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--- BOB OSWALD dreams of long ago times In the Year 2000...

July 1, 2009Last night I dreamed I was at an outdoor dinner party at some swanky Malibu estate, under palm trees and rented canopies, staring out over the darkening water, as Al Gore delivered an interesting, though staid lecture about that thing that Al Gore delivers interesting and staid lectures about.Everything was running along smoothly when an old woman in the first row wearing a designer sundress and a floppy hat raised an old hand and asked an old question… about Florida, 2000.

A hushed silence fell over the crowd.

Too soon?Dream Gore, demonstrating the poise and honesty for which he is famous, did not skip a beat; he immediately transformed into Bill Murray and began to relate the story of that fateful night with all of the tragicomic pathos only the leader of the Ghostbusters (and to those who still cling to the pathetic and misguided notion that the Ghostbusters had no leader: Screw you, no one believes you anyway) could bring.

The entire audience watched, enraptured, as Gore-Murray relayed the tale of that fateful night's bravery, suspense, heartbreak, and downright filthy cheating, until, at the height of this beautifully spun verbal epic, someone shouted: "Hey, Kurt Vonnegut!" We all looked, and through the hedges that delineated the property line, Vonnegut, apparently the host's neighbor, was indeed puttering around in his backyard, taking out his trash.

Vonnegut waved in an appropriately eccentric-curmudgeonly-yet-avuncular way; we applauded.

Murray-Gore's spell was broken.

But when I awoke my sheets were soaked in tears, along with the usual things my sheets are soaked in when I awake.

I'd finally gotten it.

Bush v.

Gore was my generation's (that is, the non-generation jammed uncomfortably in between the Xers and the netkids) "high water mark...

the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back." It was our Waterloo, our Auschwitz (too soon?) our 9/11...

other than the actual 9/11, of course.

To wit: it was the moment we realized colossal, worldbreaking failure was not only possible, but probable—likely, even—and that it was all our fault.

Or all going to be blamed on us, at least.Sooooooo, anyone do anything fun this week? I went to see Irukandji play at the Georgetown Liquor Company.

How about that? These guys are cool.

Think 8-10 piece jazz/funk/trip-hop/jam band, with female vocals, two rappin' emcees, and people trading instruments and coming on and off stage so much its really hard to tell who's in the audience, who's in the band, and who's Bill Murray.

This time, in addition to their usual fare, a little bit of dub and reggae got shaken (not stirred) in, and a disco-funk number got the crowd shakin', and stirred as well.

A brand-new, harder-edged rock piece rounded out the set, complete with with emcee Mr.

Muse providing some growly tough-guy vocals.

His counterpart Prophecy swears that this one was entirely improv'ed.

Quite a show.The Georgetown Liquor Company (or "G-Liq" as the hip hop kids—or, actually, just me—call it) is a decent dive, too.

Kind of a biker bar, but without the bikers, but really, actually, with some bikers.

Near the railroad tracks down by Airport Way.

The 'kandjis ("Irukandji" is the name of the deadliest species of jellyfish in the world, so this abbreviation makes no sense and should never be repeated) have played here before; here's hoping they do again.

Place is dark, serves good drinks at modest prices, and seems to have been hewn entirely of a single mighty mahogany tree felled by, I don't know, some ancient drunken biker viking.Full disclosure: I know Irukandji.

The aforementioned MCs are good buddies of mine, and I once stayed up until 7 a.m.

trying to convince one of the guitarists that Seattle is not a dangerous city.

But seriously, Irukandji brings it, with a bewildering array of styles, and new material every time.

It's been a ride to watch these kids develop their talents and experiment with new sounds—and they weren't half bad to begin with.

Don't let good old Vonnegut's ghost distract ya: check out Irukandji at its upcoming shows.

Because honestly, there is no high water mark; we can keep moving up as long as we're willing to put in earnest effort and creativity, and that's what Irukandji throws out in spades every time they hit the stage.

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