Like some of you, I still relish the antiquated old media convention of my morning newspaper—practiced variously over the decades at a table of some sort in the early quiet with my coffee and multiple menthol cigarettes, or my coffee and cinnamon Pop Tart, or my yogurt, fruit, kashi and handful of choked-down supplements.

In the space of twenty minutes, I read all of yesterday’s bad news in one sitting. (Plus the sports pages—which suck, btw, between June and October when there is nothing at all about basketball.)

Thus steeled, I sally forth into the day, a warrior properly briefed for combat.

(Okay, so I work in my house in my sweatpants. But you get the idea. In my line, I need to know what’s going on… generally.)

This morning, thanks mostly to the design department at the Los Angeles Times, I came across something interesting on the OP ED page.

As part of the annual Tanabata Festival in Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo, customers at a local Japanese arts and crafts store were invited by the owners over the last several months to participate in the traditional practice of writing their wishes on small pieces of paper, which in turn were affixed to bamboo stalks. This weekend, the stalks were set afire—a symbolic way of sending the wishes forward into reality.

Because it’s my birthday this week, and because I’m not quite sure yet what I’m doing or whether I’ll be having a birthday cake—or even if I really care to witness such a cake, fully engulfed with the flames from 55 candles— I thought maybe I’d take this opportunity to make my own set of birthday wishes.

So here goes.

***

My first wish I’m keeping secret. What, do you think I’m an idiot? Otherwise, I wish that:

The people who run our country would stop using the economy, health care, petrochemicals, the environment and other important issues as a political football.

The stock market would reflect something more substantial than greed, fear and mindless bandwagonism. There’s no rational meaning to the up and down, and yet each day brilliant people spend thousands of hours talking about it and trying to explain it, and meanwhile fortunes are won and lost.

Doctors would honor their appointments: A ten thirty appointment should mean you get seen at ten thirty, not that ten-thirty is the time you will begin waiting for an indefinite period. WTF?

People who own and run restaurants would stop acting like they’re so darn cool and important. It’s just food, okay? And it’s way overpriced. Give me a fuckin’ break with your attitude.

The airlines would quit lying to passengers. If the flight’s going to be an hour late, just say so up front. When you push it back further every fifteen minutes, what you’re mostly doing is creating a trust issue with me. Which I don’t really care to address as I hurtle through the atmosphere at 39,000 feet, if your damn plane does manage to leave.

Everyone in media (especially those on the business side of mast heads) would read the recent New York magazine article on the survival and rebirth of the New York Times. The jist: The Times opted for quality and content over bells and whistles and has thus far survived and even thrived.

People would realize that different doesn’t mean worse….or better, either.

A law would be passed limiting the length of presidential campaigns. At this rate, I’m not sure I can make it to November, 2012. And neither can our country. When politicians are running for office, they are not governing. All they can see is numbers—percentages and dollar signs.

Pundits would interpret the British riots as another massive uprising of Consumerism, the world’s fastest growing new religion, wherein God is what you own and what you wish you owned. The desire to freely pursue consumerism brought down the Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall, made China into the world’s greatest new power. The bugaboo is the have-nots. They watch all the commercials but can’t buy into the lifestyle. It makes people really really angry, looking through the one way glass.

All the soldiers in all the wars across the globe could put down their weapons and go home to their families… on my count… now.

The administrators at my son’s school would adopt e-text books. Do these kids really need to be lugging around thirty pounds of books at a cost of nearly $500 per annum (for used books)? Could we not swing something just a bit more cost effective and twenty-first century?

People would be less fascinated with Tiger Woods and his foibles. The guy is multiracial and plays golf and is rich and is having a rough patch for the first time in his life, okay? Try to contain your glee. Maybe focus on the show by the same name. (In 3 D, yet)

Everyone in the world would have an equal chance to work hard and reap what they sew.

Everyone had to sign their work.

***

And on a more personal note, I wish:

My mommy will find peace surviving my dad.

My son will live a productive and enjoyable life and that we’ll always be close. (And that he is is able to build himself a suitably grade-inflated GPA to allow him into the college of his choice, which is only a stepping stone, but still important.)

My sister will have sun when she arrives in ten days. (She gets a little scary if she can’t tan.)

***

How about you?

What do you wish?

Let me know.

I have a ton of bamboo encroaching on my lot from my neighbor’s property.