Just when they thought he could not get more liberal, he got more liberal. Or so it appears. Seems, even. I cannot say that I agree with Keith Olbermann on everything, but there is one thing I am sure of…solidarity with the people is better represented without a tie. I could be wrong about why he shed the necktie, nixed the noose, chunked the choker. But, even if it just feels more right (which is left) I am ready to congratulate the Manhattan margrave.
Fingers crossed, and having just witnessed that pennant path meteor, I am so hoping that this miracle is real. Please don’t let it just be two days that he wanted freedom for his neck. Oh, I hope it is not a goiter, or a big boil on the nape, or the recent discovery of restriction of bloodflow to the lumbar by the tie. Sorry, Shoe, but I am hoping this is forever on the show. Surely, he might have to wear one of those constrictors to a banquet, ball or benefit, but let it be temporary.
I gave up wearing dresses at the turn of the millenium. I hung a sign in my bathroom that says, “Life is too short to wear pantyhose.” Without sounding like Daisy or Ellie May, I went barefoot for the first twenty years of my life (unless I was at church or school) and I am proud to be a blue jean girl. Andy Warhol said, “I want to die with my blue jeans on.” And more than once, Keith’s fans have gotten a glimpse of what Brian Williams also admitted, that those anchors have jeans on.
Though his theory of relativity just got shot to hell, Albert Einstein had a stellar wardrobe hypothesis: “If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture, let us be more ashamed of shabby ideas and shoddy philosophies…. It would be a sad situation if the wrapper were better than the meat wrapped inside it.” I love it. Enough with the superficial, the pretense, the constant concern about appearances and God forbid keeping up with the Vanderbilts!
My hunch is that Keith is experiencing a whole new liberation, without libation. In the passing of our beautiful parents, there is a new and sudden realization of independent being. (I know, he was already that!) There is an odd fetter that is bittersweetly loosed. My own daughter brought this to my attention as we tried to understand what defines a person, and enables change. Some experts agree that our characters are formed by the age of two.
In recent years, he experienced a lengthy love relationship that must have been like spring. Though there is no such thing as time, and age is only a number, being with youth brings rebirth. It revitalizes and captivates, but in a pleasurable way. Love itself always liberates. It always undoes. Unties. Opens up. It facilitates freedom. It enhances everything within us that is our true selves, our best selves. It makes us more whole, even if we are by ourselves.
The separation from The Yankees was probably the most defining moment of his emancipation. His wonderful dad, Ted, was once tied to them. His marvelous mom, Marie, rarely missed a game. And most of the pictures I have saved of him show the broadest smiles, brought about in the Bronx, by the ballpark, beaming beside a bevy of New York greats. Though I think what happened at Old Timers Day genuinely hurt him, that experience truly belongs to old times.
He has all the trademarks of a decent human being, multiplied exponentially by his integrity, his dignity, his grace, and his quest to be the best at what he does. I admire him so much. And he is a hero to many more. He speaks for us. Like Michael Moore, and all his other guests, he cares what happens to the least of us. That is why Occupy Wall Street means so much to him. He is not afraid to report on it. He wants to see the world change, to stop wrong, and start right.
I know. It is only a tie that this whole piece focuses on…or rather…off. By removing that tie, Keith Olbermann has spoken volumes. He is not playing the game. (To see the game best played, check out the morning show, Fox & Friends, where two men in ties are covered, all but head and hands, and between them sits a heavily made up blond, showing lots of skin, cleavage, and leg.) I do confess that I look forward to seeing more of Keith’s neck. Mea culpa.
Now, if he shows up in a tie tonight, I will not be sure about my abilities anymore. I will question my ESP, my five degrees and certifications, my exit from the gaming world, my amazing intuition, my belief that his prior hair length attests to the free bird in him, my certainty that centrist Beatles fans have the greatest imaginations, and my infinite love for tieless Lou Gehrig and Gandhi. As KO’s examiner, I will retire…to bed in my “Feeling Blue” Eeyore gown. Holy Sh*t! What if it’s Shuster?