions of "family values," appear increasingly medieval to the relatively silent secularity of common sense people (who strongly oppose their positions on social issues, including gay marriage). And even the recent day-time departure of Oprah Winfrey (the ultimate purveyor of "living your best life"), reminds us of the changing guard, and the modeling of new school partnerships that turn "Steadmans" into golden retrievers.

(So remember, China men, your women already eat dog as a delicacy).

But whatever the direction may be, in spite of all these evolutionary headwinds, I'll still believe in the conquering force of a loving marriage. I'll also believe that no matter how many times your flight is delayed, hijacked, or redirected back to the gate, there's always a happy landing for those who stay airborne (especially for those who fly Virgin).

In my personal flight-log of "favorite mistakes," there are myriad twists and turns that might have otherwise rendered me forever solo, once divorced, or in a circling pattern of "good enough." And backtracking throughout those tailspins of serendipity (both sweet and sour), I am rocked by the dumb fortune of every bad date, big miss, and broken heart that bounced me towards "BINGO!" -- the day I earned me some wings and met my wife.

It wasn't always easy and it wasn't always fun ... but it was always worth it.

Woof-woof.

The Empire Strikes Back

If eyes are the windows to the soul, then Osama bin Laden must have been in constant supply of Visine. Compared to the beady hollows of George W. Bush, I was always confounded by “the evil doer’s” soft brown marbles, and the disarming charisma we now revisit throughout the clips of his passive command. It was almost as if bin Laden had achieved some flawed form of enlightenment, like Darth Vader, and that the Supreme Court (George Lucas) had fatally miscast George W. Bush to play Luke Skywalker, along with Dick Cheney as Obi wan Kenobi, Condoleezza Rice as Princess Leia, Paul Wolfowitz as Yoda, and the common sense of Colin Powell sounding every bit the tongue of Chewbacca. Unfortunately, John Kerry couldn't steal the scene in the sequel, and so as most sequels do, the follow-up bombed so badly that it paved the way for a screenplay we could allegedly believe in -- "Return of the Black Harvard Jedi."

(Sorry W., but Jedi's don't choke on pretzels).

Eyes wide shut, however, and you may observe that the synchronicity between Bush and bin Laden -- the two most impactful men of the new century – is pretty darn good. Sons of privilege and petroleum, both men represented the rotting stereotypes of the American and Arab worlds -- Bush, the crusading cowboy, and bin Laden, the desert tribalism. Both rejected modernity in the name of religion – Bush (stem-cell research), bin Laden (woman’s rights); both perverted a spiritual faith towards leadership and policy; and both men, so mutually catapulted by September 11, were dramatically rebuffed by the still tenuous revolutions of Barack Obama and the “Arab Spring” -- or as the tea party would lump 'em, the Great Muslim Uprising.

In their false theater of good versus evil, Bush and bin Laden would stage a canon of seminal catastrophes, i.e. the Patriot Act, the national surplus turned debt, water-boarding, three-ounce toiletries, two putrid wars and a partridge in a pear tree. And in a suspension of disbelief, we (the people, the press, the Congress) pulled up some popcorn for a blockbuster of tragic reciprocity -- Bush's mistakes and fear mongering validating bin Laden, and bin Laden's temporary success bestowing Bush with his blunderous bounce of leadership.

While their "ORANGE ALERTS" did provide a brilliant subtext for hooking up with girls, this was not the "69" that we ultimately had in mind. Bush and bin Laden were the best thing that ever happened to one another, and the worst thing that ever happened to us.

In the end, it seems, both men had retreated to their suburban compounds, surrounded by some family and final followers. Then, with a made-for-movie bullet, both men were killed -- one literally, and the other figuratively, in the sense that W.'s John Wayne persona was officially buried when a black constitutional law professor with Hussein in his name rolled into town and lassoed the bad guy (no sir, this was not your father’s western).

Hopefully the world will start showing some better films. But for one fine day in May, it was finally time to roll some credits.

Mission Accomplished.