Suu Kyi on the road, August 2000 (that long ago?)

She's out again, that woman
and without a speck of humour,
a fingerpinch of om.
She hangs her tarnished prize around our necks
and it stinks;
a carcass of a cause
dead to our enthusiasms
because, well you know
that was sort of ten years ago and we've passed on.
Fun, she isn't.
Smiling, she lectures us
and we don't like it.

"Less talk and more action"
she has the effrontery to say.
It rankles because we cared
we really did.

But she's still singing the same old tune
without even a sexy little ring to it.
Pragmatically speaking,
we have grown and she has not.
That must be why she's doomed
to sweat in that car,
holding on as long as she can,
and then when she cannot,
reaching for the potty.

At least something has improved. We don't see and hear her any more, especially now.

As much as we’d like to pretend that actors’ real lives don’t matter, we know it’s not true. We care. - Paige Ferrari, in a headline story today in MSNBC, Brad vs. Vince, Who's the Money